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JadedSoul Aug 2014
a lifetime of anticipation,
I waited for the Great Feast
a lifetime of discipline,
to spare my appetite
not to spoil it
On mere junk food

As the big day came
The Menu was discussed
In exquisite detail
I was told,
About all the dishes
Their tastes and flavours

Hungry as a roaring lion
I patiently waited at the door
Inside the hallowed hall
My feast was being set
Pure white linen
****** crockery
And golden cutlery awaited
At my seat of honour

With tremendous pomp
The doors swung open
The majestic hall
in candle lit beauty
beckoned and welcomed
my every step

The servants showed my throne
Where I sat down.
Gleaming lids covered my feast
With
Candle light dancing on the polished gold

Hors d ouvres first,
destroyed I was when I saw
That someone else
was here before

My wonderful roast
Already carved,
Huge chunks eaten
And dry bones left

Fresh green peas
Were rudely dug in
By filthy fingers
No manners for a spoon

Desert was half eaten
Ice cream left to melt
And of after dinner mints
Only a handful left

Thus then violated,
My beautiful feast!
Others snuck in
And ravaged my table

They left some crumbs
spoilt leftovers
As the Locusts went on
Without a care!

Now I sit hungry
Alone and forgotten
Staring in disbelief
At my desolate table

How I wish I had known,
Before I came in
That the menu was a lie
And someone else had been

Elsewhere I'd have gone and eaten
Or at least not starved myself
In anticipation for a feast
That the Locusts have eaten

Daylight revealed my majestic hall,
merely an old shed
Where the Locusts were WELCOMED!

Far from being the guest of honour
I am instead the lowly servant
No rights or privilege
Left to clean the Locusts' mess

A live cockroach, if I can catch
Sustains me, barely
I fill my chipped cup
With tears of sadness
Our skins fell before the moon
Where only flesh finds itself
Crimson drops and drips
Wet with desire
A hunger
Tongues dance, teeth nip
The grating of your skin
The heady scent of death and rebirth
The smooth sweet lapping
Gluttony
The moon casts shadows upon
A golden meeting
Reverie
As I kissed what should not be kissed
And you ate what was not supper
A kiss for love
A kiss for desire
And a kiss for hunger
We died and were reborn
Irate Watcher Jul 2014
we don't touch.
the
an
ti
ci
pa
tion
BURNS ME.
Amy Perry Jul 2014
Nourished, full stomach;
Comfort for my dancing tongue.
Feeling satisfied.
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