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neth jones Jul 6
the sleeper...

riled in slumber
         her face fevered
     cussed about the terrain
                                     of a floral breeding
  bedding patterns and the print
                                        bunched in struggles
in smudges
                     an amateur trial with sisters makeup
     primal cosmetics
            make a mock
                    daubed
                                ceremony for slumber

dusty and museum are her dollworks
        an amphitheatre audience
                                 overlooming her berth
    flaunting the gallery shelves
                sustained expressionist menace
Roman eyes and Victorian ridicule
stuffed suffering with Ugly Duckling down
****** sawdust and your sullied label
they bray and they brawl
         and they sluice their gull gall
    a sick drizzle
       over the sleepers form

   from the exterior
  wild wails the weather
its being
     drubbing
  peers fragile
at the windowpane
a raid on this vulnerable sleeper
impounded in bedroom aloft
raised to meet the jet stream

she is fumbled in dreams...

  abraded adolescent swells
judder out figments
  a bleed of vandals
     siling her muted childhood
       parading the playground
          berating old
         once loved playthings
       adopting no sympathy
    adapting in favour
      of the wild riding will
        of the direful pre familiar

into the woods...

a ***** charmed breath
       dressed smartly as boy
stoppers her pathway
       insisting a gentleman's assistance
frustrates her recitations
      of grandmothers doting
           stern teachings
         like fragile pottery
            come to harm
         broken into teeth
the quick blood beating
       this nocturnal forest
     busy in heat
      bonding death
       to refract the hustling moon

a company of wolves
    fill out the clearing
not a spell too soon
their howls reverberate
             jeering
mocking their new glut
sifting followers
      from the raggle-taggle array of fools
the foolish dreamers
          rounded up
amongst them she stands
red dressed and nervous
one hand clasping
                  and sexing the other

fortified
a great jaw operates here
an excited irresponsible mastication
committed to this fairytale

...agitation in her sleep
Inspired by the movie version of The Company Of Wolves

Sile = Strain OR filter
Orakhal Dec 2020
Ceremony of might
fight that to not be fought
reign down a lust
on all of kind and bruise a nothing nought

shallow steep firth to a keep
forever at the clay
behold a cure to all and more
forgot not to its way

let **** be **** and kindle
as to death do only weep
her fury slay the risen tide
a grey inside the sleep
Shaquille Gaines Nov 2020
There are stories of old,
Told among us.
Tales of God-like beings,
Whom we must distrust.

They conquered the forest,
And tamed the seas.
They rule the world,
Or so they believe.

They took our land,
And claimed our kills.
But that's not the worst
Of their skills.

It's their barks and howls.
Their snarls, not glares.
They gave us "labels,"
But they did not care.

They call us "wolves"
They wanted peace
We played along,
But their betrayal ran deep.

They launched steel rocks,
And used detached claws.
I lead them away,
But landed in death's maw.

Now my body lays dying,
But my pack has survived.
The stars weep with misery,
As I close my eyes.
Shevaun Stonem Nov 2020
i.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s hard to hide my fangs.
I’ll hiss and snarl and spit the blood
of those who trespass against my land.

ii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s not that hard to understand.
I cannot be tamed or caged or chained,
I am the alpha of the pack.

iii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and there is no strength I lack,
but hiding and camouflaging
with the sheep
does not make my fur more black.

iv.
most days I am more
wolf than woman,
and you’ll find me bathe
underneath the moonlight.
in the slightest of mannerisms
you’ll discover, it’s not that
easy for me to hide.
hunting and guarding and marking
until the weary day turns to night.
in the way, that I tread the land
these claws covered by a pretty coat
and smiling- hah, no that’s the
predator baring her fangs to show you
how it’ll dig into your throat.

more wolf than woman | shevaun stonem
where's my fellow wolf pack?!
I was raised by a pack of male wolves

Who taught me their version of womanhood

They called me Little Red Riding Hood
Handed me a cape
They told me to run through the woods
So I did.

When I got to the house of safety
And found a wolf hiding there
I thought he was my family
So I was not scared
When his paws were on my body and I dissolved into nothingness

I was raised by a pack of wolves
Who never bothered to tell me
I was one myself
my version of the tale
Cassia Jackson Oct 2020
tear down their thrones;
take back your crown,
with blood upon your teeth.
oh darling, change your shape;
for within you there is a wolf.
you were born to howl,
and to serenade the moon.
The Gray Wolf Oct 2020
The time is now
Prepare to fight
We move as one
Under dead of night
We hit the ground
Without a sound
Everywhere we look
There's evil abound
The hunt begins
We absolve your sins
Don't take us lightly
We're not jester's and fools
Warriors of God
The legion of wolves
Two wolves, dancing in the night
The way they play is such a magnificent sight
As they run, enjoying every breath of air
The two dance around the trees without a care
One wolf stops, and they both stumble to the ground
All in a jumble wolfish grins and laughing all around
The wolves rise and look to the sky
Sing out do the wolves, sound ringing out in harmony,
'I won't say goodbye!'
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