Travis McCullers
Travis McCullers
Dec 8, 2011

Vlad the Impaler ate human flesh in a room choked with corpses
Whilst Ivan the Terrible liked to cook them up in frying pans
And in much the same way—I am in thrall to your tastes
To be devoured by your sycophantic lusts
To savor every kneading second
Til I am licked off of your fingers.

part eaten it was laced with her saliva
Pradip Chattopadhyay
Pradip Chattopadhyay
Apr 3      Apr 3

At one corner of the subconscious
she waits to land on my dream

this morn too she came

offering my hungry mouth
a piece of guava
part eaten it was laced with her saliva

stoked my lust from the first bite
she never ages a bit
wished she came to me on each night
bringing youth endlessly sweet!

Hayley Neininger
Hayley Neininger
Mar 18, 2013

How smart we were to eat pieces of one another
To keep small portions of each other
Hidden cleverly inside us
The little bits of you secretly tickling
The inside of my stomach
They don’t feel like butterflies
More like birds of prey
Dancing with angels
Their wings brushing up against me
When the joy of their movements
Allow them to forget themselves
And spread their wings full.

I need to stop writing about movies.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
Queen Poetess B
May 5, 2010

I am a half eaten sandwich,
Good enough to sustain you, but with only a part of myself.

I am a half eaten sandwich in America,
like the country, you too are wasteful.

I am a half eaten sandwich,
the likes of which are too large for you to consume.

I am a half eaten sandwich,
that has grown cold as it is forgotten.

I am a half eaten sandwich,
but someone, somewhere, would eat me.

I am a half eaten sandwich,
your belly so full of yourself.

I am a half eaten sandwich,
that will nourish the one that is starving--

For  I am not to be wasted.

Queen Poetess B  © Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved
in moth-eaten coats.
Apr 5, 2013

we are all drop-dead wire hanger children
who still cling to mama’s skirt when she tells us to go free
because we have lost the wings that kept us grounded;
on gray skies and blue-black, bruised blood we flew
before the flood came down and washed away the meat
leaving only metal skeletons of our universal selves, our
heartbeats pressed inside paper envelopes, stored away
in moth-eaten coats.

Krista Marie Mac
Krista Marie Mac
Feb 10, 2013

an insecure first
a demon
a whore
a fire
a straight girl
a bird
an enigma

Austin Sessoms
Apr 27, 2012

silence in the skies
plumage floats in little tufts
great cat stalks away

I dreamt I was eaten by a large dog beast,
David Bird
David Bird
May 11, 2010

Last night I had an unusual dream,
But not the type that would make you scream.

I dreamt I was eaten by a large dog beast,
It must have thought me part of a feast.

From inside its mouth I had a friend on my shoulder
He was clever and helpful, and I felt bolder.

He told me to avoid the sphincter muscles,
Should I wish to emerge with minimum tussles.

Instruction said that the safest way through
Was to be forced out while inside a pooh.

After kicking my way out of the crusty turd,
I woke up and thought that was bloody absurd.

*This must be in my top 5 weirdest dreams of all time!*
while others insist they have never eaten an orange - juice shooting - sticky fin
Jan 4, 2013

Some people think aliens from another planet have been here, right here on earth,

possibly webbed of foot
sticky talons,
sharp lizard skin,
six gills
revolutionary eyes?

landed in a field of sleeping cows,
somewhere -

then again some people
say they have have never been on a bus

while others insist they have never eaten an orange - juice shooting - sticky fingers

And I just don't know who to believe.

And I have gutted myself with my words
Because revelations create vacuums
And being in love doesn't suit me
Because I let myself down too often
And my words tend to seize up in my mouth
Because they know how awful they are
And I can't bear to stick around anymore
Because shells break far too easily

And my overwhelming urge to say hello
Stops me from trying to block them out
And I can't seem to leave things where they are
Because the grass might be greener, or at least better watered
And its hard enough keeping myself away from it
Without wanting to find a way back inside
And I always hurt myself more than anyone
So quarantine never works out

To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment