Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
As the cobra falters before it doth strike I recoil away from thee, awaiting my moment to ricochet forward and make my ****. Such false security aids my real course and weakens my adversary’s resolve and as you happily take full advantage of this ill advised programme you can rely that your mistake is now my gain. As you plunge, I parry and as your momentum fades mine increases in velocity until my blade doth find its target.

This sword of mine, made of finest worked, metal, slides easily through your personage. Flesh, muscle, even bone presents a none problem for this well forged tool. Sharpened point now immersed so deeply through your core that it conveys me too close to this pierced torso. I am spattered by such spurts of blood and sickened by another’s foul breath.

We gaze for a moment, you in the horror and pain of defeat and myself in the satisfaction of victory. You remain upright only through the skewer I have delivered and it is at my decree that you do so. As I withdraw my being the blade extracts itself and it is only then that you are allowed to descend to your indubitable destination.

As crumpled legs can no longer hold the weight of thee I use the momentum of this blades removal to pirouette my body. The spin that culminates with such a strike, a laceration so immense that the removal of your skull is no more than a mere triviality. Your destination is now complete. This is the legitimate place for a lesser man and the norm for a superior warrior than thee.

Come take this gift dear Lucifer, I make a present to you of death's cadaver, it lies here before me at this very moment and it is yours. A donation from one great warrior to another. It seems that I fill such a bottomless pit with unworthy adversary. They suppose honour holds them to stand before such a skilled combatant but their is no morality for lesser men to try. There is no such thing as a honourable fool.

I seek he that will try my skills, he that will take me to the brink of death with more than a single strike. For this person I will gladly redeem as a worthy opponent, for he, I will present my respect in more than a just a mere bow. Such adversary should he become victorious will possess a legacy that will draw him to the status of majesty. I would gladly fall to this superior being and as such, this would be a most fitting and virtuous death.
10th August  2013 Posted Aug 26th 2014 © Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014.
DJ Thomas May 2010
A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated*  


Friday’s  off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath.   Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts,  scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain.     Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite.   Then  gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.

Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower


Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of  child saddled exhaust roaring  kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly.    *Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge,
past a single inviting  pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal
through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under
great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....


Pressured paced life -
impossible  commitments,
Living organic


.
copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010

This haibun is best read aloud in a true Welsh voice....
DJ Thomas May 2010
A ravaged beauty -
long threatened tired life,
riding appreciated  


Friday’s  off-road cycle ride started late with a heart-choking chill head-wind blown rain - blurring my glassed vision, so I trusted into the triple lanes of colours slicing through the Vale of Neath.   Here a builder’s ladder jumped boomeranging off it's white van - attempting to decapitate me - behind me it’s miss was announced by squealing brakes and crunching impacts,  scaring alive splattered visions of a flat-end and being posted within a near drain.     Surviving today's devilled ribbon of the dangerous windscreen imprisoned - sitting with pub bound murderous cohorts - I found off-road safe solitude’s mountain bike path East to Coelbren - joining new, a fine yet unsigned cycle route curling around Mynydd y Drum, to open views of Cwm Tawe as I pass hunting twisting through woods a single Red Kite.   Then  gravities speed, circles barriers into Ystradgynlais top - a narrow ribboned descent, hemmed by cars and paved children to the rugby fields.

Senses travelogue -
previously un-experienced,
time spins slower

Here the trails old section points to Swansea - winding lost betwixt fields, paths, trees and roads to Cwmtawe Cycleway proper, there to pedal beside and across Afon Tawe with repeated special offers of  child saddled exhaust roaring  kamikazes, bicycle maiming broken glass, proudly owned attack dogs, branch hung ball-sacks of excrement, visions of the lost ripped-away steel gated stops, hacked-off wooden fences and never-there deceitful dreams of red doggy bins all disguised what passed for hidden beauty, which he called lovely ugly.    Backing-into Pontardawe to crawl away below the dark bridge, past a single inviting  pub - I accompany the Tawe and it's twin a decrepit polished canal through ***** alleys - until our hero stutters, gapes then tunnels under great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired....

Pressured paced life -
impossible  commitments,
Living organic**

.
copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
Wally Smith Feb 2010
Last night we measured time in naked bliss,
a testament to every searching kiss.
Still I feel the soft warmth of your thighs
rising, falling round my thrusting hips.
The devilled mischief in your angel eyes:
the magic you performed with tongue and lips.
I thrilled at every petal-fingered touch,
repaid with kisses bringing muted cries,
until the peaking ecstasy was such
that both our bodies drowned in shuddered sighs.
Tonight has given me an appetite,
desire craves at my soul, an itch needs scratching.
I desire no food or water, just your body next to me,
in me, your tongue Salaciously squirming in my mouth.
I yearn for you to see that my proclivity is not for chocolate,
but your sweet breath on my body.
I smoulder, tingle, burn at your touch.
I covet you, I long for you, I blaze for you.
Cook for me tonight a sumptuous feast of smouldering avarice.
Devilled debauchery, sautéed sin, overindulge me in you.
Boil my blood by touching me with passion,
feed my famine by ravaging my wanton soul.
I need to feed, I need to thirst, I need to purge with you.
Slake my passion, the only way we know how.
I crave you. I hunger you. I come for you.
© JLB
20/08/2014
00:07 BST
Despite countless factorial permutations
and combinations, this cyber surfer
avails two alms
(one from alma mater, thee other

handily gifted from alma papa)
seeking succor asper sum er set Maugham
mull eight mom mee **** sic cure ring
(via chemotherapy and radiation) human *******,

boot metastatic carcinoma snatched away
futuristic pharmacological balms
so glad experienced being tethered
in utero umbilical connection
and this brother smothered and overly mothered,

etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from hard school of hard knocks

which i bewail sets back and gloms
mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decrees otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted

by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
yes...iris sieve blurbs from gals and two guys
that span the World Wide Web, and exude

premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubularly trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams
what happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize

optimal opportunities searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit

spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual soundcloud
of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail

time, then maybe monopolized feedback offered
to this toothless mwm quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup, yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin packed glue tin free

NON GMO gluten free
fruity tall tales for a male
forty-two years shy
sans Bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short with a nail
(possibly nine inches) hammered into
faux coffin, cuz this imp doth turn pale

at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by birds - such as quail
Mongoose, or ibis (though aye n'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail

across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
relief since homelessness -

therein lied the rub
but dove vine intervention    
cooed not comb sooner
main impetus explaining this rambling spiel

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
the warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gun whale
and thus desperation finds pleading salvation.

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
before mine danse macabre
doppelganger draws dagger

punctured skein tight
as a yank key notched belt
housed within mine impenetrable
hermetically sealed invisible bubble
drapes with blackened

Hades hued habiliment therein dwelt
sinister saboteur mastermind
marauder of Hubble
piercing fiery ocular rift
presence unseen but felt  

demands sacrifice once
into bowels of Hades
force at Devilled Pitchfork
to traverse river Styx
with unadulterated gelt,        
which known phantasmagorical double

diabolical self amidst aftermath
from Armageddon rubble
astride charred global ruins
entire civilization melt
planetary paroxysm

prognosticated by Maya sages
with 11th hour stubble
birthed Darth Vader nemesis  
evil upon earth he did pelt
annihilating mankind,

the derelict species that fueled trouble
hence evil twin appointed
apocalyptic malevolence spelt
desiccation, humiliation, and laceration
  
upon once verdant veldt
with mass crematorium desecration
left horrific blistering welt.
Tan Sichuan Countdown

to **** sapiens extinction
predicted millenniums in past
to occur December 21
two thousand and twelve

(that date elapsed without incident
but beware unexpected    
cataclysmic circumstance)
after con comma tinted common era,

whereby catastrophic spark
detonating inferno incinerating blast
eradicating extant flora
and fauna bereft sans hegira
with no means to interrupt the die
since the dawn of civilization cast.

Impossible to escape
ominously predetermined quaking
fate of human rat race
nor turn back hands of time

with origin of species on clock face
thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday
without faith to brace
allowing, enabling and
provide Gaia to redeem terrestrial space

vestiges of teeming billions soon graced erased
criminal minds without a trace
forcefully relinquishing simians
planetary stranglehold amazing grace
proffering tabula rasa
for another dominant species
to claim the place.

Sirens promulgate emergency
toward impending inescapable cataclysm,
yet no place to run or hide
lest one boards rocket light-years away,

which makes suspense thrillers
birthed by John Grisham
enviable plot to keep
total Earths’ destruction at bay.

mice elf, a lifetime americaonline
Meme bur hastens to convey dire
crisis sparking
to offer electric nom de plume
Harris40tude a papa who did sire

deux darling daughters,
yet for ages hive stung
with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire
meow n childhoods' end fostering people

strangers fork get dish
comb bob yule hated communication,
per S0S sprinkled with awe shucks corny,
Egret - letting opportunities
take flight aspire,

now pleasures soft
as gossamer feather bedding
down play hardened
angst riddled psyche, where ire

Ronny gully stubbornly thrives
amidst adversity as father time spins gyre
row scope at greased lightening speed,
intimating with dead reckoning to hire
grim reaper, who **** patient

as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire
and muck bogs down this dada robbing
existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre
doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz

Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir
or equivalent enlightenment re:
home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire
so haim trying keep sea legs
one step ahead of tipping point
envision self pitched into abyss, thus end of wire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
now, asper that unwelcome deathly still intruder
tis thee demise of life i.e. known
(among other names) as grim reaper
accompanied by ghost of
John (toot till loo to you) Bankhead Magruder.
Pisceanesque Jul 2015
(meaning: wisdom that is incomprehensible to one of ordinary understanding or knowledge)

Alone, let me dissolve into the stale persistence of repeated memory, where,
to sink, into that moment, long at last, I will;
to time that stained my white and holy life like thick excreted waste,
as lost among the black apostles, self detest infection festered.
My soul did roast my psyche.

Let me watch through wiser eyes as I was suckled dry by rogues and devilled men who
fed me lies and praised degraded hopes in tight knit ******* ropes and
prayed their symbiotic futures whole;
their shackled lives, encased by squalid dwellings, ***** to empty, burnt to coals. Then,

let me fear again the death I cheated, let me shy away again from light and love,
as once I did,
and let the drugs inspire hunger, let my ribs admonish friendships;
show me seated on the sharpened iron throne that clawed its way into my life.

Let me remember courage, this, when biting clean the straps
that bent my arms behind my back,
that tied my feet without allowing slack, that stole my mind, that seared my life,
that scarred my flesh and sent me running, set me free at last
from final unforgiving seas that tempted me with futile guarantee
to nurture, care and carry me.

Let me, lastly, naked, stand in stark surrender, found by precious realisation.
Finally human once again! Majestic once again! While
chains of brutal, rusty, rotted steel detach,
and I begin to heal; to patch at last, my puzzled life that, muzzled,
once,
I hanged among
such sordid ruin.
Now a sequined future wheel rotates as I transition
from a past so art surreal,
so **** unreal,
and yet, a history, sad, but passed, that’s mine, alone to boldly feel.
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 29 July, 2004
-
You twist below earths casing with unease.
Ravens caw awakens you once more with
such rasp of unholy calling.
Skeletonised featureless humanity with broken
casket worn by years of gluttonous worms and
maggots frenzy.
Weighted down with soiled crust, you excavate
within your grave, driven by the glorious call of that
murderous brood, pecking demandingly above with
such Tomb Stone drumming.
Appealing for their master to return.
Upon the midnight hour such clawing bone appears
through earthen clays that fall beside thee.
Back once more to their righteous hiding place.
The clock slowly ticking for such a time when
freedom will be your reckoning.
Eventually to bare such sight as no man would
invite to call.
Resting wearily after such rite you ****** your
caller from its lair and feast on sullen flesh and
blood as around you  feathers floating around
you in surprised cascading chase.
Not the most captivating meal but such will sustain
you until sinew repairs itself and ****** meat once
more returns to bone.  
Plenty is the time when metamorphoses completes
for  more appetising morsel.
Awakening complete it is time to delve into this new time.                                                            ­  
A future where you are once more free to feed on
living flesh.                                                           ­                                 
Once more to be Master is your calling.
Off you go into the night, off you go to have your
way and feast till Devilled hearts content.
Into nights shadows do you stride.
Posted Aug 24th 2014 © Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014.

— The End —