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.
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.
Drones fly through the hivebatch,
Watching those disgusting lowbloods
Go on with their day.
Burgundy, bronze, gold.
Lowblood, lowblood, and yet another lowblood.
How dreadfully boring this place is.
Why don’t we change things up a bit?
Why don’t we hear those little ones scream?
Missile after missile
Is shot from my ship.
Scream after scream
Is let out by the children.
Why don’t we take a picture
To remember this day?
Scarlet flames dance around
Ashes that were once bodies.
I grab my palmhusk
And take a selfie.
Ψish you Ψere here!
I replayed Hiveswap: Act 1 yesterday. Here’s a poem inspired by Trizza Tethis’s selfie at the end of the act.
When is Act 2 coming out???
madness and elegance
of thorns and lust
she was born
without end nor bourne
exquisite but ever torn
sophistication and thirst
of blood and the gracious curse
I feel so dizzy seeing
the dancers in the square,
their shadows are flying
into a royal dimension,
like they are some riders
of the eternal flame,
the eclipse of doubt is
no longer in my attention.
Their eyes are speaking some
exotic and tropical truth,
that no one could ever
they are like saviours
in the moonlight,
I'm impressed by their youth,
like paradise phantoms, in front
of the chaos, they never bend.
It's like going through a fine portal
into the arena of a ******,
where the hands of the virtue
are touching the house of arts,
she's the heiress,
she's our destiny's surgeon,
blowing away the storms
from the paradise of our hearts.
It's like we all gathered
in a fiery reunion
in which victory rises
from the empire of dance,
the pattern of the wind and
clever masks are in communion,
melting this silence
in a memorable romance.
Petals scatter with sweet honey from the hexagonal sun
And drip their nectar unto the heiress’s staff’s bun
Her lips shine with the yellow blood of her little wasp enemies
Disguised with a soft and young smile that’s hidden breathlessly
The young ruler’s snow hair dissolves into sweet sprinkles of canary
And her golden eyes shall unleash a sting into whoever she shall marry
A poem I started yesterday and finished today. Based on this artwork I saw on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/thegraystray/art/Inktober-2017-Queen-Bee-711131419. I got her permission to do this poem. Please check out her art, it's freaking awesome!
Mad cow is dairy heiress. this future of mankind mocks today!
Call me a queen because i have the wealth
Call her my heiress because one day she'll replace me
My wealth is my treasure
And my treasure is him
Heiress is not my choice
Heiress is my enemy
But she's mine
She's next to me
If one day I vanish
If one day I can't protect him anymore
Will be pass to her
Will be given to her
The throne I'm protecting
The position I always wanted to be
Soon she'll have all those things
She'll have my treasure
And I don't have choice
I don't have the power
But to give the title to her
As my *Heiress
You may wonder what's the real meaning of the poem but try to comprehend and think more for you to get the real meaning of it. :)
— The End —