Posted November 22nd, 2013 by Jason N
This is some poetry I wrote in English class… Jonathan Doe is not a real person (apologies to anyone really called Jonathan Doe). All of these are fictional and do not portray any real events or people.
The following poems were intended to be humorous.
I am watching you right now
May death come to you
Jonathan had found
He could no longer take life
So I ended his
Jonathan lay dead
On the carpet of his room
I left quietly
Jonathan Doe was walking down the street.
I know this because I was watching him.
Using an axe, I turn him into meat.
I sell the meat on the Pacific Rim
For twenty-five dollars a kilogram.
His meat sells well and I am soon fresh out.
I find a new source of meat on the tram.
This target will taste sweet, I have no doubt.
Although not as thrilling as Jonathan
Doe, it will make a worthy replacement.
Ending a life, I do this quite often
As in my last life, I was an agent,
But this is my life now, I have no choice.
I drive off hastily in my Rolls-Royce.
Pick up an axe, aim for his neck
Pick up his head, put it in in a bag
Pick up the limbs, remove them one by one
Make sure no one sees me
Take the head and remove the brain
Take the limbs and remove the tissue
Take the tissue and store it away
I might need a snack for later
Clean up the crime scene.
Two stanza alternative rhyme
Death comes easily to Jonathan Doe.
The knife went deep and an artery burst.
He’d grabbed a knife and aimed down low.
This pain he knew well, but this was the worst.
As he collapsed on the floor and lost all consciousness,
He remembered what he had learnt about life and rhyme,
That things always change and that was obvious.
He lay with a smile ‘til the end of time.
I hate all living things
I hate to see them thrive
I hate making sure I don’t hurt them
It makes my blood boil inside…
I hate all things not living
I hate to see them exist
I hate making sure I don’t break them
Things are not made to last…
Sleep is quite important, it helps you to recharge
But Jonathan was unable to do so in the past.
This is because he was not able to see
The light of day, as he was with me.
I kept him in a basement,
Made sure he couldn’t move.
I told him he was dying.
I must show him no mercy.
I grabbed his arm and chopped it off
With a dull saw blade it took nineteen strokes.
Once I had started, the blood trickled down
And I reminded him he could not make a sound.