Archive for the ‘Dark Poetry’ Category

Deaf Ears

Posted: December 20, 2017 in Angry Poetry, Dark Poetry, Hurt Poetry
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Deaf Ears

Nothing that I say will hurt you
Nothing will haunt you in here
And I’m trying as to hurt you as you’ve been hurting me
But you have your apathy which rules over your feelings
And your denial, and you “get out of jail free” card
And the friends who are hypocrites and suck it up to you
How can someone have so much power?
But every empire fall to its feet
Every empire eventually turns to dust
I’m the one to tell you that you’re wrong
While everyone else has been too afraid to
You have too much self-centeredness
I’m the one to pull you down to level the inequality
You feel too proud for the things you do
Like anyone owes you anything
Your lack of self-consciousness
You don’t think about the consequences of your actions
And you deny the aftermath you’ve caused in the lives of others
As if you’re not at fault here
As if you’re not to blame
You’ve been put on a pedestal by wealthy people
And those in need don’t ever deserve your pity
But you’re looking down on them
As if saying “they got there because they didn’t try as hard me”
When you have been given everything on a silver plate
Except for the essential
That’s why you’ll never find out where you come from
You’re half a person
Tearing everything in half
Your heart is putrid
And your love is tainted
You cannot relate
Cause you feel confortable
You feel in the position to say or do whatever
You think that the womb of your procreator is your place in your bigoted empire
You think you come from monarchy
But you have no respect for the respectable, the poor, the needy and the humble
Cause inside your black heart you’re like your ancestors
Selfishly proud of thinking your untouchable
But for me you have become nothing but scum, the worst kind
Let this fall on your deaf ears
‘Cause you only have hearing for those who come to praise you
But for me, you’re insignificant as long as you hold onto your self-delusion of greatness.



Posted: December 10, 2017 in Angry Poetry, Dark Poetry, Hate Poetry
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Fuck you and fuck your kind
Always looking to manipulate and play the victim
Fuck you and fuck every one of you
Always seeking for pity and play the good person.

Fuck you
This is why I’ll never respect you
You live in such a fantasy
Moving all the pieces in your favor.

Fuck you
The day will come that nobody will believe you
Oh, yes, it will come
And I’ll be laughing from my hell’s prison cell.

New poem by ‘Ryan Lyandree’

Fated For Catastrophe

The king is at its castle
Another dumb puppet chosen by dynasty
Let’s crown this asshole
Let’s embrace our own empirical hypocrisy.

Here comes his majesty
The trumpets announce his entrance here
In with the “new” ministry
The surface of this place is flat in this sphere.

And so it’s time to choose sides
It’s time to stay closed, or open out wide
For larva are accumulating in our mouths
What about the dear old worms when everything goes south?

The lord is at its temple
Praise the pagan figures built by mortal men
Darkness is that simple
It enters though the gaping holes of human sin.

And so it’s time to choose gods
It’s time to stay close, or to let go
For dust has been gathering in our hearts
What about the dear agony that comes along with the scars?

And so it’s time to push open that third eye
‘Cause how obvious can it be to read between the lines?
It’s time to swallow the truth and savor the lies
How oblivious can we be about a balance that declines?

Choose now to live or to die
Choose now to give up or to stay alive
For our king has spewed “off with their heads”
And I think he’s speaking about the living rather than the dead.

The Math
(Written on June 5, 2016)

So the sky fell into the dark days
So the road turned into a swerve way
And the mirage of the divine
Turned your beverage back from wine.

Such a perfect picture of disenchantment
When the wolves hide within the sheep
And though now you’re blinded by this excitement
Pray to God this doesn’t drag you in too deep.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

So it was written a long time ago
But we were encouraged to believe so
When the devil talks like a Deity
We tend to turn our faith into absurdity.

Such a deceptive way to be captured
When our wounds become compulsion
And though then we waited on for the rapture
We decided that this was true absolution.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

I’ve heard the voice of the devil
And he sings like the sweetest thing
I’ve seen the deep roots of evil
And they look like the most heavenly beings.

So when the waters rise soon to drown
We still will never learn the line needed to be drawn
For the greatest fear’s being taken for granted
But we again ignored it for the sake of feeling wanted.

33rd (AAIGA) (Part 1)
(Written on September 10, 2016)

The number of days that took for the resurrection
Is cloned twice in your degree and scribed on your ring
And by the time they wake up for the insurrection
You’ve signed on our foreheads and owned everything.

The number of the fiend is of that of this humanity
The faux minister certainly won’t preach about God
They feed on the chaos caused by continuous calamity
Cause the fallouts of the afterlife’s one thing they forgot.

This is a mate ceremony presented to the Great Architect
Offering progenies to be swallowed by the likes of Moloch
Cause the real symbols here are all about the mathematics
It was a bet made back when the spiritual battle was unlocked.

So when the alchemists disguised themselves as scientists
That’s when the witchcraft became the mother of cunning
The slithering being curled on a cane, denoting the evident
The obelisks erected must’ve given us the signs of a warning.

(Written on May 20, 2016)

My demon is laying here
Singing lullabies about my fears
Gently pushing my head down
Simply waiting for me to drown.

But this wasn’t part of the deal
My dreams were supposed to become real
And here you have me begging again for support
But you’re chocking me with your umbilical cord.

Oh, Lucifer, the superstition in my head
Why can’t I be part of your master plan?
Oh, Baal Zebu, the lord of façade
Why do you keep crushing me in the palm of your hands?

Cause I keep turning to you once more rejected
Cause you know I’m just a junkie and I’m addicted
And if my blood is worthless for you, then give it back!
You’ll return me to my life and we’ll break up the pact.

Décollation et Ax
(Written on June 1, 2016)

Here you have come
To return me where I belong
To the fire and brim
And the odium that streams
As it was written before
For the sanction and lore
To the divine infinity
And any other impossibility.

Here we are now
We’ve survived this somehow
To the steel and the stone
The ridge of the flesh and the bone
As it was once foretold
For the stick in the mud of the mold
To the one opposable
And any other one immutable.

Saviors and angels
Any kind of Theo-co-existence
To any other angle
Anything that comes as persistent;
Necromancers of the past
Gather up to raise your glass
Obstructing all that resurfaces
Obscuring all that’s polymorphous.