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ALC Apr 5
We are two wolves
Tearing at each other’s flesh
Biting in with savage need
Pushing and pulling for dominance.

We are two wolves
Working off of undiluted instincts
Of euphoric animalism.

We rip away our human pelts
And reveal our battle worn skins
Blemished with past wars and historic victories.

We are two wolves
Growling with pleasure and an insatiable appetite.
Digging our incisors into each other’s flesh
And grazing our claws down one another’s backs.

We score each other’s bodies
With nips, kisses, and tongue
Demanding one to admit the others rule.
To surrender and go docile.

But we are two wolves
Fighting each other
Each step of the way
With unadulterated ravishment.
-ALC April 4, 2019
You come to me like a wave soon to crest.
I wait with open arms upon the shore.
The distant ocean smooth like glass at rest,
Belies the energy it has in store.

The distant plane of water so serene,
That ripples faintly as it nears the beach.
Our love is fury like a wave unseen,
Its strength in evidence when within reach.

From far away you now are in my sight.
Inside me my emotions hit their peak,
Like the ferocious waves of frothy white.
Our love was never calm, was never weak.

The waves derive their power from below,
Beneath the calm your love is all I know.
@insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
I thought I'd take a walk today,
down the road,
around the block.
Detach myself,
go where I feel,
not where I think.

I found myself under dim street lamps,
questioning the lamps ferocity.
Man strives for evolution,
and around me it stands,
a testament to our ferocity,
our everlasting battle to be better.
Yet it feels so limp,
a dim light like a wisp of wind.
Not a raging fire,
a lions roar.

How great are we?
Are the edifice our of time a testament to our eminence?

I stare into the window of a home.
On the television,
damnation.
A preacher and a parishioner,
absorbing the rhetoric.

One might think nothing of it,
but everything has a motive.

As I round the bend,
I think to myself an old idiom,
"the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak".
Our evolution is stalled under the impression that these edifice represent progress.
Alas, our minds remain stale.
Thousands of years of blood,
greed and deceit,
rest under dimly lit street lamps,
unseen and ignored.
Copyright Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
Michael Briefs Apr 2018
Artemis of the wood,
sweet skill of deadly
silence,
her accurate aim and steady
strength
finds the subtle seam,
between
all things.
Her swift sentry,
airborne,
elegant and true,
flies with focused
ferocity.
The soft,
wet earth
surrounds and
welcomes;
her realm of the hunt.
The scent
of the fallen leaves,
cool and colorful,
subdue
my soul.
The forest hush is all that
remains...
Poem inspired by picture at https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10213076227916353&set=a.10208174166607884.1073741828.1113041505&type=3&theater
when blizzards rage and howling
   arctic winds did blow
profuse precipitation packed Philadelphia
   til white aery mountains did over flow

meteorological heft wrought pinkish glow
polygons pin wheeled and pirouetted
   landscape imprint pure as driven snow
diminution of visual acuity

accrued from two score plus nineteen birthdays
still marvel at freeze-dried raindrops
   reaction toward crystalline phenomena
   continues to grow

kaleidoscope of multitudinous
   hydrospheric blitz krieg terrestrial show
metaphor wrapped in supreme whiteness
   from singular entities high to low

mother nature imbues testament  
   teaches to offer self for world to know
as corporeal of flesh and blood
   we forget identity among human row

subtle riddle well hidden in molecule
   two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen in tow
offer quiet sermon to cherish beliefs
   and personal paradigms vis a vis status quo.
K Balachandran Apr 2017
A kite's distress call,
starved and thirsty,there she falls,
sun, calling shots.
Steven Forrester Jan 2011
A beast who travels by twilight
And kills his prey in the dead of night
With his soul aflame
For this new game
This game is cunning
This game is fast
This game keeps running
But it doesn't last
He stalks his prey so quietly
And kills this game with extreme ferocity
Who is this beast
Who turns the innocent into a feast
What is this beast I see
I know now,
This beast is me
(c) Steven Forrester- From Diary of an Ominous Mind

— The End —