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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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I have decided: Finally.
My family donated me to mother church, a priest to be.
Because no one consulted me, I had no chance to disagree.
So in due course I was ordained and found I’d lost more than I gained
The church had educated me. I’d won a double first degree
My parents did what they thought best they acted in my interest.
There was no way I could protest. Though I must say I’m not impressed with the way that things were done and recently I have begun.
To realise resentfully my future was mapped out for me.
I am expected to repress the normal feelings I possess.
A problem which all priests address. I am a man no more no less.
I am quite certain that I would not have chosen the priesthood.
I have decided that I should quit the priesthood and for good
The practice of celibacy seems quite unnatural to me.
I am convinced a priest should be free to have a family.
The church has made a grave mistake expecting every priest to take
A vow which causes so much heart ache. I must resign: Make a clean break.
To earn my living honestly in some profession where I’m free
To wed and raise a family. Celibacy is not for me.
Monday,26 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Faith the Facts
Search out all things of good report.
Consider each one carefully,
things are not always as you thought.
As you will find most probably.
What you were taught to be the truth
is very often far from true.
Lessons taught you in your youth
by those you thought knew more than you.
As you mature you learn to see.
They taught you their own biased view
Which you examine critically
And then discard most as untrue.
Your old beliefs grow obsolete.
Examine all the evidence
New facts emerge though incomplete,
you then accept what makes most sense.
What you were taught no longer true.
You can’t rely on faith alone.
Although the clergy urge you to
Because too much remains unknown
Wednesday,25 November 2009
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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 Mystery Remains story poem
By my lanthorn dimly burning.
I have trouble in discerning
the faint words scrawled upon the page
By the hand of a long dead sage.
What I study is forbidden
a secret I must keep hidden.
I dare not study it by day
and that is why I hide away.
In the dark hours of the night.
I study by a lanthorns light.
Lest the priesthood should suspect.
For they would kill me to protect
from what they see as wizardry
although it’s only chemistry.
The shaveling priests of Mother Church
have full authority to search.
As and when and where they choose
.a power open to abuse
And they abuse it readily
in their search for men like me.
Men who defy authority,
pursue their studies secretly.
The church pretends to safeguard souls
but aims to keep in place controls.
Which keep the people ignorant
so that they will accept the cant.
The falsehoods and hypocrisy
of the priests more easily.
The common man must never know.
Because the church will have it so.
That education is the key
to knowledge which will set them free.
From religious domination.
To me a foul abomination.
The Holy Book from which they preach
written in a language will do not teach
To any but the favoured few
Who think the same way that they do.
Which will maintain the Status Quo
beneath the piety they show.
I am convinced that in due course
The population will enforce
the will of the majority
And strip them of authority.
Award all men the liberty
to study what they want to openly.
I know too well if I am caught
my labours will have been for naught
Though I must study secretly
I hide my records carefully.
Perhaps one day someone will find
the writings which I leave behind.
I was betrayed so I must die
but I will die with head held high.
Accused of practising magic
they’ll burn me as a heretic.
The papers I hid secretly
lie waiting for discovery.
By some scholar of a future time
When learning is not seen as crime.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.
I found this manuscript by chance
and thought it worth a second glance.
My hobby is church history.
I can’t resist a mystery.
Although the parchment was fragile
and written in an archaic style.
Some parts of it I could translate
sufficient to appreciate..
This document deserved to be
translated more efficiently.
By someone who could understand
old manuscripts written by hand.
So I enlisted expert aid.
A scholar of the highest grade
from Oxford university
to solve the mystery for me.
It caught the scholar’s interest
and easily passed every test.
To prove it was no forgery.
Which was of little help to me.
Although the scholar could translate
there was no way that he could state.
The dead authors identity
which must remain a mystery.
A fact which disappointed me.
Alhough I gladly paid his fee.
I would much rather that I knew
who we could ascribe it to.
I must accept we’ll never know
who wrote these word so long ago.
Because he failed to sign his name.
He is denied his well earned fame.
His careful notes on alchemy
though hidden from his enemy.
Have formed the basis of research
which can’t be repressed by the church.
As it was in the distant past
before the people over cast
the dead hand of the Holy See
and achieved their liberty
15/04/2009
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15/04/2009
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ain't No Nice Guy
When I was young I was the nicest guy I knew
I thought I was the chosen one
But time went by and I found out a thing or two
My shine wore off as time wore on
I thought that I was living out the perfect life
But in the lonely hours when the truth begins to bite
I though about the times when I turned my back and stalled
I ain't no nice guy after all
When I was young I was the only game in town
I thought I had it down for sure
But time went by and I was lost in what I'd found
The reasons blurred the way unsure
I thought that I was living life the only way
But as I saw that life was more than day to day
I turned around, I read the writing on the wall
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
In all the years you spent between your birth and death
You know there's lots of times when you should have saved your breath
It comes as quite a shock when your trip leads to a wall
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
Hey Slasher?
When I was young I was the nicest guy I knew
I thought I was the chosen one
But time went by and I found out a thing or two
My shine wore off as time wore on
I thought that I was living out the perfect life
But in the lonely hours when the moons the only light
I thought about the times when I turned my back and
stalled
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who is responsible a rant may offend some
The paedophile a parish priest
Whose outward trappings hid a beast.
Perverted lust that raged below
the saintly face he chose to show.
He preyed upon the innocent
his vile desires warped and bent.
A loathsome smiling predator
who thought he was above the law
He disregarded celibacy
in favour of depravity.
I do not know why this should be
it happens all too frequently.
Then when his sins are brought to light
the church assists him in his flight
to sanctuary in the Vatican
and they protect this evil man
from punishment he well deserves
Offensive to the God he serves.
But it seems not to the papacy
who view his sins more tolerantly.
20-Jun-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Bedtime Story
Bedtime story.
An unfrocked priest concelebrates.
The ritual of the black mass.
Breathless the congregation wait.
To witness what may come to pass.
A naked prostitute serves
as altar for this blasphemy.
The priest will get what he deserves
without a doubt eventually.
A human skull holds foul incense
black candles burn on either side.
The atmosphere is growing tense.
As acolytes each in their turn
Intone their pleas to Lucifer
To grace them with his presence here
Their half afraid he will appear
And half afraid that he will not.
A stench of brimstone fills the air
The room is fast becoming hot.
It is almost too much to bear
Outside a roll of thunder peals
and lightning streaks across the sky.
Inside a crimson glow appears
Lord Lucifer enthroned on high
The congregation terrified.
Bow low to show him their respect
Their expectations satisfied.
Dramatically to great effect.
Some came fro curiosity
And some because of true belief
in his Satanic Majesty
Who holds the whole world as his fief.
Is it just a well staged show?
I am convinced that it must be.
But truthfully I do not know.
It seems to me most probably.
That someone stands to benefit
considerably financially.
Although I am quite sure of it.
I must admit reluctantly.
I have no proof to assist you
to draw your own conclusions.
As to whether it could be true
I’ll stick with my opinion.
It is a scam intended to
Prey on the gullibility
of fools with little else to do
but take part in tomfoolery.
I may be wrong quite possibly
and that Lucifer did appear.
Although I don’t think he would be
So very quick to disappear
and leave his worshippers bereft.
It was stage managed cleverly.
The lights grew dim before he left.
You can’t believe all that you see.
My tale is told it’s up to you.
You have to make up your own mind.
I cannot make it up for you.
This is the choice I leave behind.
01/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Last Man for friend J.T.Early
I am alone, last of my race
The reign of man is nearly done
I wonder who will take our place.
I am the last and only one.
WE had our chance but failed the test.
Our foolish pride ensured we would
Because we thought that we knew best
instead of living as we should.
We chose instead belligerence
and Might is Right became our creed.
Despite the mounting evidence
that we wrong we paid no heed.
We flouted Mother Nature’s rules
Took much more than our rightful share
A race of self destructive fools
for others rights we did not care.
It had to come it was bound to.
She’d reached the end of her patience
and knew exactly what to do.
So she unleashed a pestilence.
Against which man had no defence.
The doctors failed although they tried
they simply lacked the competence.
Each passing day more people died.
I am alone last of my race
and I too soon must leave the stage.
I wonder who will take our place
to usher in a brand new age.
23-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Misplaced Trust
Symmetrical verse
Misplaced trust
.
I lost my way
Was led astray
By those I thought I could believe
But were not what they seemed to be
Because I was young and naïve
I trusted them too easily
Their confidence was all pretence.
I should have used my common sense.
Gone my own way
Without delay.
But I did not I thought they knew
Which way to go
which wasn’t true.
Saturday,29 October 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Prophecy for M lady Lucianne
The moon is blue to suit my mood. I’m missing you I knew I would.
My love for you is deep and true but there is little I can do.
I cannot make you want to stay. So I will send you on your way.
I’ll paste a smile upon my face and hope that it will stay in place
until you disappear from view. You have a dream you must pursue.
Whilst I must wait and hope and pray, you will return to me one day.
Perhaps in time you’ll come to know there was no need for you to go.
When you have slaked your wanderlust and found nobody you can trust.
Maybe your thoughts will turn to me; I’ll still be waiting patiently.
I am quite certain you will come back to where you’re always welcome.
By then my love you’re sure to know. I loved enough to let you go.
What had the world to offer you? No one could love you like I do
Now you are home you will remain I will not let you go again.
You had your dream and I had mine. Your dream is dead you must share mine.
Together we’ll find happiness I know we will it’s not a guess.
27-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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No remorse story poem
No remorse
Beneath the waves my lover lies.
They search for her without success.
I see suspicion in their eyes
They do not know but some still guess
I loved her well and faithfully.
I thought she was the perfect wife.
Behind my back she betrayed me.
I had the right to take her life.
Or would have had long years ago
The price of infidelity
was to be slain and justly so.
Though today’s laws do not agree.
I could not kill her openly.
Though she had earned the punishment.
I had to plan it carefully
and see no reason to repent.
My conscience does not bother me.
I still sleep peacefully at nights.
She feeds the fish beneath the sea.
I wish them hearty appetites.
I have no doubt that in due course
the tides will wash her bones ashore.
I do believe I had just cause.
She won’t betray me any more
D.N.A may identify
to whom the naked bones belong
but never how she came to die
Nor will they prove that it was wrong.
It could have been an accident.
Or a guilt induced suicide.
The only thing that I resent
That I had no choice but to hide
The punishment she well deserved.
Instead of acting openly
I think that justice has been served.
Though no one knows the truth but me.
My lover lies beneath the waves
I visit her quite frequently
as other people visit graves
I walk the shore beside the sea.
22-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Last Leaf
That she was old beyond belief
was obvious for all to see.
Her face was like a wrinkled leaf
The last one clinging to the tree
in defiance of the gales.
Which autumns sends to strip the trees.
But now and then this method fails
and one leaf refuses to release
its hold and stubbornly remains
attached to where it’s always been.
Where once it drank the summer rains
when it was tender young and green.
How old she is she cannot say
nor does she care apparently.
But like the last leaf in her way
intends to cling on stubbornly.
She has outlived her family
all of her friends have long since gone
Accepting philosophically
She is the last surviving one
That when she dies her family tree
will disappear and leave no trace.
It will just simply cease to be
there is no one to take her place.
She is a source of wonderment
to scientists who study her.
She does not care she is content
to accept the support they offer her.
Shes not too old to change her ways
no longer has to search for food.
Which she done for all her days
and she still finds that life is good.
There is no record of her birth
her age is subject of debate.
Which is to her a source of mirth
a joke she can appreciate.
She does not care so why should they.
It does not matter in her eyes
She has survived until today
and will do ' til the day she dies.
The scientist all theorise
on how and why she’s lived so long.
They disagree as each one tries
to prove he’s right the others wrong.
She has her own opinion
but they show little interest.
And will not 'til the chance is gone.
When she has died and gone to rest.
She lived her life in her own way
It was the only way she knew.
Aware that she would die one day
as everybody has to do.
How old she was nobody knew
It does not matter I suppose.
That she was old we know is true
but why she was nobody knows.
11-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Can't Decide. Story Poem
Oil lamps burn on either side
Of a polished stone centrepiece.
Its only purpose is to guide
The task performed by the high priest
The celebrant is crimson clad.
He speaks a language long since dead.
The strangest dream I ever had
Which filled me with a sense of dread.
I knew I dreamed but it seemed real
I tried to wake to no avail.
Held in a trance as strong as steel
My puny efforts doomed to fail.
It was as if against my will
I was transported to the past
By some magician with the skill
The bonds of time to overcast.
I could tear my eyes away
Beneath the altar though unbound
The sacrificial victim lay
Willing to die: His faith profound.
His death would bring fertility
Ensure the future of his clan
So they could thrive successfully.
Thanks to the courage of this man
The priest despatched him with one stroke
The young man died without a sound
The priest turned to the crowd and spoke.
The words he uttered echoed round.
Although I could not understand
a single word.Somehow I knew
That he obeyed his Gods command
As he was duty bound to do.
Then I awoke quite suddenly
The sacrifice had set me free.
But was it fact or fantasy
I cannot say positively.
Perhaps some racial memory
embedded in the D.N.A
My forebears had passed down to me
Had been triggered in some way.
That vivid dream still bothers me
It is a dream I shan’t forget
I choose to call it fantasy
But I have doubts that linger yet.
Alternative reality
Or just a dream about the past
It could be neither possibly.
But I was glad when it had passed
I think about it frequently.
But find that I cannot decide
If it was fact or fantasy.
It seems my doubts will long abide.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misplaced Trust symmetrical verse.
Symmetrical verse
Misplaced trust
.
I lost my way
Was led astray
By those I thought I could believe
But were not what they seemed to be
Because I was young and naïve
I trusted them too easily
Their confidence was all pretence.
I should have used my common sense.
Gone my own way
Without delay.
But I did not I thought they knew
Which way to go which wasn’t true.
They lied to me
As liars do.
Saturday,29 October 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Chronicles Of A Day Stranded In Nature Part 5 Resist Even Out Here
Resist... resist with all my strength
Sometimes i find it hard to resist
I find myself thinking thoughts not be thought
It seems that to not think in this way makes my mind twist
This battle has been fought
Many times before
Yet the thoughts that are there to abhor
Not to surrender to... they're pleasurable O
As i grind my toes inside my shoe
And steady my jaw I resist the urge
And thoughts of the other... I wish to purge
These thoughts of any candidate for my wife
The one with which i spend my life
I must resist even when I rest
And I cannot let my guard down even after a hard test
They plague and pervade my mind
Though I like these thoughts... I still must find
Some peace from them, because for me they
Often are evil... how fey
Resist...resist... with all my mind
poem by David Knox
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Fair Exchange? for M'Lady Ernestine
A man alone is incomplete.
He needs a helpmeet by his side
a fact from which you cannot hide.
He may be self sufficient
but I am sure that nature meant.
He needs a mate to be content.
Man was not meant to live alone.
Though he can cook and clean and bake
he needs a mate make no mistake.
A bachelor but not for long.
Some pretty maid will come along
and prove to him that he is wrong.
She will convince him easily.
She can fulfil all of his needs
the oldest tale of all succeeds.
He takes the bait with open eyes
and then he finds to his surprise.
That she not he has won the prize.
He may look back with some regret.
In fact it is quite normal to,
but things have changed as they must do.
A married man you are constrained
your roving eye must be restrained.
But you’ve lost less than you have gained.
Though bachelors may be quite free
to come and go just as they please
without responsibility.
No longer foot loose fancy free
you will adapt quite easily.
Swap freedom for security.
10-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Karma
To sleep, perchance to dream and wake no more
I know I have to stay but long to go
and leave behind me all my cares and woe
Back to where I have often been before.
A place of rest in which I can restore
my weary spirit easily I know.
In soft green meadows where the waters flow
and work out what the future holds in store.
I must return I’ve lesson yet to learn
I am sure that death is not the end
but just another step along the way
Towards perfection for which I yearn.
Each wrongful action which I can’t defend
I know that I must suffer in my turn.
31-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Forgive me father I have sinned For FriendDenis Joe
Forgive me father I have sinned.
He was a hidden enemy who took delight in thwarting me.
I don’t know how I gave offence, his friendliness was pretence.
He constantly destroyed my dreams by underhanded evil schemes.
When I discovered all he’d done, I said nothing to anyone.
Then I destroyed my enemy. I planned his murder carefully
Paid great attention to detail and formed a plan that could not fail.
He had to pay the penalty in such a way that I went free.
His death must seem an accident, nobody knew of my intent.
My conscience doesn’t bother me because I killed my enemy.
His hatred of me made him blind to the snare I had designed.
He thought that when he turned the key, the lift would fall down crushing me
But I had rewired the lock and he received a fatal shock.
I think that I was justified in planning how and where he died.
He was intent on harming me instead of which died instantly.
I acted in my own defence. His spite and his malevolence
Have made a murderer of me but I can still sleep peacefully.
I confessed my sin openly; my parish priest has absolved me.
He bid me go and sin no more. He need have no doubt on that score.
The deed which I was driven to, I won’t repeat and that is true.
My secret enemy is dead. It might have been me in his stead.
27-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misapprehension
A blue eyed blonde but rather dim.
Or so he thought
But she still made a fool of him.
Just for the sport
He thought he would have his way
then leave her flat
but she saw things a different way.
I fancy that
she led him a merry dance.
She knew his game,
right from the start he had no chance.
But all the same
The lesson was long overdue
he had to know.
That he was not entitled to
just take and go.
She had met men like him before
and knew full well
He wanted to add to his score
so he could tell.
His friends about his new conquest.
But she declined
and told him he was just a pest.
Then she consigned
him swiftly to the garbage heap
where he belonged
and she would lose no beauty sleep.
Though he felt wronged.
Philanderers should make a note
to change their ways.
or surely they will miss the boat.
Alone always.
the maiden knew instinctively
she could not trust.
She spotted you immediately.
So go you must.
With your desire unsatisfied.
The lady’s wise
she sees quite clearly that you lied.
To your surprise.
23-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!