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Didda Oct 6
don't be afraid to bare your teeth
and snarl aloud
for weve evolved from instinct
and once you embrace it
you are more human than us all
in our world, we aren't allowed to fight back. attacking by instinct, it's ok sometimes.
Fọlá Oct 6
In the stables, or in the wild.
In the winter, or in the summertime.
In the shadow of the sunshine,
In the darkness of the cold night.

Free;
The Stallion must ride.
Free;
The Stallion must ride. . .
Joe Morrison Sep 24
My gorgeous cow, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way your frightened and weak,
Invading my mind night and day through the night,
Always dreaming about the quiet sheikh.

Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more aloft, profound and intense.
Sad frost nips the robins of December,
And wintertime has the incidental expense.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate yours ****** attitude, legs and eyes.
Thinking of for you is the baleful reprise.

Now I must away with a pensive heart,
Remember my rammed words whilst we’re apart
My sweetheart is a man's man heiress
Her man must be a carbon copy of Jupiter, her father,
An alpha, a beta, a kappa, an omega male altogether
A carpenter by trade,
The epitome of masculinity
Who could solve any math problem in a second
And knew how to fix everything
A car, electric, plumbing
A family hero, a handy man
Who built houses from the ground up
He could swaddle a baby's nightmare properly
Open doors to the winds of sadness
And pull chairs to the lights of happiness
And he could dress every day to the nines
Infusing in her heiress forever wine 's bouquet
And the love of animals.
So consequently
My sweetheart is an animal 's animal heiress
She eats meat only  if it has a label on it
Saying that animals are not  caged
Or mistreated in anyway.
Orion Sep 11
you are you are you are
shaking and holding yourself as your shell-shocked body buzzes with
sleepless anxiety that sunk its fangs deep into your skull
piercing your brain

stealing last night’s dream from its marbled pink nest
venom covered bone snapping the small bird’s neck
before dragging it away
to be swallowed whole

like a snake with its unhinged jaw and
malformed neck
and grating hiss escaping
like steam from between scales that dress its body

you arm yourself with a shovel and you feel the
Crunch
of a severed spine through the handle
the vibrations melding with your skin as the ***** hits the bricks below

you kick away the bleeding head before
reaching down its throat and
squeezing the other end to push
the decomposed baby bird into your

color-drained
and
bloodstained
palm

you wince as you toss the long
gnarled and
finally motionless body to the grass
and slide the dream back into its nest

coated in acid and venom and melting through your skull
one day-- like its hunter--
this bird will grow scales and slither and steal more of you
and you will continue to shake
mysa Sep 6
the earth shifts
feet cling to ceiling
knives dance in my chest
up is down
but down is not up
silver drips off of my fingers
a sheen falling up
or was it down?

a deer is on the ceiling
or is she on the floor?
she whispers
"you cannot be what you wish to be
if you do not first wish"
the earth shifts
her coat gleams
her eyes shatter and repair
the earth collapses

she is gone

i put my fingers to my lips
all i taste is metal
Ma muse est une mère poulpe italienne
Ascendant méduse kabyle
Ses tentacules sont des bras de mer interminables
Pour prétendre être l'objet du désir
De cette dame au coeur en éternelle couvaison
Pour prétendre dérober le coeur
De cette diva enrobée de charmes
Il faut être juste un homme vrai et honnête
Une personne simple et honnête
Un maxim'homme  de collection
Localisé  à vingt kilomètres grand maximum.
Un énergumène  simple et honnête
Spécimen rare du règne mâle,
Un bibelot de chair, d'os et de sang,
Un prototype de papier bien mâché
Qui pratique la randonnée,
La cuisine et partage sa passion
Foetale pour le règne animal.
Bref un phénomène tout simple,
Tendre et goûteux et iodé dans l'idéal
Qu'elle cuisinerait à feux doux avec ses airelles,
Un vrai de vrai,
Un authentique,
Un certifié, cachet de la poste faisant foi,
Un preux sanglier caméléon  de pré salé
Sans peur et sans reproche,
Telle est  la recherche de ma muse
Kabytalienne.
Chris Saitta Aug 31
The furrier tells the bell by the time of skinning,
Archangels by their clipped wings as they fell,
Statesmen by show of divided hands at plenary ringing,
The wind by quell of truant petals from daffodil.
And even love tells its beginnings and endings,
By lips shorn of lambswool words and yield of bale.
In light or darkness, though our animal souls uprisen,
Still in their wordless and naked measuring dwell.
Mitch Prax Aug 30
I have forgotten
how many cats she has but
****, are they lucky

6:24 PM
30/8/19
Randy Johnson Aug 27
I adopted Agnes six years ago today.
She'll be my dog until she passes away.
I named my Chihuahua after my late mother.
She's my dog and I won't trade her for any other.
Agnes got sick and a veterinarian examined her.
The vet discovered that she has a heart murmur.
Because of a tick, Agnes was temporarily paralyzed.
I didn't know a tick could do that, I was surprised.
She nearly died and it was hard for me to stand it.
Agnes is one of the greatest dogs on the planet.
I adopted Agnes on August 27, 2013.
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