Final solution implemented
I often feel the urge to kill
and just as often I resist.
I know for sure one day will.
These insane urges still persist.
I told my doctor how I feel.
He said that I must learn to deal
When such urges bother me
that they are only fantasy.
Just yesterday I nearly killed.
My life dream almost fulfilled
But some last shred of decency.
Intervened and prevented me.
The lady was so beautiful
her swan like neck so round and full
Oh Lord the woman tempted me.
I could have killed her easily.
The only way to satisfy
my urge to kill: Someone must die,
make fantasy reality.
the one solution I can see
from which I can no longer hide.
My last resort is suicide.
No one else should have to die
My killing urge to satisfy.
I will depart with dignity
and not all reluctantly.
I’ll overdose, die quietly.
My problems solved permanently.
17/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pure Rationalisation for Friend Thad
A fly has been annoying me.
Persistently and constantly.
My conscience bids me not to kill.
But damn it all I think I will.
That fly will bother me no more.
I killed with a single blow.
I had endured it patiently.
At least an hour maybe more
It pestered me insistently
I had to even up the score
That fly will bother me no more.
I slew that fly intentionally.
It left me with no other course.
Perhaps in time I’ll feel remorse.
Though at the moment I feel pleased
That wretched fly is now deceased.
That fly will bother me no more
though I’m afraid my conscience will.
Sometimes we sin because we choose
although we know we should refuse
and listen to our inner voice.
That bloody fly gave me no choice.
That fly will bother me no more
I killed it quite deliberately.
I know I sinned and must atone
The fly would not leave me alone.
The fly not I caused the offence.
I think my argument makes sense.
The fly will bother me no more
Its death was more than justified.
21/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To relieve the urge is the urge.
You feel relieved
when the urge to eat is met.
You feel relieved
When the urge to drink is met.
The same relief you get,
When the urge to purge out
And the urge to pee are met.
Releasing the urge is the pleasure.
24.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Choice story poem
My cause was just I could fulfil
a life long dream, an urge to kill.
An urge I knew I must resist
by application of my will.
Circumstances alter cases.
I planned my action on this basis.
All paedophiles deserve to die
Just disappear and leave no traces.
My chosen victim was beast.
Who masqueraded as a priest
and preyed upon young choirboys
He’s missing now presumed deceased.
I groomed my victim carefully.
Confessed that I had frequently
had unclean thoughts about small boys.
The priest absolved me readily.
In me he thought he’d found a friend.
A man on whom he could depend
to keep a still tongue in his head.
His own perversions to defend.
But he was wrong in his belief.
He was remarkably naïf
He thought his cloth protected him.
A fact that brought me much relief.
I told him that I belonged to
a private club know to but few.
Men who shared our interest.
When next I went he could come too..
The trap was set now I would
wait for him to nibble at the bait
I knew that he could not resist
He was hardened deviate.
It was arranged that we should go.
Quite separately so none would know.
He thought it best to be discreet
and I agreed it should be so.
We reached the chosen rendevous.
He was surprised we were but two
and even more surprised to find
just what it was I meant to do.
I did not hesitate or pause
I took his life without remorse.
An old pit shaft his resting place
where none will look for him of course.
The priest would simply disappear
for reasons which will be quite clear.
When his perversions come to light
He was afraid to linger here.
His sins recorded faithfully
in grim detail on his P.C,
Another scandal for the church
will come to light for all to see
For many reasons he would leave
they would quite easily believe.
That he just lost his nerve and fled.
When from his P.C they retrieve.
The photographic evidence.
Undoubtedly it will incense
The men who must investigate
his sudden disappearance.
Their first thought will be suicide
because he has no place to hide
Their search will be desultory
They won’t treat it as homicide.
By killing him I’ve satisfied
The life long dream I’ve had to hide.
The beast has paid the penalty.
I think his death was justified.
It could be that this tale is true
So I will leave it up to you
my gentle reader to decide
You can believe what you want to.
8-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frustrated Ambition.
Frustrated ambition.
I can remember vividly
The first person that I chose to kill.
Although selected randomly.
It somehow made me feel fulfilled.
No longer a non entity.
Overlooked by everyone.
It proved my capability
To make my name and be someone.
I thought about it constantly.
I knew that I must kill again
I felt a growing certainty
my only thought was to regain.
The rush of the adrenaline
The sense of power which it brought.
As if the whole wide world was mine.
That was the feeling which I sought.
Though when my second victim died
My pleasure was not so intense
and I was left unsatisfied
Which did not seem to make much sense.
When I killed victim number three
There was no rushed adrenaline.
Which only served to convince me
That killing had become routine.
I had not yet achieved my aim.
Although killing had lost its thrill.
The only way I would gain fame
Was by continuing to kill.
I will defy the threatened rain
To add another to my score
Tonight I mean to kill again
and claim my victim number four.
Though others have killed many more
To earn their place in history.
I aim to beat the highest score.
I’m sure I will eventually.
Because I’ve only just begun
I study the case histories.
Familiar with everyone
I find that this inspires me.
To choose my victims carefully
and not at random as before
and change my M.O frequently
Whilst I am racking up my score.
Six years have passed my final score
I don’t believe can be surpassed.
by anyone who’s gone before.
Perhaps the time has come at last
For me to claim the fame that’s due.
Because I have successfully
Achieved what I set out to do.
By confessing publically.
The best laid plans can go awry.
The powers that be were satisfied
My story was a fantasy.
And so they had me certified.
No access to publicity
I never got the chance to boast.
Perhaps a fitting penalty
Organised by a vengeful ghost.
They keep me safely locked away
With no access to the outside.
Though I am certain that one day
All my claims will be verified.
Some one will find my record book
Containing records of my kills.
But when I tell them where to look
They do not listen: no one will.
Tuesday,13 December 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Learning New Skills: something a little different
I smell the rancid stench of fear.
Although you sense that I am near.
You give no credibility
to anything which you can’t see.
You don’t believe in ghosts as such
And yet you’re conscious of my touch.
But you refuse to listen to
the inner voice that’s telling you
There are some things you can’t explain.
Some hidden aspect of your brain.
Which knows a great deal more than you
are prepared to believe is true.
You are aware your terrified
of something but you can’t decide.
If it is fact or fantasy.
Should you fight or should you flee.
I can’t do what I used to do.
All I can do is frighten you
I cannot harm you physically.
That pleasure is forbidden me.
I feed upon the scent of fear
To satisfy my appetite.
Before I died I used to kill
And if I could I would still kill.
But I cannot I’m just a ghost
one of the great unnumbered host.
Who have to pay the penalty
for who and what they used to be.
A never ending punishment
For those who can’t or won’t repent.
As long as I can frighten you
I will continue making do.
A lesser thrill I must confess
But it feeds me none the less.
The taste of terror exquisite
It titillates my appetite
for cruelty. I am still proud to be
operating sadistically.
Inflicting mental cruelty.
A student of psychology.
Although you sense that I am near
You cannot understand your fear.
There’s very little you can do.
I am more powerful than you.
Though disembodied I exist
as tenuous as morning mist.
And while I do your fears persist.
You need to find an exorcist.
30/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Urge To Merge
Written by Pam Reswick, Steve Werfel
Though I think I really know you
And you think you know me
And we're as close at two people
Could ever hope to be
Still I can't escape the feeling
That no matter what I do
I'll never understand what it feels like to be you
I get the urge to know you better
To make our spirits one
I want to see us be together
As close as we can come
I get the urge to merge
I get the urge to merge with you
I get the urge to merge
I get the urge to merge with you
Have you ever wanted something
You just had to possess
And it turned into obsession
And wouldn't let you rest
There are times I can't help wishing
I could melt right into you
Hear every word you're thinking
Feel everything you do
I feel trapped inside my body
And there's nothing I can do
Want to leap across the wall
That's keeping me from you
To break what can't be broken
To say what can't be spoken
If only for a moment
To touch your soul
I get the urge to know you better
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Validation for colin j
Sometimes I think we should not try
to make our cherished dreams come true
and be content with fantasy.
We must accept reality
Some cherished dreams are doomed to fail.
Because they are not meant to be.
That does not mean we should not dream
For dreams are a necessity
Though they’re not always as they seem
Dreams can protect our sanity
provide escape from every day
repetitive reality.
Dreams can become reality
Though only if they’re meant to be.
31/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Whatshisname
An actor always plays a part.
He has no personality.
It is the essence of his art
an actor’s capability
To become anyone at all.
Whoever they’re supposed to be
at least until the curtains fall
Revert to being nobody.
Their whole life is a fantasy.
They don’t know who they really are.
They can cope with reality
but only so much: Insofar
as I can see, because they can
act like any other man.
12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Legendary Upas Tree for friend Chandra
The legendary Upas Tree
As I drew near the Upas tree
I felt a sudden lethargy.
I was devoid of energy
The Upas tree had captured me.
To satisfy its appetite.
With promises of sheer delight
it undermined my will to fight.
I must resist with all my might.
I will succeed in breaking free
and then destroy the Upas tree.
Then I discover suddenly
I am inside the Upas tree.
This is no dream or fantasy.
Alas it’s grim reality.
My struggles were to no avail
The tree must win I had to fail.
If you should find a Upas tree
avoid it very carefully.
Few men caught by this strange tree
ever succeed in breaking free.
One man lived to tell his story
How he escaped eventually.
But no one believed that there could be.
A sentient man eating tree.
I was a fool and paid no heed
To tell the truth I saw no need
and that is how I came to feed.
The Upas tree’s unholy greed.
20/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Obstacles are challenges
The road I choose the path I take.
No different from the road I spurn
But what if I choose by mistake
a path from which I can’t return.
Sometimes our footsteps we retrace
when thorns and briars bar our way.
To try again another day.
Why should we fear a loss of face?
There’s nothing lost by the delay.
We merely bow to circumstance.
We’re wise enough to recognise
it is a hopeless enterprise
.In time we’ll get another chance.
In winter when the brushwood dies.
We will return to satisfy
our burning curiosity.
Explore these byways thoroughly.
On foot and with the naked eye.
No need to act too hastily.
For what we seek we do not know.
An urge which cannot be defined
springs from our deep subconscious mind.
We are compelled we have to go.
Complete the task we self assigned.
20/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dreamscape reality for Friend Thad
Some think Sci Fi is fantasy
which could become reality.
For it has proved so in the past
technology develops fast.
The far fetched tales of yesterday
are merely common place today.
Maybe in the next century
then men will travel easily.
To places we imagine now
although I cannot forecast how.
But until then we settle for
the time to dream and dream some more
of worlds we think that we create.
Who knows what wonder still await
what other treasures we may find
When we choose to leave behind
the world we know and simply go
into a heightened mental state
In which we can appreciate
That things aren’t always as they seem.
So just relax my friends and dream.
No matter how improbable.
Or how silly it may seem
Believing makes it possible.
17-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Voluntary Genocide?
The shrill wind whistles through at will.
The remnants of venetian blinds.
The rooms inside are tainted still
with viruses of different kinds
All tailor made which were designed
To only kill selectively
The product of a mad mans mind.
A plan which backfired tragically.
He was convinced he had the right
to alter mankind’s destiny
That everyone who was not white
should be destroyed efficiently.
His master plan was to erase
all non white populations.
And thus provide more living space
for go ahead Caucasians.
Now he is dead with all the rest
of mankind both black and white
Perhaps it worked out for the best.
There are no humans left to fight.
The whole world is free from wars
The only killing is for meat
and that by natures predators.
Who have no choice they have to eat.
The human race which killed for sport
Has had its day and left the stage
It failed to satisfy the court.
Maturity would come with age.
12/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fuzzy Logic.
Between the worlds the boundary.
Sometimes grows thin and disappear.
Fantasy and reality
Which is which no longer clear.
Imagination can supply
Alternative scenarios
Where normal rules do not apply
But are they real? nobody knows
It may well be that it is so
I can accept a different view
I do not really want to know
whether or not that it is true
I can believe quite easily
there is no definite boundary.
Sunday,17 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Such luxury is not for me. for friend Thad
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
I do not know but feel I should.
Such luxury is not for me
I am contented with my lot.
I make no effort to impress
I have sufficient for my needs.
It matters not that I have less
than those who feel they must succeed
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
I see no reason to display
I much prefer my privacy.
I live my life in my own way
Accepting life’s reality
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
Though I indulge in fantasy
from time to time like everyone
I know it’s not reality
only a dream that’s quickly gone.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
I earn my living honestly
although I’m just an artisan
Better to live quietly
as befits a simple man.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
Something I’ve never understood.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
Tuesday,10 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Foregone Conclusion. For M'selle Perrault
My muse like any woman will
use her feminine wiles and skill
To persuade me to her view
and will persist until I do
Exactly as she wants me to.
I’m well aware that she will win.
Should I surrender just give in?
I must defend my self respect
it is the least she will expect
So I protest to no effect.
When my muse makes up her mind.
Like any poet I will find.
I have no choice but to obey
and there is nothing I can say.
She will reject each argument.
That I can muster and present
Although it’s futile to resist.
My fragile ego will insist
I have no option but persist
to register my discontent.
Though this does not deter my muse.
She knows full well I can’t refuse.
She knows from my past history.
I will submit reluctantly
She always wins eventually
She knows I must put on a show
to satisfy my male ego.
She is prepared to wait until
I do obey her sovereign will.
She makes that clearly evident.
I cannot win I’m bound to lose
When I argue with my muse.
She’s confident she will prevail.
After all I’m only a male
Somewhat naïve and innocent.
She knows I am a gentleman
that’s why she’s certain that she can.
Persuade coerce or bully me
Until give in and agree.
My muse will brook no argument.
Sunday,24 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Country Lied
I lack the urge but have the skill.
My country taught me how to kill.
I had no choice could not refuse
nobody asked me for my views.
They said my country needed
to subjugate the enemy.
I was still young, green and naïve.
That I was sure I should believe
that what they told me must be true.
That it was something I should do.
But I discovered in due course
we were fighting to enforce
on those with just cause for dissent.
A very unjust settlement,
the promises my country made
and did not keep. We now forbade
their self determination.
The right of every nation,
it was battle we must lose.
The people have the right to choose.
To be an independent state
no longer seen as second rate.
Which they achieved eventually
they were not just a colony.
On looking back it seems to me
my country lied apparently.
An abuse of authority
I will not forget easily.
I lack the urge but have the skill.
My country taught me how to kill.
Though I can say with confidence
I’d only kill in self defence.
23-Jun-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The intrinsic decorative urge should not be eradicated. It is one of humankind's deep-rooted, primordial urges. Primitive people decorated their implements and cult objects with a desire to beautify and enhance; it is a sense emanating from the urge for perfection and creative accomplishment.
quote by Sophie Taeuber-Arp
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Open invitation for M 'lady Lucianne
Just loose your hold and come with me.
Explore the worlds of fantasy,
strange places only dreamers see
There is no charge it is quite free.
Decide where you would like to be
and we will travel rapidly.
Borne on the wings of poetry.
There is nothing for you to fear
reality won’t disappear.
You can’t escape so easily.
29-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Opposing skills.
A brilliant man a polymath
but nonetheless a psychopath
Who thought he had the right to kill.
His reign of terror just begun
He killed his victims just for fun.
To exercise his sovereign will.
He terrorised the city streets
with his all too frequent repeats.
He seemed to need the added thrill.
Of being caught quite possibly.
and so he was eventually.
Or he would have been killing still.
He saw his hobby as an art.
Something that would set him apart.
And he was right it did until
he chose a victim to attack
A victim who could fight back.
a lady who possessed great skill
She was a martial arts expert
Though she intended him great hurt
She made quite certain not to kill.
He spends his life in a wheel chair
Complaining that is was unfair.
He had a quota to fulfil.
Although he is strictly confined
in a cell specially designed
Definitely not run of the mill.
To hold this twisted genius
aware that he’s still dangerous.
His one ambition is to kill.
The heroine that broke his back.
He lives and relives that attack
I have no doubt he always will.
I don’t think he has realised
the fact that he is paralysed
He cannot walk and never will.
Poetic justice some might say
to keep him safely locked away.
Who calls the tune must pay the bill.
Tuesday,08 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time to be,
Steal away quietly meditate
You can spare time enough. For a while
silently hide away. Contemplate
who you are, what you are thoroughly.
You may find peace of mind, leave behind
the pressures and distress easily.
All you need to succeed is concede.
You can fly if you try earnestly.
You will see, you can be really free.
12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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