Posts Tagged ‘Serial killer’

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?

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

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

skullsnake

I stand here surrounded by all these corpses.
Caked in blood,
Loving crimson blood.
I knew these people,
Loved all of them.
I knew her with the slit throat.
I knew him with his skull caved in.
I knew the two with their heads missing.
I knew that one with a broken neck,
And this one here with a bullet hole in his face.
Family and friends.

I killed them to be remembered.
They’ll report about me.
Plaster me all over the news,
My very own bloody soapbox.
They’ll hate me,
They’ll love me.
Spread my legend.
Serial killer they’ll call me.

This bloodbath is my magnum opus.
My blades singing were my masterstrokes.
My claws around their throats were my crowning achievement.
My gunfire was my chef d’oeuvre.
The bloodstains are my masterpieces.
This is what I was born for.
This massacre is my bloody legacy.