"bloodthirst" poems
Little kitten
i would have your
purr
and bristle fur
inside of you
i'd be lion
strong
And you could scratch
and cut
and use me as your
post.
And i would drink you
up
up up
my tongue my throat
a
vestibule in time
catching and licking and suckin
and taking you in
sublime.
All fluid and raw flesh and blood
My hunger for you is feline *** canine
Bloodthirst, this urge
this roar
inside of me
for you.
Animal intent
I am your awakening,
the ache to your throb
you pulse through my veins
and i want to be taken
in your claws.
You are not submissive
and i am not Domme
but you'd melt in my paws.
Up high
Against a wall
i would carry you on my shoulders
your back against the wall
and drink and breathe and become your flesh
from within you i'd break and re-mould
and detail the design of your love
for me.
I would be your strength
embodied
a boy of flesh
of depth
of passion
of friendship
fashioned intrinsically
with love and
Oneness.
I can only be the only one.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:24 AM UTC
I think I might be too tired
To be outraged.
I want to stand on my head and
Hands in front of the moon just
Clearing the horizon, and make
Myself into a peace-sign.
The only flag I wish to paste
Over my facebook profile picture
Is a huge, white one.
*No more. Please.
Peace.*
But all I can do is waste whispers
Underneath the raging roars of
Bloodthirst, revenge and hearts
Vocalizing the pain of their lost
Limbs.
Too tired to be angry.
Too dry to cry.
Victims. Aren't we all?
I draw November air
And exhale something like a
Prayer, as my loved ones walk to
And from work and school like
Potential bulls-eyes in the
Eyes of pure, ******* evil.
I'd cover a grenade
For any one of them. But for now
I stand against the rising moon
Like a capital "I", then
Put my dot of a heart
On the ground directly
Before me, looking
To the skies.
Furiously fatigued; a tired
Human exclamation
Mark.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
We have a thousand poems for
Every one of your bombs.
With each act of bloodthirst
And slaughter, we respond with
The force of volumes on peace.
Heaven; a holier word than Hell.
One birth overshines a
Hundred deaths.
Cowards wound.
Heroes heal.
Poets create. You cause
A thousand tears with every bullet.
Well, we compose oceans of comfort
In your wake.
Our ink overpowers your lead.
We have a thousand poems
For every one of your bombs.
You are the bringers of death to
The flesh. We are the armour
Of the soul.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
With manic laughter
He kills and slaughters
Reason, he doesn't need
Bloodthirst, is all he feeds
Raging, through the streets
Killing, whomever he meets
Inhumane, are his deeds
Merciless bloodthirst, he feeds
Once again the moon is covered with shade of blood
Now is his period, the one named Jason Mud
Again, he's out to ****
Quenching eternal bloodthirst, yes he will
|AB|
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 5:13 AM UTC
I'm in a dangerous state of mind
Still feeling the cluster of pain inside me
I continue to feel the empty
Stripped down to my bare essentials;
I can't tell you what I have left
It's still hard to breathe
The weight on my lungs forever lingering
And I can't help but to revert back to my old ways
The bloodthirst is making its precense known
Yet again
Why do the good memories fade
While the bad ones become more profound
Overwhelming me with such intense hurt,
riddled with anxiety
I can't cope
It seeps its way through, right down to the bone
It has entirely consumed me
Why won't it let go,
Of its chokehold around my neck
This pain
Is asphyxiating
Me
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:08 AM UTC
I've never believed you could absorb someone's energy
But I'd like to try it with you.
Open a vein, slit an artery
Drink you blood, your essence, through.
I want to crack your skull, delicately, thinly
See the wonders that brain of yours hides
I want to open your chest, rip your ribs apart
And study the workings of your insides.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
Harsh geographical tongues,
Set up against the asphalt gleaming in the bright light,
The A Crowd betwixt and between- efforting that cool knowing stance to cover the fear reeked knee **** bloodthirst their inadequacy always spawned.
The B Crowd simpers aghast at what unconscious desires to adopt the life husk of burned out hucksters has wrought.
The sentimental inspector dutifully tweaks the scales so we all have a tighter grasp on true value.
Postscript: Lord grant me the grace to disguise the portentous notions that I am anything other than what I pretend to be...
[Rolloroberson copyright 2020]
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
Washington had never seen a grin
On an American face
Till now
It had war written all over it
But, the battle had just begun
The trees had dropped dead
In the icy breeze
Catching a glimpse of the water
In the icy calm of Delaware...
Preface
Hessians and Brits
Were in their rightful wits
They were jostling for another win
After losing New York
For Washington, it meant the ****
"Victory or Death" so it seemed
The American Plan
Historians say we were 3000 troops short
But, I say we were 2400 brave men up
The crossing of the Delaware River
Became the manoeuvre of the 18th century
December 26, 1776
The whistling of winds amidst wailing bloodied soldiers
The fury of gunfire ripping the chests of a hundred Hessians
The command of American advancement with 2400 troops
All led to cover taken behind the Trenton houses
By the British stooges
The End Of Hessian Troops
Germans had become notorious for drinking
And by now
Their senses had yielded
And the night had redacted their bloodthirst
One must say,
Warriors glance and prospect
Winners celebrate and revel
Americans were about to
Descend unto sudden death without suspicion or suspect
However, with sudden death comes everlasting glory
For example, a battle of belligerence depicted by Emanuel Leutze in "Washington Crossing The Delaware"
That was the Battle of Trenton, my friends at Hello Poetry
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 4:45 PM UTC