"mangey" poems
He sneaks in the night,
and grinds upon the gristle of your bones -
in a cloak woven from the finest skin,
from the chimney he descends and creeps through your homes.
For old Saint Nick
is the propaganda before the fear,
his legend created to cover
the sick evil that manifests itself into cheer.
What's that thumping on your roof?
Trust me, it ain't no reindeer or adorable little elf -
before you can scream the world's black before you;
just another stolen skull upon his shelf.
For Krampus is one nasty wicked little devil -
so lock your windows, barricade the doors;
with a magic key he enters
his shadow bleeding blood into the snow-dusted floors...
lice jittering in the fur beneath his mangey pits,
and eldritch horns jutting from his head
he's a carnivore of the festive spirit;
his hunger and blood-thirst never truly fed.
And upon the Eve of this coming Christmas
he's got an exciting new trick -
for once he's gonna spare all the naughty children,
and instead devour our beloved old Saint Nick...
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
Honey suckles
Suckling
She pitter patters across the moon lit pavement
In the air there is a faint smell of blood
Behind her he stalks
"Oh love oh love"
Thy hands may touch whatever thy please
She follows her shadow in to the darkness
Where she finds a wall of bricks
And a stray cat
From the corner of the alley he's lurking
She sits on a worn piece of cardboar
Many persons home
He starts to approach but retreats
She feels someone
He call's her name
So she found him
In the moment of panic they embrace
Noises pour from within her
Her cheeks wet and scarlet
More than ever she relieved
But truthfully she's scared
The heart only as fragile as the beholder
Strong; but far too weak
He holds her
Not letting go
He squeezes
She's hurting
She can't breathe
She closes her eyes
Misunderstood they're whole lives
They suffocate eachother
Till the world is no more
Restless soul and empty bodies
Lay across the pavement
Dead and beautiful
They lay there for eternity
She who gives her body to the one with no concience is sure too be in danger
But its worse to give your heart and soul to ***** mangey stranger
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 11:35 AM UTC
Meanwhile,
A kid works up a sweat in the sun
Telling the asphalt the
Story of a pastel
Man making music.
He sits on the street, greets
A mangey old dog with a
Song and a
Belly rub, there.
Later on he lets
That dog eat the rest of his
Overdressed salad
And while it digests a
Reporter gets down on
One knee asking
"Are you depressed?"
Oh, he just smiles, says
"Nah man, I'm blessed."
Finished, he admires, then
Hurries inside and
Quietly regrets that the sidewalk
Always forgets.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 11:39 AM UTC