Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Vani j Jun 2016
A cat was found on the street
A man had left him lifeless ,beaten
Black and blue literally
It had some scars to show up for the persons artistry
Now a cat is called mean
Well never heard a cat dying a man green
And man is a social animal
But sometimes animal part comes out at the scene
But the fact is man has a bigger animal in him that any lil blue dyed cat named smurf can bring on the scene
And I m not being gender specific each time I write a man there is a man along with a woman ,fact was I just wanted to write human but each time I guess  the animal in me came on the scene.
On a cat who was dyed blue by a human
Kenna Marie May 2016
When my mind was buzzed, a sabertooth swallowed me whole.
His stomach wasn’t digesting me so there I was, just thinking about the life I had lived in the abyss of his stomach grits.
I wanted my body to explode in glass pieces and break through his skin to escape, but all I was doing was playing with a messed up fate.
As some would say, I made this arrangement to have this play date.
“People are crazy!” was their debate.
He wanted to satisfy his hunger, I wanted to succumb under the pressure and just accept what was whatever.
It had always been a possibility to be the target someday- so now I was the prey.
You can’t outsmart the hunter, you become meatier and meatier every day.
Lena LeFay May 2016
I am no better, than the wolf
Hiding in a sheeps skin
To linger in the woods
I want to hunt you down
Tear your innocence apart

I like blood’s taste
And I like how it paints

Red stains and white wool
Just enough to keep me satisfied
When your eyes go blank
And the smile fades
My hunger may be fed
We are the lemmings
marching together towards the edge of the cliff

We are the ants
blindly following each other in the circle of death

We are the bees
sentenced to die for our curiosity

We prey
We ****
We eat
We fight

We are
desperately clinging on to
our pack
our flock
our herd
terrified of facing death
alone
Randy Johnson May 2016
I've got a new dog and she's as pretty as she can be.
She has light brown fur and her name is Marie.
She is a very sweet dog and I'm glad that she's so tame.
She is special, that's why I gave her my mom's middle name.

She is mixed, she's part pit bull and part hound.
She is beautiful and I'm glad to have her around.
I love my new dog and she loves me.
I am very lucky to own Marie.
Leia R Apr 2016
Hold tight to your humanity,
my dear
even in the worst of times
for if you lower yourself to
their animalistic ways
there you shall be and
there you shall stay            l.r.
I heard, he gets super social during the winter,
and then lives the single life during the summer.

I heard he's a social butterfly,
charming as a satyr

I heard he used to live in the white house

I heard he has the coordination of a God,
balance so awesome he could walk across mountains
climb trees

I heard he's a wicked hedonist.

I heard he can jump 5 feet high!

I heard he is brilliant, like rocket scientist brilliant
Like can con you out of your pants brilliant.

I heard he INVENTED COFFEE.

I heard he's super curious
open,
like if he sees something new he
HAS to explore it.

Yeah, I heard he'll try anything twice.

I heard his sister has a beard

I heard she's super dominant

I heard he doesn't cry
I heard he doesn't even have tear ducts

I heard he can learn his own name, and come to it.

I wish I could party with a goat.
I mean, I'd party with a Goat.
Jules Apr 2016
A wind rustled in the trees
A flock soared above the skies
All was peaceful, all was calm—
But then something lurks in the shadows; peaceful no more.

For there it is: danger a-prowl
The deadliest animal, the most terrible thing
But it’s no lion, it’s no wolf
It is mankind alone.

The hunter sharpens his gaze, shifts his gun
A fawn is nearby, painfully innocent
Illegal, illegal, the subconscious whispers, stop, stop, stop!
But the hunter does not pause, for ignorance is bliss.

The conscience gnaws, the heart grows heavy
But still he aims—now, now! Let the bullet sink!
The shortest second, the briefest blink:
The hunter hesitates.

He stares at the fawn, oblivious to him
(Illegal, illegal! Stop, stop, stop!)
He stares and stares and stares—what has he become?
The hunter steps back; he lowers his gun.
proud of this one: another old poem, written a year or two ago. time goes.
Emma Apr 2016
The crows circled patiently
Their charcoal feathers contrasted the white
Of the mountain snow

Howl

A huge bellowing howl
The last desperate cry of a dying animal
Was heard above the winter trees
Spruces and green pines iced with snow
And somewhere deep inside
Something savage and unseen
Took its last whispered breath
And with one final howl
Welcomed the sweet kiss of death
Next page