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The Good Pussy May 2015
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                                 Beast
                            Beast Beast
                          Beast Beast Be
                         Beast Beast Bea
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                             Beast Beast
                      Beast                Beast
                  Beast Beast      Beast Beast
             Beast Beast Be  ast Beast Beast
                Beast Beast        Beast Beast
                     Beast                 Beast
SelinaSharday Apr 2018
The beast loving the beast he didnt have
sympathy for beauty and the way that beauty should be treated.
Beauty she didnt have the ******* nature of
reality that means the way a beast should be. Beauty and her Beast
The tender love and affection that beauty needed.
Was often ignore rejected and neglected.
from the beast.
The same way, that beauty wasnt able to
saddle the ******* meaness
and the rocky foundation.
That the beast was used to. To accept him being what he is.
Unloving uncaring ungiving.
because he is better known as this beast.
Beauty and her Beast.
Beauty would often be torn ravished and taken for granted.
While the beast would often feast on the tender meat.
Of Beauty! Ravishing and seeking, beastly taking.
Barely ever having anything descent to be giving.
No kindness no loving ways, no maturity.
Because the beast didnt even love himself.
This beast he be!
Sometimes as beauty would be recovering
she'd reach for him in his rocky
******* places and it would leave her torn.
In tragedy torn ripped places because Beauty.
Needs peace beauty needs sweet relief.
That couldnt be provided.
By a ravishing Beast.
Beasty and her beast.
The way he seeks,, the way he treats the way he harms.
The way he rings alarms.
Beauty would sigh love me! The Beast would say Hate me.
Hate me I am Beast!
My Features are beast My ways are Beast.
My Heart is beasty. For I remember am Beast.
Beauty would cry Love me, desire me, want me,
Cherish Me, feed me nourish me.
comfort me, cradle me.
For I am beauty and I seek love and maturity.
I am Beauty. Do Not Devour me.
But nourish me and treat me kindly  
And Know that I am beauty.
I seek sweet sleep sweet deliverance
For I am Beautiful I need not  a Beast!
Don't be beasty let me transform you into my Prince charming
my romantic knight and shinning armor.
can I kiss the beast and he turn into my romantic beast.

By SelinaSharday.. All Rights reseved S.A.M 2018
LOVE UNMATCHED.
hear it on soundcloud
https://soundcloud.com/selinaros3y/beautyher-beast-poem-1
Red-Writing-Hood Jun 2013
Written by Cocoa & RedWritingHood

Both: For who could ever learn to love a beast?

Beauty: I have and will and would again. They were a wolf in sheep's clothing, learning to love was never the issue. With my heart on my sleeve, I merely lend it to others and like a used tissue they toss it back to me without the slightest pang of guilt in their chest. But that's okay...I've become accustomed to your mood swings because learning to love was never the problem, but breaking the bond - forgetting the unforgettable - imagining impossible depths of hell without you was almost...

Beast: INFURIATING! Love me, you said. Love me and I will not break, you lied. You were a porcelain doll just waiting to smash to the floor. You knew my hands would shake, you must have. You asked me to press them into, you promised you would - not - break. But you did. One swing and you shattered. Two swings, and you came back for more by three my hands were cut and bruised and still, you asked me to love you, as if I, could not break

Beauty: Into a million pieces like the mirror you smashed the night you told me I ruined your life. And I let your words hit me blow after excruciating blow, acting as your punching bag and why? Because the only thing more painful than loving a beast who breaks you down rose petal after rose petal...is learning to let them go

Beast: It felt more like you were reeling me back in. Every time I tore a petal off I knew what I was doing. I wanted to leave you. I wanted to love you the only way I knew how. How do you walk away from the one who pleads they are only more broken when you aren't there to put the pieces back together?

Beauty: So fix me
Beast: Break you
Beauty: Fix me like you always do
Beast: Old puzzles tend to lose their pieces
Beauty: You lost them
Beast: I know
Beauty: You, lost, them. You're losing me.
Beast: I'M SORRY
Beauty: SORRY?
Beast: There's nothing I can do...

Beauty: You did everything, you broke me down and sold me for parts, love a beast? I adored you with every fibre of my being you were my oxygen, I never asked you to breathe just to take me in and you took me for granted, took my innocence, took my sanity and smashed it like it was

Beast: Nothing. I'm so sorry. I'm begging you, stop. There's still beauty that lies within.

Beauty: I guess that's the piece you lost. You're a beast.

Beast: For who could ever learn to love

Beauty: A beast
lust is a hash of eyes
lust is a hash of a beast
2 eyes is a hash of the beast
2 eyes is a hash of lust
2 eyes is a hash of eyes
2 eyes is a hash of beauty
2 eyes is the beauty of the beast

beauty is the ironing of the beast
beauty is the ironing of the eyes
beauty is a ironing lust
lust is a ironing lust
lust is a ironing beauty
lust is a ironing beast
the beast is the ironing of the beast

2 eyes of the beast is 2 eyes of a ironing beast
2 eyes of the beast is 2 eyes of a ironing beauty
2 eyes of the beast is 2 eyes of a ironing lust
2 eyes of the beast is 2 eyes of a hash beauty
beauty is a hash of beauty
beauty is a hash of the beast
beauty is a hash of lust
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc… this poem is about the distant is the distant between beauty and the beast. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
I’ll not take your time, beyond what the need,
To relate to you a story and deed
As there’s no one else to plea this decree …
For just I survived, don’t you see.

I’m an old man, with a mind full of mist
But details of that night in my mind still exist
As vivid and clear, both sharp and exact
No, no mist there – all of it’s fact!

When I was young, and adventure routine,
With excitement and newness still unforeseen
I was eager to spread my wings to the world
And seek more adventures as those wings unfurled

Within my long travels I happened to meet
Two other men, with friendships replete
One was named Beckett, the other one Flynn
And better friends there never have been.

Beckett was tall – an athletic type
While Flynn, the scholar, more of pinstripe
Pinstripe or athlete – it mattered not
It was our essence together and that which it wrought.

Engaged were we in all daring do
High on the mountains, and under seas, too,
We crossed dry deserts, and jungles of green
And other adventures there in between.

We’d been together, t’was our sixth year,
And still our adventures made us cohere
To every madness – to every rave …
Until we decided to enter The Cave.

We discussed the encounter and planning for weeks
And assembled equipment – some new, some antiques
Until at last the day it arrived …
And our excitement?  It still there survived.

The map we used, was bought from a guide
Who told my friend, Flynn: “Don’t go inside”
When he had learned of our journey’s intent:
To enter The Cave, and begin our descent.

The guides’ words, had given us pause
We had thought: What was his reason or cause?
But … dismissed were his words of advice
We had each other … and that would suffice.

With ropes and lantern-hats and other such gear
It was into The Cave we then disappeared.
The light from our lanterns speared into the dark
We spoke very little - made no remark.

Onward, downward, in blackness we went
Placing out markers for our later ascent
The sounds of our footsteps, and scraping of walls
Reverberated ‘round us – as echoed recalls

In about six hours, or maybe ‘twas more
We encountered water upon The Cave floor
And there all around were beautiful shapes
Never were seen such gorgeous landscapes

Stalactites, stalagmites and mineral mounds
And dripping water with its’ “plopping” sounds
Pinks, violets and shades of green hues
And small salamanders made their debuts

We found a small dry spot and then we assessed
This was a place we could stop now to rest.
I turned up my lantern, and took off my hat,
When Beckett said: “Hey.  Did you just hear that?”

I moved not a muscle, and my ears went to strain.
All I could hear were the droplets, like rain.
Then from The Cave’s bowels came a loud din
I continued to listen – then heard it again.

We looked at each other, but said not a word
Confused and startled by what we’d just heard
It wasn’t a moan, it wasn’t a gasp
But more rather like a guttural rasp

One thing was certain, it wasn’t of stone
That could create sounds while standing alone
T’was our discussion, from which to derive:
The source of the sound was something … alive.

Then from The Cave’s deepened black hole
Came again sounds from a source with no soul
The sound was menacing, and one I despise,
I watched the fear grow within my friends’ eyes.

Instinctively, we three then moved as one
In that instant – our re-ascent had begun
I had been last in the line coming down
Now I’d be the first to reach the “above-ground”.

Quickly my feet in the lead, lead the way
Flynn, right behind had nothing to say
My friend Beckett, brought up the rear
And in that position had the greatest to fear

The lamp on my hat pierced through the black
And I looked for our markers to lead us back
To save our strength, nothing was said
Again - the loud sound that filled me with dread.

The sound became louder and closer it be
And I moved faster through the black before me
I could hear Flynn’s breathing, so close behind
I tried to concentrate on the markers to find

Somewhere behind me, then snarls I heard
Loud and vicious, run together and blurred
Close … so close … the beast was so near
Adrenalin rushed through me to react to my fear

T’was then I was hit with an overpowering stench
The smell caused my stomach to turn and to wrench
The odor blew past me, and I knew t’was the breath
Of the Beast of The Cave – its’ oder of death.

I was near running, but down on all fours
Sweat was streaming from all of my pores.
Then I heard those terrible screams
The ones I keep hearing in all of my dreams

It was Beckett I knew in his shocked agony
Midst the snarled snapping of jaws I can’t see
I heard bones cracking and squishing of flesh
And the fear within me gave new strength afresh

My fingers were raw from grabbing the rock
But on moving forward my mind had its’ lock
My stomach still queasy from the stench of the beast
I knew it was finishing its’ beastly feast

I knew, too, t’was only a matter of time
When the beast would return - I had to climb!
I heard Flynn say: “IT’S COMING AGAIN!”
Again was a surge of my fear deep within.

I heard once more the beast from behind
And fought the panic taking over my mind
Something heavy struck against The Cave’s walls
The kind of sounds that ghastly appalls:

A scraping of talons of heavy clawed feet
Caused my heart to double its’ beat
I had the feeling that Flynn lagged behind
I screamed my urgings loud and maligned:

“Flynn!  Flynn!  Catch up to me!”
But took not the time to look back and see
For the beasts’ crashing against The Cave’s face
Told me it neared – and was re-gaining the race

My knee hit a rock, and my balance was lost!
I fell to the ground, and then feared the cost
In losing the time in scrambling free
Again sheer panic stabbed into me.

In less than an instant, Flynn was there too,
His face in my light was of a strange hue
And as he helped me get back to my feet …
Flynn turned around – t’was The Beast there to meet.

The stench overwhelming, but the sight was much worse
There standing before us: The beastly curse
Of overlapping scales in shades of dark gray
The rest of its’ body concealed in umbrae

But its’ eyes … its’ eyes … I’ll never forget
Rheumatoid yellow, and deeply inset
Its’ reptilian lids blinked just one time
‘Fore its’ lips peeled back - revealing the slime

Glistening yellow over dagger-like teeth
Then oozed from its’ mouth to fall there beneath.
The beast reared up, then we saw its’ claws
Sharp and deadly within its’ forepaws

Towering above us, no sound the beast made
On beams of our light had his gaze stayed.
Unexpectedly Flynn then turned and faced me
… With less blinding light, the beast could again see

Why Flynn had turned I never will know
For the beast bit him in two, at his torso
And I was looking at Flynn – direct in his face
When the beasts’ bite his life did erase.

I screamed, and instantly away did I run
Away from the beast, and dead companion
Through the price of Flynn’s life, more time had been bought
To reach The Cave’s entrance – the goal that I sought

Running wildly, several times did I fall
Toppling did not my mission forestall
The beast I knew still somewhere behind
Drove me on forward with my frantic mind

I heard its’ clawed talons scraping the wall
And prayed I’d not again stumble and fall
Then, up ahead, a small opening I viewed
And I saw my chance, with hope there exude

Twelve feet … six feet … then it was three
But the beast and its’ stench was there behind me
I dove through the rock opening, scraping my head
But better that injury than ending up dead

I was elated, and about to rejoice
I then heard a scream – it was my own voice!
In my leg erupted intense blinding pain
Looking down I saw the bloodstain

My leg, through the opening, still was stuck out
There was but split-seconds, before I’d lose it no doubt
I pulled my leg back, and in but a flash
My shoe was removed by a clawed talon slash

I crawled back from the opening, then I could see
My wound was deep, from ankle to knee
Then suddenly through the opening came
A clawed talon whose aim was to maim

I quickly withdrew out of its’ reach
As claws shot through the openings’ breech
The opening too small, for continued rampage
And the beast began then to voice its’ outrage

It’s deafening roars assaulted my ears
Echoed Cave chambers and in my mind did adhere
I began attending unto my grave wound
Knowing I now was no longer marooned.

T’was another hour ‘fore I crawled out The Cave
But many days ‘fore I’d shed the shockwave
Of what had transpired, and what I had seen
And my damaged leg was lost to gangrene.

Now sleep evades me, for my horrible dreams
Show beams of light, and unearthly screams
Of Beckett and Flynn and The Cave we were in
I know tonight, I’ll re-live it again.

So, now you’ve the story, you’ve heard the deed
I swear is the truth I’ve herein decreed
And Beckett and Flynn are enslaved in their grave
And I lost my leg to the Beast of The Cave.
there’s a great terror in the universe
there’s a beast in the great terror of the universe
a beast is a beauty of a great terror
a beast is a beauty of a great terror in the universe
beauty is the beast,beauty is the great terror,beauty is the universe
beauty is the beast of a great terror
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of a great terror

the eyes of the beast is beauty of the beast
the eyes of the beast is the eyes of the beholder
the eyes of the beast is the beholder of the beast
the eyes is the beholder of a beast
the eyes is the beholder of a great terror
beholder is beholder of a beast
beholder is beholder of a great terror

beauty is the beholder of the universe
beauty is the beholder of a great terror
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the universe
beauty is beauty in the eyes of the beholder
beauty is beauty in the eyes of a great terror
the beholder of a beast is the beholder of a great terror
the beholder is the eyes of the beast
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about there's a beast in the great terror of the universe. i don't add capitalization's on my writing.

— The End —