A Poem by Phillip J Clayton

They did not create the monster, that was all my doing;
I pity the unfortunate fool who will meet the wretch one day,
the stink of my hate and anger.

Monotonous filth plague my ears,
years of silence broken...

What was once imprisoned now free to roam my soul,
my mind slowly becoming a sludge wasteland;
The sounds of agony tormented by an endless melancholy.

I no longer see people, humans or precious life;
I see dysfunctional organisms...
trying to claim with their little might what was never theirs!

I see a wealth of diseased-riddled, puss-filled flesh withering away;
The true nature of the beast rises with interaction;
Death hovers impatiently like a true vulture.

A cesspool of w****s...
They speak with great might, how poisonous;
Their words are contagious festering sores;
It's for the greater good they cry!

I see failed abortions, where are you god?

© 2017 Phillip J Clayton

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these words like a bag of rocks ! HEAVY!!
nice writing

Posted 2 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Phillip J Clayton

2 Years Ago

Thank you for your review, much appreciated :).

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1 Review
Added on January 31, 2017
Last Updated on February 7, 2017
Tags: poem, macabre, anger, hate, experimental, monster, writing, downwardspiral, phillipjclayton


Phillip J Clayton
Phillip J Clayton


A visual artist, designer and creative consultant with 15+ years of experience working in the creative industry. As an independent artist, also pursuing a host of personal projects and brands. I wr.. more..


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