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Don't waste your life barking at the moon,
You're better off home in bed
With someone who loves your body and
Who shines with a light of their own.

This is a temporary madness.

The Werewolves upstairs are howling.

The devil's in the detail, your dinner's in the freezer -
The note said.

Death came to us when we were young, my brother and I,
But changed his mind and took our mother instead.
It was an accident, of course.

Life is... just waiting for the war to be over.
Though in a very real sense, it never is... over.
And when we die we will be, no doubt,
At war somewhere else... for eternity.

It is the strangest thing to see water on a screen.
Water, flowing and liquid, in such a real way.
Beer never looks real... not even for real!

"Destiny, Destiny," she cried, "Where are you going, Destiny."
As a girl child of 4 or so ran into the bar-room laughing, gleefully.

Sunset on The Isle of Scalpay.
Bamburgh Castle and the view across to Lindisfarne.
Dawn light and the Seal on the rocks below Ravenscar.
I have been coasting for some time now...

This winter we had a family wedding and then a funeral in the same week.
We hired the same local bus for the mourners and I asked them
Not to change the ribbons, please.
The Werewolves were vocal about that too, of course.

I have arranged my Pension be paid weekly, on a Thursday,
Like a proper wage.

My brother, Ten Bellies, says he's Pieabetic!
I told him he's having a mid-Wife Crisis.
We were in the bar and Feng Stewy laughed -
He's the guy who arranges the tables on Bingo Night
To keep the Werewolves happy.

'Casu consulto' is a Latin phrase literally translated as "accidentally on purpose."
I have been trying for some time to use it in a poem
But it always looks deliberate.

I have known a thing to be true All my life...
When something is exactly 5 inches long,
It will turn out to be, equally exactly, 1 inch too short.

A man wears a hat to hide something about himself.
A woman wears a hat so that she is not not wearing a hat when all the others are.

The truth about Werewolves is not that they were wolves.

My proposed 4th Law of Poetry is -
For every Poet they are an equal and exactly opposite Poet.
The other three laws don't add nothing much.

I asked my brother how long we had to wait for the pub to open.
He said, an hour and ninety five minutes.
When I asked him, why not two and half hours or so, he said, that seemed like a long time.

I don't spend my time writing poems anymore about getting home before dawn
****** and torn from some false encounter,  some lost cause I set my heart upon.
Seek wisdom not to be wise but for wisdom to see you and to be recognised.

Sorry, got to go... the Werewolves...
Steve Feb 10
Demon’s lust for blood
Bathed in Dragon’s fire
Pixie’s dance like Pixie’s should
And Witches curse the pyre

Mermaid’s love to laugh
With a Unicorns fair grace
Be Werewolves’ bite along the path
And Vampire’s kiss that smile from off your face

A Wizard’s spell
In a Fairy’s mist
A Goblin’s lair - there if you can tell
And the Angel’s touch impossible for mere mortals to resist.
12 names 1 pome
Kore Nov 2018
release me
strip down my skin
shed the timorous flesh
of humanity

release that
beast that lives
in the notsosecret heart
of hearts

release me
let go my womanflesh
let my teeth out
of their prison

release that
tearing ripping ancient
moon beast
of days past

she longs
to stretch her legs
test her teeth
be released
i literally just want to be a werewolf that's what this is about
m Jul 2018
They ripped out your heart
using nothing but teeth and tongue
then walked away with it -
****** and fragmented.
Grinning teeth stained with red syrup
that drips from their mouths
like something they could afford to lose.

It's no wonder you
don't trust smiles anymore.
Natassia Serviss Nov 2017
Hour by hour the moon continues to rise.
She's way too bright and he's as dark as night.
Oh what big lies you live.
Why are you both so deceiving?
Oh look how hard it is to forgive.
Where's your excuse for leaving?
Run away, get away before he swallows your sanity.
She's built her argument on vanity.
You found love in the darkest parts,
The place where you can't have a heart.
She built it on a dream and a delusion.
He grew out of that plot and that illusion.
She loved him true, the only love she ever knew.
In her safest hour on his dimmest day, all she wanted was for him to pay.
He meant no harm and she did no wrong.
We know they hurt and they're not strong.
Little red, my friend,
there is no need to pretend that you didn't know this would eventually end.
At least in fact, you're both still intact.
You're not the victim and you're not the villain.
Both born of moon and light, they would always fight.
Now the wolf and red are in separate beds.
Their story together is a memory.
Another 2013 poem, written about a toxic relationship my friends were in.
tonight,
when the streetlights
go on well after dark
and the scintillating
moon illuminates
a painted mural on the
star filled night sky
behind the junkyard fence,
the skin stretches,
the blood boils,
the hair grows full,
the fingernails extend
and the human/werewolf
transformation is flourishing.
the blood soaked moon
looks good enough
to howl
under
Happy Halloween HP!
Hushhhh, let me let you in
on a secret: when Mummy tucks us in
for the night, we're not in for the night
- gap between ledge & limb, we leap it,
springheeled imps!
Moonlite's orphans in batcaped dressinggowns,
we skive the sheets. Lil' devils shimmy down
to a midnite playground.

Shushhhh, tonite we hunt
Lady Barbie from Dolltown Abbey.
She'll never get a crick in it, but I won't gob out
my plastic fangs at her plastic gregory.
'S dangerous game getting mislaid during play,
Lord Ken's action men haven't got the bits for a stakeout.

Mummy & Daddy don't believe in us,
but we don't want Daddy & Mummy's blood.

Whoooosh, from foldedup towers
of 'Twilight' duvet covers,
Castle Ovalstein we glide! Bat ballet,
but not to do battle with
wiener werecubs, rugface rats.
No, our supernatural dustup
is with the real Lords of the Night:
yellow peril, Bananas in Pyjamas.

Don't touchhhh me, Van Helsing,
you lay a garlicky glove on me
& I'll dob you in to Social Services'
nightline. Just because I'm a vampire
doesn't mean I'm not a ******.
Boris & Igor are my teddybears,
disinterring the toybox,
Paddington Burke & Winnie-the-Hare, yeah!

Mummy & Daddy don't believe in us,
but we don't want Daddy & Mummy's blood.

I am a jimjampyre, jimjampyre,
vanna drink your cherryade!
Am a jimjampyre, vanilla vampire!
I vont to drink strawberry shake!
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