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Andrew Sep 2017
Birds own the day
Bats own the night
Birds see in grey
Bats think they're right
At the break of dawn
Both take flight
Until darkness is gone
And we live in light
The beginning of dusk
Spells the end of our luck
Vampire bats steal our blood
Empire gats steal our love

The birds and the bees
Are no match
For the bats in the trees
They drain our youthful creed
And cause our heart to freeze
Until we hear the pleas
Of others being drained
We're glad they're in pain
We want them to be stained
By the nightly game

We've nightshifted into bats
Encouraging a nature nocturnal
It's like herding vampire cats
When the winged war is internal
Specs Aug 26
I know I'm not a morning person
Not am I one at night
I'm not quite sure just what I am,
'Cause nothing feels quite right.

The night-time makes my eyelids droop
The mornings seem to crawl.
Not a morning or a night person–
I don't think I'm a person at all.


/\   /\
(  •w•  )
\        /
   __/
    
I'm secretly a bat
this is the result of poorly organized and divided notes and doodles

Happy Halloween!
Her mouth resembled a
Black cat's fable
Just as vile
Half as smelly

I heard the singer
Singing
Underneath the rain

The Revolution
Should the televised

Next thing on the chord
She couldn't go to sleep
Nor could I
As we remembered

Different gangs
Punk Rods
Pink Elephants
But we loved each other

Both sentient beings
Old Posies
Just dogs
©7/22/18 James Dennis Casey IV
From my upcoming book published by Cajun Mutt Press:
Owl in Hot Rods with Pink Elephants and Dead Bats
Eno May 13
Delete the film rolls
The black
The white
The kaleidoscopic
Symbol-crashing
Days
Of flowering Winter heliotropes
Now the wood has rotted
And our forest
Feels empty
Feels fake
Someone clangs a triangle
We all hate the sound
Of hearts breaking
Like sticks snapping
Ensnared in a love nest for one
Where the bats
Come out at sunset
And ****
****
Me
All out
Til I’m gone
Eva Ellen Jan 28
I will dance at night
Bats sing a dark, Hamlet song
Shadows make great leads
Martin Narrod Aug 2017
You were standing in a red cardigan.
You told me somehow a bat had got in.
I got a broom and a bucket and put on a hat. We put the bucket on the broom and that was that. You told me to get the bat back out outside or don't come back to bed, I went to war with this 4 oz mammal, the war is on I said. I'm going to get it. Get outta this house or you're going to find yourself dead.

I made a war face, it swooped down at me, I said oh no you don't and threw the bucket over his wings, and that was that. That was it, and I won the war. That was that, I put it outside and then I closed the door.

Your red cardigan was easy to spot, even though you didn't have any makeup on, I saw you sitting there in the corner chair. Bucket on a broomstick you looked absurd to me, I asked you if you wanted something to drink. You said no, I just want to go back to sleep. I said oh, do you want to go to bed back with me.

Take off that silly red jacket, and that hat that doesn't match. Put on something more for sleeping and then let's get it on. You said okay. I said I'm starving. I told me to eat something if I was starving.

I picked you up and threw you down on the bed, I pulled off your pj's and your underwear fast. I said I'd like to eat out, you said you were thrilled, I said I won the war now I'm going to stake my win. You grabbed my head and pulled it closer to you, I grabbed you with my arms I knew what to do. Mammal, mammal, animal in me, I said let's play for keeps, you said I want you inside of me. I laid you down down down down and it was on on on I said let's get things hot hot hot you said I turn you on on on, I said I'd just begun.

We danced ourselves awake until the morning light arrived. And then I heard a sound from the window outside. I think he's back, I said, you said don't focus on him, I said I can't leave it if the war hadn't ended. I kissed your face I kissed your legs, I asked you to spit in my mouth. I'm you're warrior just hold on while I **** this flying rat, you made a face, I grabbed the broom, you put your red cardigan back on and met me with the bucket inside the living room.

I took the broom as my sword and the bucket as my shield, I take our heraldry very seriously. I through the broom in the air, and caught the bat with my shield, she went to open the door, I went to open the freezer. Not in there she screamed, but he'll never make it out alive. She said it'll make everything else smell I said he's got to die, I grabbed him by the wings and took him to the kitchen at once, turned on the garbage disposal and pushed him through it. Blood on my shirt, blood on the stove. Blood was everywhere even across her nose. I won the war I said with a gleam of excite, she said now come back to bed so you can claim your gift and your prize. So I went back to bed and gave her back my head. I stuck my tongue out far as I possibly could. And I went down, I went down down town. Oh I went down. I went down down town. I went to town, I went down down town. I went to town. I went down down town.
Vexren4000 Jul 2017
The woods share,
A strange commonality,
All so verdant and green,
Even when they are landlocked,
By twisting city streets,
The jungles and forests,
Are akin in their insects,
Buzzing around in droves,
The birds that sing and dance,
Freely in the heights of sky and trees,
The trees that reach for the sun,
Attempting to get taller,
Sometimes falling victim to parasites,
Or human hands,
It seems also,
That no forest is safe,
From the onslaught of man.

©BAS
JC Godfrey Jun 2017
Bat within the morning,
basking upon the dawn,
frolicking within the dull red,
as the heavens begin to yawn.
Bat within the skies,
enjoying the lulling breeze,
flitting through the autumn forest,
wandering 'round the trees.
Bat within it's home,
eaten many flies,
hibernate throughout the day,
then take to the skies.
This is a simple piece of literature that follows the delightful routine of a bat traversing the morning lands, heading home.
Fey Underwood May 2016
It takes one to know one swift fell swoop
like a bat out of **** and certainly the belfry.
If you've something to prove to the birds and the bees,
I won't bat an eye at your rhinoplasty.

I'll take two hoots, 'cause I sure won't give them.
Find somebody else to get up and go;
I cry like I fly like a carrion crow
and I've two left feet and no time to tango.

It takes three strikes 'til it's not just company
any more — it's a crowd and my agoraphobia
is making this worse, so I might disperse.

If you don't quite care, let's put two and two together;
playing pretend we're birds of a feather.
I could commend, but that's such a no-no;
you're more like a doornail to me, less like a dodo.

And if you don't much mind, I might just take five.
I'm chicken-livered, but at least alive
though I feel like a dead duck, dusted and done.
I won't be there, I'll stay fair and square,
right back at square one.

Now can you see how this is cyclic?
Makes me feel one sandwich short of a picnic,
up the wall, and driving me sick.
Apologies, I don't mean to nitpick,
and I know I've a number of bees in my bonnet,
but I've zero interest in your haiku and sonnets.

So here's one for the road,
turn by the way the devil drives you home,
and one good turn deserves
another.
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