Posts Tagged ‘murder’

Death is my lord,
I am his reaper,
And his scythe,
My blade is his,
I am the Manhunter,

This long coat hides a herald of death,
He pays in cold coin,
And I pay in cold dead eyes,
Those whose time has come,
Those whom have his icy hand upon their shoulder,

My life was already taken,
Eons ago,
A bloody wedding gown and an empty crib,
Death made a joke that day,
I couldn’t help but chuckle,

I am the Manhunter,
Nothing personal,
Just business,
The cycle of life,
Even monsters must eat,

Do you feel his gelid breath?

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A continuation of ‘Festival Of Blood‘.

I was a bad man in life,
A nightmare in a mask,
Bringing luscious bloody release to innocents,
Before my festival of gore was cut short by firing squad,
But I’m back,
I claws my way out of hell,

But something followed me,
Something wants to drag me back,
Drag me back with fang and claw,
This infernal dread has a name,
Cerberus,
A real bad doggy,

A mass of muscle and maw,
Dark as the night,
And far more foreboding,
Three canine heads of such freakishness,
A trichotomy of insatiable mouths,
Slavering with the essence of hell-fire,

I am prey now,
A target for this unholy behemoth,
This guard dog of the underworld,
Its eyes seethe with crimson voracity,
It will hunt me for all eternity,
I can only flee,

I was a serial killer,
An apex predator,
But now me and my soul are just panicky prey.

Cerberus

This is the suburbs,
Residential utopia,

Gardens disheveled and unkempt,

Children with blank faces,

Creaky marred front gates,

A young lady who hears all manner of sordid gossip,

A shed kept from prying eyes,

A policeman with lewd secrets of his own,

A community full of cliques,

A weary young man who keeps his basement locked,

A husband and wife who never look at one another,

A girlfriend head-to-toe in Stella Artois contusions,

A widow still in a black veil,

A crowded yellow school-bus never to get home,

Some utopia,
When perused closer,
Even the suburbs aren’t so idyllic.

My candles breathed their last,
I decided to take a walk with the full moon,
A dark shape crossed my path,
An unnerving smirk upon its countenance,
Disconcerting yet darkly welcoming,
Fangs glistening like daggers in the moonlight.

A mad grin,
An infectious grin,
Piercing eyes,
Unblinking eyes,
An obfuscated form,
Even more obscure intentions.

He greeted me warmly,
Every sentence punctuated with a giggle,
He explained his way of life,
To laugh was to live,
All else was misery he said,
Life and death were simply gags.

His laughter spoke to me,
Like friendly advice I could not ignore,
Each cackle was a poem,
Every chuckle a sonnet,
Each chortle was a well-formed argument,
It told me of things wonderful and unseen.

His laughter seduced me,
It revitalized me like a shot of adrenaline,
Like a lifestyle I’d shamefully missed
His guffawing opened a gateway,
An expression of joy in three syllables,
Ha. Ha. Ha.

I almost joined him in his nocturnal comedy,
But then I saw the corpse crumpled behind him,
A bloody beam carved across her face.

His grin vanished…

LaughMan

Should have stopped them,
Should have said something,
Should have stepped in,
Should have broke it up,
Should have told them no,
Should have stopped the blows.

I didn’t,
I stood by.

I didn’t defend her bones,
I didn’t shield her face,
I didn’t uphold her honor,
I didn’t guard her innocence,
I didn’t act as her guardian angel,
I didn’t save her soul.

I just watched,
I stood by.

Bystander

I never saw what killed me.
Never saw what turned me into a specter.
It may have been a bullet to the brain,
Scattering my skull.
It may have been a blade to the gut,
Spilling my insides.
It even may have been a garotte to my throat,
Silencing my breath.

Personal or otherwise,
It doesn’t really matter now,
I’m dead.
Plainly and categorically dead.
I end up in the same place.
The bodybag,
My very own ferry over the Styx.

My very own ferryman too,
A handsome oarsman in a high visibility robe.
Followed by an orchestra of sirens,
And a ultramarine light show.
It’s a dramatic journey.
I bled out hours ago.

The bodybag fulfills its purpose.
It has taken my safely over the Styx.
It has protected me from the burning rapids.
We reach our destination,
Together.
The morgue,
Also known as the underworld.

 

Bodybag

Cannheart

This was an easy meal,
One little swipe of a blade,
She fell like a lead balloon,
Utterly feeble,
Utterly pathetic,
Utterly delectable.
Oh, i have been so hungry since the last one.

Hello, remember me?
Your humanity?

Cannibal they call me.
Viperous monster and pitiable freak.
Man-eater and defiler.
They must be right,
I can’t deny humanity is one hell of a meal.
I’ve never loved anyone who wasn’t to become a morsel.

This one is different…
This one is perfect…

A delicious bloody sauce keeps the meat succulent.
The ribcage splits easily enough,
Revealing that most enticing of meats,
The beating center of my meal,
The epicenter of love,
She hardly needs it anymore.

Yes, she does!
This girl loved someone…
She may have even loved you…

I take my prize in my bloody hands,
Raise it to my face,
It’s still beating rebelliously.
My fangs ready to pounce.
My demonic eyes set on the beautiful beating bounty.
Saliva drooping like vines.

Stop!
What are you doing?!
You loved this girl!

I pause,
Almost against my own will.
I can’t bring myself to feast on this comestible.
What have i done?
What have i been doing?
I knew this heart.
I loved this heart.
No…

You remember now?
Before you became this monster…
You did love her…
She loved you…
She was your cannibal heart.

A continuation of sorts of ‘A bloody legacy‘.

Sirens in a cacophony around me,
Spotlights hunting me,
Police sharks around me,
Chomping at the bit for me.
They can’t have me,
Not here,
This place is part of my legacy,
This bloodbath is sacred,
These corpses are relics,
A holy site.

To my sanctum i must go.
I’ll be safe here from those police-shaped monsters,
Those blasphemous curs,
This sanctum is my chapel,
My playground,
My hideout,
My home.

Previous rituals and games reside here,
Corpses and bloodshed,
Gore and bones,
Intestines and brains,
This glorious scene is my festival of blood,
Another chapter of my bloody legacy.

That one crucified to the wall there?
A famous actress.
The one hung from the rafters with his eyes and tongue missing?
A vile politician.
The one with his head missing and back broken?
A treasonous teacher.
And the one here with an acid-bathed throat?
A simple babysitter.

All stalls in this festival,
Celebrations to my brilliance,
Hymns to a master serial killer.
The media will love this,
Love me,
They’ll spread my splendor,
To further masses.

What?!
A crash?
The police-shaped monsters are coming it seems.
Let them come.
Let them bear witness to my work.
The Festival of Blood is open.

Bloodfest

Ghostclown

Dead clown cries faintly
Even as friends raise a toast
One day they will know

Every night he stares
His friends innocent children
Balloon sculpture blade

Guiltless blood all shed
Lonely ghost has new public
Deathlike crowd applaud

Dead clown seeks more friends
Balloon cutter hunts more broods
All fear the dead clown

Bloodcircus

Drip drip,
Drip goes the blood,
Drip drip,
Drip goes the gore,
Drip drip,
Victim beaten,
Drip drip,
Victim impaired,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux grinning,
Drip drip,
Blades whirring,
Drip drip,
Only audience corpses,
Drip drip,
Battlefield a bloody circus,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux cackling,
Drip drip,
Serving his master,
Drip drip,
Clown advances,
Drip drip,
Victim weeping,
Drip drip,
Blades singing,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux strikes,
Drip drip,
Victim eviscerated,
Drip drip,
Bloody fireworks,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux triumphant,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux gleeful,
Drip drip,
Tournefoux insane.

Tournefoux