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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Related quotes
Screw Faces
[Bob Marley]
Whoa, now!
Screwface know-a who fi frighten!
Screwface know-a who fi frighten!
Like I told, they say, "Coward, man".
Gonna keep some bones
And all violent man gonna weep and moan.
He that exalted him say, "Yeah!"
Shall be obeyed.
Remember Jah - Jah children deh!
Don't dread no pain.
Fear do we go now
To the rivers of ungodly waters, we'll fear no foe
(fear no foe, fear no foe).
Wherever I go,
Not even the pestilence
That crawl at I'n'I
Can't do - wo-wo-wo - me no wrong (just can't do me no wrong).
Oh, now!
I tell you what red is!
I tell you what I know:
(Screwface know-a who fi frighten!)
Screwface know-a who fi frighten!
Screwface know-a who fi frighten! Wo, now!
(Screwface know-a who fi frighten!) Screwface will frighten
screwface!
(Screwface know-a who fi frighten!) Long time gone, y'all!
(Screwface know-a who fi frighten!) Screwface will frighten
screwface!
Wo, yeah! Now!
(Screwface know-a who fi frighten!)
---
/Intrumental ending/ /fadeout/
---
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Tonight could be the last you see!
.
The night is not my enemy.When darkness falls it sets me free.
Thanks to my night adapted eyes.I take my victims by surprise.
Young healthy girls preferably, each one is chosen carefully
It is their choice to walk alone before I claim for my own
I drain their blood efficiently ‘til I have fed sufficiently
Although I know there’s sure to be a hue and cry to search for me
By the time that they are found I will have safely gone to ground
To where my coffin waits for me. I sleep peacefully
Until the sun sets in the west then I resume my nightly quest.
I stalk the city stealthily and find fresh victims easily.
Although the old legends persist they don’t believe vampires exist.
Until the night they catch my eye.Then they believe before they die.
I have to kill to satisfy the burning thirst I can’t deny
I do not slay for cruelty.I need their blood to sustain me
I am as I was meant to be. The predator you do not see
until the night you meet your fate. You may not have too long to wait
It could be you I choose tonight to satisfy my appetite.
If you are wise you’ll stay indoor, safe from night prowling predators.
I don’t suppose you’ll pay much heed. Humans are a stubborn breed
Sunday,07 March 2010.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What is fear?
Fear is stormy weather
Fear is light as a feather
Fear is rain
Fear is pain
Fear is hiding in the dark
Fear is lingering at the park
Fear is not your friend
Fear is hard to comprehend
Fear is not knowing what to do
Fear is what ever he wants to
Fear is turning out the lights
Fear is having no sight
Fear is going to give you a thrill
Fear is also going to make you kill
Fear is never fun
Fear is going to make you run
Fear is that scary little voice
Fear is going to give you no other choice
Fear is losing someone
Fear is like a loaded gun
Fear is something you can't control
Fear is something you can't unfold
Fear is the opposite of love
Fear is what we're made of
Fear is not going to please
Fear is always me...
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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Fear is...
Fear is stormy weather
Fear is light as a feather
Fear is rain
Fear is pain
Fear is hiding in the dark
Fear is lingering at the park
Fear is not your friend
Fear is hard to comprehend
Fear is not knowing what to do
Fear is what ever he wants to
Fear is turning out the lights
Fear is having no sight
Fear is going to give you a thrill
Fear is also going to make you kill
Fear is never fun
Fear is going to make you run
Fear is that scary little voice
Fear is going to give you no other choice
Fear is losing someone
Fear is like a loaded gun
Fear is something you can't control
Fear is something you can't unfold
Fear is the opposite of love
Fear is what we're made of
Fear is not going to plea
Fear is always me...
poem by Nolan Holland
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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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Double Standards,
Does God exist: Omnipotent?
If he does, why did man invent
another powerful entity?
To take responsibility,
For all the evils which men do.
Which seems to me to contradict
omnipotence which can’t be true.
If he’s unable to predict.
How his creatures will behave.
Although in fact they have free will
Our own desires can enslave
us. Searching for forbidden thrills.
Is there a Satan or a God?
Belief in both is rather odd.
05/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It might come back into fashion
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It might come back into fashion for all long suffering husbands
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Naani for Subarraman N.V.
War will persist
as long as men exist.
Men have the will and skill to kill.
They always had and always will.
Peace apparently
an impossibility.
Men expect hostility
Universally.
Why should this be?
It seems to me
we were meant to live peacefully.
In perfect amity.
6-May-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
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The lesser of two evils.
Do gooders have done their best.
To end effective punishment.
Although their ideas fail the test.
Let criminals do as they please.
They’re well aware they’ll get away
with almost any kind of crime.
In the lawless world of today.
In my opinion it’s past time.
To reintroduce discipline.
The birch, the cat and yes the rope.
Society must redefine
soft options which cannot cope.
With those that choose to break the law
To other peoples detriment.
The only way is to restore
a healthy fear of punishment.
The general public would agree
to bring back corporal punishment.
Including the Death Penalty.
But can’t convince the government.
Who fear adverse publicity
and lack the moral fibre to
protect all of society.
Instead of favouring the few.
Who batten on the rest of us
Because the Government daren’t act.
Their arguments are spurious.
I see this as established fact.
Perhaps mine is a biased view.
I could be wrong I must confess.
The question which I put to you.
Do you agree: Say no or yes.
Saturday,11 September 2010http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sense And Sensitivity
I try to keep an open mind
for things that cannot be defined.
Foreknowledge and telepathy,
anything extra sensory.
Clairvoyance and clairaudience,
which seem to use a different sense
from the five which we all use
It seems we aren’t allowed to choose
Levels of sensitivity.
are distributed randomly.
Although we try we can’t deny
that some unwritten rules apply
That these wild talents do exist
That’s why belief will long exist.
We can’t present proof positive.
All the evidence we can give
is anecdotal at the best
and fails all scientific test
Administered by tight closed minds
absorbed in prejudice which blinds
to any possibility.
Which they can’t touch or taste or see.
Although I do not understand
I cannot dismiss out of hand
Abilities which some possess.
but are reluctant to express.
Because they do not want to be
Subject to foolish mockery
You are convinced it can’t be true
and you refuse to listen to
any opposing argument
Your mind tight closed you are content
to live your life in ignorance
. Ascribing everything to chance
A choice you are entitled to
if you prefer a blinkered view.
Because some things can’t be defined
I much prefer an open mind.
I can accept quite easily
not every body will agree.
There’s so much that we do not know
about the human mind.Although
it seems to be illogical
I think nothing’s impossible.
08/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Demystified for M' lady Cate
The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.
The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn
the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.
The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.
It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.
The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear
When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.
The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.
The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.
1-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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So far, So good
Although I’m far from innocent
I have done things I now repent.
In self defence I must protest
I am no worse than all the rest
Whose sins have yet to come to light.
They still profess their innocence
Their sins well hidden out of sight
and yet feel free to take offence.
At peccadilloes I confess.
Which seems to me hypocrisy
as if somehow their sins are less
than those I confess openly.
Because they’re sure nobody knows.
Its human nature I suppose.
09/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I have returned.
I have returned to carry out,
the task I had to leave undone.
You will soon that Jacks about.
I’m Jack the Rippers great grandson.
I was reborn to continue
my campaign started long ago.
Although you can’t believe it’s true.
That show how little that you know.
I’ll rid the streets of prostitutes
who try to lead good men astray
Reducing them to lustful beasts.
These women are my lawful prey.
To prove that I am really Jack.
I will leave my usual clue
at the site of each attack.
In the same way I used to do.
I’ll take some little souvenir
to add to my collection
A kidney or perhaps an ear
As I did in days long gone.
I will select them carefully
The women who I’ve come to kill.
I know police will hunt for me
which adds a little to the thrill.
I slew my first victim today.
In Whitechapel would you believe.
You can rely that what I say
is no more than I can achieve.
There is no doubt that fear will reign
amongst the ladies of the night
As I renew my old campaign.
I am still Jack I strike at night.
I am not just some copy cat
who seeks to emulate my deeds
You can be very sure of that.
This is a warning all should heed.
My name is Jack and I am back.
Despite modern technology
I will be just as hard to track.
If Lady Luck still favours me.
18/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fantasy or Fact? for friend C.P Sharma
I am not dead nor do I live.
I hover somewhere in between
No explanation I can give
will prove to be sufficient to.
Describe exactly how I feel.
I long to stay but want to go.
To who or what do I appeal?
I am confused I do not know.
When I return to consciousness
and find I am myself again.
Gone is the sense of timelessness.
I am content and free from pain.
I knew deaths door was open wide
but knew my family needed me.
I did not choose to step inside.
It could have been a fantasy.
I’m sure some few will understand
but only those who have been there.
Most will dismiss it out of hand.
Though not because they do not care.
They simply cannot comprehend
they lack the sensitivity.
To know that death can be a friend
who is prepared to set you free.
But in the end the choice is yours.
It is your life you must decide
which would be the better course.
To just give up or to abide.
I don’t remember which I chose
but obviously I am still here.
I must have chosen I suppose.
But on that point I am not clear.
I can remember vividly
The doctors crowding round my bed
Whilst I was floating happily
and watching from above their heads..
Fantasy or reality
I do not know but I am sure
That it has wrought a change in me
that’s permanent and will endure.
No longer will I fear to die.
I know that death is not the end.
I am quite sure but know not why.
My enemy is now my friend.
I know that death will set me free
When my time comes then I will go
Released from my earthly body.
Towards a future I can’t know.
22/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Divine protection?
Although we try, we can’t define the attributes of the divine
So most of us choose to accept what we are told; someone’s concept.
Is God a he? Is god a she, perhaps both simultaneously
Did God create the universe? Is curiosity our curse?
Is it right that we should fear god? I find this idea rather odd
It does not seem appropriate to live in fear the normal state.
Maybe God is a neutral source of power we can tap into
Though we are free to choose our course. Responsible for what we do
I do not know what I believe and I refuse to speculate
There’s nothing guessing will achieve I will not learn if I but wait.
Perchance we are collectively all tiny parts of one great whole
And will attain divinity, when we rejoin the over soul.
A theory you may reject and many will I must expect
alhough I say in its defence you must weigh up the evidence.
Consider what you have been taught, cast doubt on its validity
It may not be as you had thought, an absolute, a certainty.
The truth is that nobody knows. Because we aren’t intended to.
If we were wise we’d recognise some things are hidden from our eyes.
Because we could not comprehend the nature of divinity.
To suffering humanity God must remain a mystery.
17/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gramercy
Why should I live in agony?
my life a total misery.
Because you find you can’t agree.
to help me die with dignity.
Who gave you the right to choose?
whether to allow or to refuse.
To end a life of little use
I think it is gross abuse.
of your assumed authority.
To decide what is best for me,
you will not listen to my plea.
I choose death voluntarily.
I am no use to anyone.
I’m well aware my race is run
and I am anxious to be gone.
The choice is mine and mine alone.
And therefore should be left to me
But in your wisdom you decide.
I must live on in agony
You won’t assist my suicide.
01/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changing perspective for bro Colin
A patchwork quilt of sunlit fields
Is visible as grey mist yields
to the majesty of the sun.
The morning mist and night shadows
are well aware that they must go
Now that a new day has begun.
The distant hills which I now see
Become for me reality
Now that the mists have fully gone.
No longer just a fantasy,
a half forgotten memory.
I wandered happily alone.
I did not lack for company
I had my book of poetry.
What more could any poet need
except a quiet spot to read.
31/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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