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MARK RIORDAN Nov 2017
THE BIG GAME HUNTS ARE STILL ON
THEY COME TO THE UNITED STATES
HOW CAN WE STILL **** THESE
MAJESTIC CREATURES AT AN ALARMING RATE



LIONS ELEPHANTS AND THE RHINO
ARE HUNTED TO THE END OF LIFE
DON'T BRING THE TROPHIES INTO AMERICA
PRESIDENT TRUMP SAYS YOUR IN STRIFE



WEALTHY AMERICAN GAME HUNTERS
STILL CRAVE FOR THE ****
HOW CAN THEY BE GIVEN THE RIGHT
TO SHOOT THESE GODS AT WILL
BIG GAME HUNTING IS STILL ON IN TODAY'S SOCIETY IT IS INCREDIBLE  THAT THESE TYRE OF PEOPLE STILL THINK IT IS STILL OK TO **** THE MAJESTIC CREATURES ELEPHANTS LIONS
Jeevan Oct 2017
“Hello, and welcome to the show.
My name is Captain Sin.”
As Dancers tumble to and fro,
protected by thick skin.
“Release the snare!”, the Captain yells,
gripping a chair, metal strikes bells,
The audience roars with anticipation.
And the tigers temper, is just causation.

But Captain Sin is never through.
Lacking neither whip or mood.
He swings his crop and hits it true,
confidence is what he exudes.
The tiger rears to claw his face,
But Captain Sin just seems displaced,
too quick to see or venerate,
a cause for cheers to celebrate.

Another crack across the skin,
the beast now seems subdued.
Another smack across it's chin,
the monster takes review.

The cage is closed to mournful eyes.
For those who thought of Sin's demise.
And Captain Sin, takes a final bow.
He removes his hat, to cloak his brow.
Sin shades the line of red they missed.
As music plays, the show persists.
Let me know if it reads smoothly.
Eleni Jul 2017
'Are you pleasing those Lions?'

She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.

'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'

City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?

'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'

That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.

'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'

She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets

And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
This short poem was partially inspired by one of my favourite songs from The Doors called 'Hyacinth House' whereby Jim Morrison expresses loneliness and the nature of being judged by others based on careers, personalities and relationships. I combined this with the strong presence of the lions in Trafalgar Square in London, which have a intimidating appearance and represent the strength of the British Empire. These eyes of judgement seem to pierce through the speaker in this poem who is being criticised by the personified statues for being unworthy of recognition.
Even in the darkest times
Even in the most horrific of events
As they beat us; trying to ***** out our light
They are infuriated to find us standing strong
Against the crashing blows inflicted upon us

Our spirits roar with every hit; defiant
Yet our bodies; fragile and weak
Crumple to the ground
Yet this satisfies them not

Because what doesn't **** us
Makes us stronger
Because no matter how harsh
Our pain and humiliation may be
Our fire and hopes burn brighter
Helping us hold on
And tear of our chains

You can whip my body
But my soul and spirit are free
They belong to no one
And as long as I remain steadfast
You will never be able to push me down
With everything that's happening I'm driven to pessimistic thoughts
Stanley Wilkin Feb 2017
The curious activity of men/women

makes me wonder precisely when

both will learn how to conjoin

with rabbits, geese, bull and lion.


Talking incessantly like birds,

roaring like lions. However absurd!

snapping like crocodiles

or habitually waiting in human files,


torturing like cats

water-boarding rats,

rolling like logs

snarling like dogs.


snorting like pigs

gobbling up figs

In everyone an animal lurks

whether saints or jerks!
Illya Oz Oct 2016
You called me cupcake
Because that's all you saw
The sweetest parts of me
Not the the scars that I bore

I will call you a lion
Because of the strength in your heart
You were always so brave
So caring, so smart

But now we have both turned to mice
Too scared to fight our wars
Because you are not longer mine
And I not longer yours

This is not what I wish
Disassociated from you
Without a word spoken
To much isolation for two

I want you to know
That I still love you
Just not the way...
I use to

I want to talk
I want to speak
I want you to smile
So my world isn't so bleak

Just because your not
My whole world any more
That doesn't mean I don't
Want you to be part of it
I'm so sorry Micah, I hope if you read this you ever read this you can forgive me and still be my friend. I don't hate you and I hope you don't hate me either :) Thank you
Martin Narrod Aug 2016
I've harkened dark trails, nonexistent of earth. If we went across the spring or across the Snake we'd be bush whacking for sure. I had been on packed earth, trails of dirt on the daytime, not the late midnight snack of predators as I slowly moved past their game trails. Moose and black bears hovered in the willows, while my footsteps fell out beneath me, up to my knees, up to my calves, couldn't somebody have stopped this. Our spotlight blew out, but later I found out the batteries hadn't died. It was just the hold button was locked my fearless spotlight alive, like three small pots of honey, we slowly moved through the thicket, not a creature moved its digits, not even a cricket stridulated. Oddly peculiar we crept around each bush, only to find horse, bear, and cat ****, the bear's so fresh I could squish it. Heavenly fodder, please lead me astray, from everything that's bigger than I, living on these back-trails. Because all I've got is my OKC should a grizzly be hot on my tail. If I bleed I know evil should find me dead or eat me for certain.
bargain hunting,
as dangerous as
hunting for socks
that match
There should be an odd sock emporium.
James Alai Mar 2016
Cats are evil
Dogs are good.
Pigeons are winged rats.
Pigs are food.
Cows just stand there
except when it rains
Crickets are annoying
And goldfish lack brains
Mice are cute
Rats are not
Bears are fat and lazy
Deers are shot.
Polar bears seem lonely
Wolves work in a pack
Foxes are silent
Parrots talk back
Rabbits eat your garden
Termites eat your home
Turtles win the race
Buffalos roam
Hippos will **** you
Panguins can't fly
A hen is a girl
A rooster is a guy
So many creatures
Each so unique
If I was to write them all
This poem would last a week!
I met her in a cold cemetery
somewhere in the south-side of Chicago;
raindrops foreshadowing snowfall
fell delicately on her tanned face.

Her embrace warmed me throughout the winter,
and her laughter soothed my damaged mind.
I wanted to travel to Paris,
yet she so dearly longed for Indiana's fields.

I decided that I'd like to be a lion,
and she decided that she'd be a lion too.
Nights kept passing quickly, until they slowed.
Suddenly the weather was too cool for lions.

We parted upon the promises of Spring,
both of us agreeing to remain quite close friends.
Off she went to her muddy mid-western fields,
yet here I stayed longing for cold rains.
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