~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rampaging tiger, once gentle girl, spare us our lives!
Reduce us not to blood-spray with your lethal knives!
Lop not
our red
and raw necks
with your wicked and brutal
claws and glinting wry fangs!
You are kindly
and not a bad
monster with a sly
and voracious gut!
Have for
our wet tears
some wee pity!
This we beg, O rakshasa!
Please, remain vegetarian!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Look through the fence, you see that beast there?
That tense lump of muscle and mange-ridden hair?
That's old Scrapyard Spike, and this is his lair;
Don't tread in his yard on adventure nor dare.
Old Scrapyard Spike, he's been a-weathered for years;
In his chain-link domain, rain-soaked despair.
Unfed in the morning, watered only with tears;
Unsheltered from squalls, corroded by glare.
Now poor Scrapyard Spike wasn't always so old,
When he was a puppy, they told him they loved him;
But when he grew up, he had to make friends with the cold,
For with the clink of a fence, he was thrown out on a whim
So Spike spent his days alone with his chain;
He sweltered at noon and slept wet with the rain;
And all those who passed him discounted his pain:
"He's just an old cur" was the daily refrain
And then one cold day, a girl found her way in;
Her flesh on her bones, blood coursing unspilled.
Old Spike smelled her first, his chain went a-slitherin'
And the lost child stood rooted, her every nerve chilled.
The silence of metal, broken plastic and glass,
The beast came a-running, his chain length a ploy;
And jaws opened wide as he lunged for the lass;
But when his head pressed her thigh, he whimpered with joy.
Old Spike raised the call with a manticore's thunder;
A summoning cast with his lungs' every strain.
She petted him gently, whose care she was under,
Though his poor heart convulsed as he looked back at his chain.
The clangor succeeded, a blue-clad protector
Saw the beast at her heel, and he drew as he lept;
An ounce of hot metal found Scrapyard Spike's skull,
And the last thing he heard was his friend as she wept.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Attempted mind trick
My poem isn't trending
Psychology failed
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Deployment confirmed, Flight Leader at ready
Mission parameters locked in the pipe
Target subsystem structures, hold the course steady
The last thing I want is a wipe
Miles of shrapnel, anti-drone hail
My brave flight cut down by a half
Magnetics engaged, we land on her tail
Free at last from hot metal and chaff
There can be no defense for this aft rail dispenser
Plasma torches will have out her heart
A soft spot at last on the tactical sensor
One final call and this party can start
"Flight Leader here, subsystem disabled"
"Prophet tactical, fire at will"
A surge of blue plasma, the deadly beam arc
We andrones must die with our ****
No graves will be dug for this 'drone flight destroyed
Disabling that aft rail smoke-caster
But our sacrifice bought what the Prophet predicted
Elegiac ion disaster
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Joy's sublimity
New Naruto episode
Wide eyes ******
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
Place your finger on her chin
Now draw a line down her throat and extend the trajectory
Why? Because then you get to touch her cleavage
I thought it was self-explanatory
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Get her out of those buckles, make her wiggle
Learned fingers tracing her every silky crease
Manually adventuring amidst her supple folds
Turning her over and over, send the air out of her!
And then an arm across her skirt, fold her lovingly but firmly
Now I can count on her to open next time I jump
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
These poets online
My friends list, you old rascal
You're sure looking fine
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
King of the Sun, O Son of the King
Vessel of Glory poured out for our sins
The great holy houses and mountaintops sing
For what the Omega ends, the Alpha begins
Faith of our hearts, O Heart of our faith
Truest of shepherds Who leads us from straying
Deliver Your children from evil's enticements
And forgive us our sins; stay virtue from fraying
Lord of All Time, O Eternal Lord
Thy hall is a spire no darkness can capture
Thank You for giving Your dear Son to us
And Thy will, O God, may we accomplish in rapture
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
A friend's riddle was most indiscreet
And I finally admitted defeat
How is a bee like a 'B'?
They both sting Koreans, you see
And with that he skipped off down the street
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC