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"predation" poems
Ashes rained down on the fields As fire rises Nature has no shields The elements' surprises With declining yields The valley of ashes Where the sun shined The planet crashes Where the moon aligned Life flashes The world is ours I hate humans Make money buy cars I hate humans Get drunk battle scars I hate humans Oh, just watch the stars I hate humans I'm not one to stereotype Did it for the rhyme Smoking from the peace pipe Feeling sublime All we got is time They say we got time Deforestation Exploitation Marriage of children before their first ovulation Predation Degradation Taxation Starvation I am dreaming of salvation The world is ours I hate humans Make money buy cars I hate humans Get drunk battle scars I hate humans Oh, just watch the stars I hate humans My story's pretty sad I'd love to stay and chat But the world is just a rabbit hat Oppressed women in Chad Why so negative, it is not only mad One finds beauty behind the evil mask Its only one life you had
0
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
Looking for answers
I’d never noticed the Freckles On your Shoulders. But then again, You’d never noticed The scars. Specifically The ones On my chest, And if you had, I’d never Heard Anything about them, Or, “it.” It had been awhile since we’d Last crossed paths, Encounters always Ending in Collision, Connection And corrosion come the first Morning after; but welcomed. You looked good though, And that’s how it’d always Started, But beautiful nonetheless – A world-weathered skin In the form of a twilight tan, The vulnerable smile With a small curl displaying Aggressive sexuality, And a dress, your cloth, A critical juncture, Of both cinema and satori, A’flutter in the wind. “Gift-wraps,” aside, I’d always return to the Form and curve of “You.” Simply you The half I could see Leaving the other Somehow elusive side of You To my imagination and Memory Of prior gallantry. Unspoken words Pave paths between the Tables we now occupy. So to, Acts of predation await, Perched and ready for Gardens, Accepted, the resulted chaos. I wonder, “What’s she thinking?” As I capture a wink And steal the sunlight Bouncing of her Shoulder’s freckles. It’s an intoxication At its finest. Accordingly, I sip my Beer And in echoes mumble, “I want you, want you, Want you.” Luckily, You wanted me too.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
Freckles
President Comb-Over, Quite the despicable guy Got himself elected But the wise folk wonder why. Obama wore a tan suit Conservatives went insane, But this Wimpy lookalike butterball Sports a totally artificial mane. If ****** predation were a soccer game This **** would win The World Cup. If you ignored the news and his tweets You’d think someone made this horror show up. He’s lied and cheated and swindled his way In to more lucrative deals than he deserved Then a large minority of certifiable idiots Elected him so he could to pretend to serve. He took the Oath of Office, quite smugly But that’s where his integrity would end. He set about making deals for himself His trophy wives, his offspring and friends. He made few attempts to cover his tracks, Mostly just shouted blatantly obvious lies By which he was fooling no one intelligent. Just the moronic, the foolish and unwise. He relied on the vagaries of human nature That voters are among the laziest humans And would rather vote for a rascal it seems Than take a chance on an honest new man Or woman, or gay or an experienced soul That could take over the Presidential reins Instead of driving our country straight to hell And making huge profits off the remains. Brent Kincaid 4/23/2019
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
PRESIDENT COMB-OVER
My eyes are glossed, I can not see. I'm just as lost, As a rootless tree. Young strong ambition, Brought down by the evils of humanity. A good life was once my mission, Now I question my sanity. I feel separated from the world. Reality is a fragment of my imagination. What appears straight is curled. Light is just a mere imitation. We seek justice that is always blind. For our laws are rooted in discrimination. Greed serves as the currency of our kind, And profit the sole motivation. To see the corruptions of our society, And sit outside and observe. Brings a cold chill of sobriety, and feeling of atrocity to my nerve. My eyes are glossed, I can not see. I'm just as lost, As a rootless tree. For every beautiful creature, There is complementary predation and blight. For every miraculous feature, There is a parallel of war and spite. You can choose to accept things as they exist, Or be the person that brings in change. But if our current circumstances persist, Our decedents will learn nothing but rage. A wise man once said: "Be the change you want to see." So peace and love I will spread. And live by the same decree. I will use my tools, Given to me by my Creator. To make wise men of fools, And make the common good greater. My eyes are now clear, And I can see. I no longer appear, As a rootless tree.
0
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
A Rootless Tree
UNCHARISMATICALLY, he frowned his displeasure. On his hunting ground, the rough-coated trooper lunged into a human intruder. Predation was a constant chore where extracting food could be hard work in a competitive and heavily armed environment. Feeling lucky he grinned, grinding his fused toothplates, then grabbed and pulverized the passing meal, aware that overgrazing could destroy his future.
0
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 3:04 AM UTC
Hunger Pangs (prose)
at dusk above, clouds scud like loose teeth in upper gums purple-pink in twilight. a deep night, seemingly ' on pause ' as all dust tumbles from bare skin into the naked cause... our minds defunct. our minds undone. our soul's law at the very heart like all gods where the birch and elm keep lean rabbits, and stab at thee with long shadows with ashy knees and bramble rabble; a riotous acreage of predation and escapeful providence far beyond fences and subdivisions where men add by dividing and knit with schisms... where the earth has fangs in the ocean and long nights. your answer is sovereign and hunts foxes with your eyes
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
EPONYMOUS REX
Let me caress your every sinew I do not care if you've been used for many men know the temple of God but few on holy ground have trod her birthplace that is creation yet they treat you with predation a child that sleeps within your womb soon your bed will be their tomb the years of men will surely pass upon your head I count the grass they outnumber thee ten fold to one and yet their bud is still but young our age is like a moth at night that travels towards the sacred light and is extinguished by the flame Will you remember my name? your favoured son Will you forgive the things I've done? or another knot in the tree become
0
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
moth-her
Let me love you Love you tender I'll hold it above you You'll always remember Let me kiss you Lips of fire My burn won't miss you My soul conspires Let me feel you **** sedation Hook and reel you Primal predation
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
Primal Predation
I am so worried about this nation nation of fear and damnation damnation with no salvation salvation from annihilation annihilation is our own creation creation for our own sensation sensation for our own elation elation in our own ovation ovation of our own temptation temptation leads to our fixation fixation of our own formation formation led to accusation accusation of our own predation predation on our conservation conservation wasted by alteration alteration of our ideation ideation that had no complication
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
Loop style with no rules
In the midst of confusion No one seems to notice Time spinning with frustration His hands moving in force Emitted through destruction Made by the walls once Of a heart torn and broken; Opening for a chance Determining the sensation Fluttering in the breeze Of the mist and cool condition Rising in confidence Like an eagle after predation Of prey in a quiet race, Very still and calm it mentions "Even you want love of pure existence."
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
In The Mood For Love
Too-simple eludes as too-complex disturbs the instinct to grasp, clutching at emptiness in trembling fear     Hope says, "there is     always Hope,"         A lure to elongate         the reach, further         overbalancing.               *Hope the crafty wolf               stalks a deer in the glade.* Hope for what? Acquire what? Purchase what? Become what --            that could fulfill the yearning            of the bough for the root?            ...that could elucidate its relentless            aspiration skyward?            Oh, but if -- !                    freeze at the snap of a twig All aflutter at the promise of sweet water against seeking lips      hungry fools chase              Hope for a taste           Into devil wilderness        exposure threatening    surviving by the teeth.    Reduced to mating behavior,          territoriality, predation --               all else forgotten.               *the measured twitch and                  watchful eye fail to outwit                      the cunning wolf in wait* Nowhere we bring ourselves is safe.
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
A Wolf Called Hope
Earthen roads spring alive with berm-gardens, Thistles, and animals’ connive, A country road the blows the dust Off the porch, so that it’s just Us. When the time comes that we arrive to claim the hills over there, Command honey evenings I, the colt, you, the mare Transformed by winds, raw from the pastoral Over-there, It gives to us the boundless open dome Free to graze Free to roam Where we shall know finally what it’s like to be home. The homes, they spring by diving arms Growing strong and respiring clouds Of coaly waste That eat the clarity of austere farms And every life of put-upon Denature, contorted as the victim-fawn, Bloating with guts the hue of oil Strewn by a semi’, in two drawn An image that takes some getting used to. And yet, this is only natural to be one with the aluminum blood That runs in the veins of pale concrete to its beating heart A healthy babe born of predation A community called Animosity, Where a life affirmed is a life denied Though it be a bridge ‘cross chasms to prosperity, Hold it close, For they are deep and one United States wide. The entrails rot on the city face, spelling out “Payment,” on the pavement, the street Maggots reeking, thriving in carrion Smiling as they urge me, of course Carry on, That all will be well in time. My beautiful mare turns from the hills Her eyes now glow cinereal How wretched she stands my side Her heart now a mirror for how mine feels: Drawing on love, the general kind. Such life of hers Such of mine Betoken a passion, in its turn, an ill Then to two ridges, shorn by pure will, And still we congeal two passions to fill it ‘Till a fibrillating heart beats the color Of ****
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Colt and Mare
Earthen roads spring alive with berm-gardens, Thistles, and animals’ connive, A country road the blows the dust Off the porch, so that it’s just Us. When the time comes that we arrive to claim the hills over there, Command honey evenings I, the colt, you, the mare Transformed by winds, raw from the pastoral Over-there, It gives to us the boundless open dome Free to graze Free to roam Where we shall know finally what it’s like to be home. The homes, they spring by diving arms Growing strong and respiring clouds Of coaly waste That eat the clarity of austere farms And every life of put-upon Denature, contorted as the victim-fawn, Bloating with guts the hue of oil Strewn by a semi’, in two drawn An image that takes some getting used to. And yet, this is only natural to be one with the aluminum blood That runs in the veins of pale concrete to its beating heart A healthy babe born of predation A community called Animosity, Where a life affirmed is a life denied Though it be a bridge ‘cross chasms to prosperity, Hold it close, For they are deep and one United States wide. The entrails rot on the city face, spelling out “Payment,” on the pavement, the street Maggots reeking, thriving in carrion Smiling as they urge me, of course Carry on, That all will be well in time. My beautiful mare turns from the hills Her eyes now glow cinereal How wretched she stands my side Her heart now a mirror for how mine feels: Drawing on love, the general kind. Such life of hers Such of mine Betoken a passion, in its turn, an ill Then to two ridges, shorn by pure will, And still we congeal two passions to fill it ‘Till a fibrillating heart beats the color Of ****
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50
To watch the clouds roll on the firmaments plain, Both within, and without, their expression won't wait Observe sun-lit rain falling all in silkened threads, Descending to proclaim 'earths rock be thy dream bed' There water grew static as a new storm of green An epoch of floral tempests only the sky had then seen Inspired perhaps by radiations spectroscopic artistries They desired to wear waves from 495 to 570 What mad dreams the clouds cried out of such passion to be Miraculous life, the nuclear fruit bore from star to tree Matter motioned towards conscious devotion to survive Unconscious becoming conscious predation of others nuclear awareness' to stay just a while consciously alive Electronivorous cardiomagnetics emanating fields of matter fine Introspective auric spheres vibrate to harmonies a'chime Such hearts all a-hum to dimensions they defined And so from a singularity there would be a beautiful mind What flowers that bloom on these electric fields, The art-forms, machinations that matters personal reality yields Richest pollen for the mind is the written fantasy Colourful petals formed by guitar pedals is one beings audio-mis en scene How many depictions for the eyes there are of Venus' divine bodies No greater art form than complementing aspect, force, and frequency Oh First Cloud, sailing horizons where one never sees the limitless sky For there is naught else to compare, no antithesis or edge to help define We find there forms for pleasure, pain, ideals, but not answers to the neu(t)rons darkest, heaviest dreams Flung through a universe without Dao, only gravity and dopamine Matter would politicise, while surfing a rock in a black sea round just one of many long blazing days Their surfing worlds, mirrors of radiation coursing through an existential void-walled maze
0
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
First Cloud
To watch the clouds roll on the firmaments plain, Both within, and without, their expression won't wait Observe sun-lit rain falling all in silkened threads, Descending to proclaim 'earths rock be thy dream bed' There water grew static as a new storm of green An epoch of floral tempests only the sky had then seen Inspired perhaps by radiations spectroscopic artistries They desired to wear waves from 495 to 570 What mad dreams the clouds cried out of such passion to be Miraculous life, the nuclear fruit bore from star to tree Matter motioned towards conscious devotion to survive Unconscious becoming conscious predation of others nuclear awareness' to stay just a while consciously alive Electronivorous cardiomagnetics emanating fields of matter fine Introspective auric spheres vibrate to harmonies a'chime Such hearts all a-hum to dimensions they defined And so from a singularity there would be a beautiful mind What flowers that bloom on these electric fields, The art-forms, machinations that matters personal reality yields Richest pollen for the mind is the written fantasy Colourful petals formed by guitar pedals is one beings audio-mis en scene How many depictions for the eyes there are of Venus' divine bodies No greater art form than complementing aspect, force, and frequency Oh First Cloud, sailing horizons where one never sees the limitless sky For there is naught else to compare, no antithesis or edge to help define We find there forms for pleasure, pain, ideals, but not answers to the neu(t)rons darkest, heaviest dreams Flung through a universe without Dao, only gravity and dopamine Matter would politicise, while surfing a rock in a black sea round just one of many long blazing days Their surfing worlds, mirrors of radiation coursing through an existential void-walled maze
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28
free me from my mind free me from the signs free me from predation, of the sons of perdition free me from the lust that carved Solomon’s bruise I verse away the blues Only to choose, the tune of you ‪enslaved by insecurities‬ believing I’m healed because I cease expectation admitting no role, to the lost soul not only Adam & Eve but Jezebel and Ahab is who we are, and what we’ve become -Ashley R. Wright @wisecurls
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Nahla’s Cry
#*I screamed Hoping someone would be awake To hear the sound of damage If not me I wanted to alert the rest Of the predation I became the victim to Because you were the kind of guy They don’t warn you about You’re the kind they praise The one who gets into the house Uninvited but welcomed Because you know how to make them smile Slowly infesting the heads To get into cold beds Because you enjoy the ********** You enjoy the art of treachery The idea of being good at one thing Feeding on the muffled, “Please” But you don’t stop Not until you fill blood in the crease You’re ruthless, and you’re proud of it*#
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Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 11:40 AM UTC
The Predator in Your Head
I ride on your  thighs  and  I  embrace  you  with  my  both  hands The wind scraps our sweet  deep  love dance  off with the sudden gusts Our  swift  flicks  it  several  times, its tip  just  touching the wet sand. The sky is blue, leaves  of  our  tree are covered with  orange  rust. My hands moved down your  body before reaching your  warm hips The   predation   tremor  in  the  life dance of  thrills  flounder Cradling my body in your arms my  lips are against your lips You make  me shiver as my eyes wandered endlessly over. You take  steps, make the turn  into , become a part of  my dance. I feel  an explosion of dawn light  ,stirrings of herald You gonna take me to a place where  I can be so high in trance It is a  new world in the  grain and  love in your eyes of emerald. You keep real close, lover whispers , I fly to the heavens’ high You run  fingers through my hair,  dance  lips  in orbital circle Another rip in the space time continuum, and a return of fry, Our love makes slain the  deity who is surrounding our crepuscle.
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Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 7:22 AM UTC
Dance of love
*Lantern flies descending from Water Oak canopies , hopeful Thrushes cry for Heavens hidden stellary A seemingly placid pond becomes Molasses , quivers and grows eerie in wavering moonshine , Whippoorwills relay songs of the Creek Indian nighttime Katydids , Field Crickets and Barn Owls fill Magnolia , Wilkerson Mill promenades , Shellcracker disquiet the countryside with topwater explosions of hunger and predation* ...
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Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:58 AM UTC
Nighttime Pond ...
I touch your body with my fingers, Then I embrace you with my hands. The wind of change is a love ringer, Or waves breakin' along the sand. Your wishes creep along my skin like Dancin' in time with sudden gusts. Our kisses grow, leaves o' breath to strike, And fall from human tree in rust. So tender ,your enclos'd universe Like river flows inside my hips My dance o' thrills flounder in reverse Moves touchin' lips against the lips. As cradling part of my fallin' dance A predation tremor you are For my secret place in a high trance From my reality so far An explosion of dawn doesn't mean A present happiness herald 'tis a new world in my grain o' green; Love in your eyes o' emerald. You keep me really so close in pair And I fly to the heavens' high You run your fingers through my long hair, Our feelings are clouds in the sky Dancin' lips in orbital circles A rip-roarin' rain means your kiss, Or a dawn for my last crepuscule. More lovin' you is all I miss.
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Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Dance of Love(III)
One ought admire the noble eagle with cruel beak and vicious talon, whose piercing unrelenting gaze never fails to locate meat; whose feathered blades are shaped to slice through wind of carve a breeze with gliding grace -unless of course one is the hare. You are the hare. Your hare tongue begs your hopping gods for luck and strength of leg plus hiding place.
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Predation
all of these people do they deserve to be exploited? if you knew what i know then it couldn't be avoided in this spider's web is a gold mine of information wrapped in silk they fall below the fangs of predation
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
database
conflicting species test the limits to assert power between themselves
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:20 PM UTC
predation
Out across an open sky, There a chasm could be spied, Its truths and meaning it belied, A beautiful place for me to die. I went abreast my own spirit, Deep down the gorge, a fire lit, It warmed me in the darkened pit, It there calmed my hellish fit, It seems to now have come and pass, The world I knew has turned to glass, Fracturing now, violent and fast, And in this crevice I must now last. Appearing also not like before, As if kept secret in some moldy lore, That where we were in years of yore, We lost all hope, what we’re meant for. No rain has reached me, no condensation, No emotion either, no commiseration, I can’t see further, down on obliteration, I freely remain in abnegation. I would still not hear compliment, I still am unable in sentiment, Thus far, existing in my resent, I have reached paradise, regret, repent. Objectivity in vile domain, I must again from life refrain, Where one does dare themselves ordain, In loneliness, we seek only pain. Seeing clearly to some extent, I leave this world in hateful neglect, I wouldn’t have chosen to be subject To a world where we fail and deem it correct. I am not unlike any other, An abject son, a broken brother, I can’t exist with “one another,” I lay waste to land, destroy “each other,” Lackluster faith and false idolization, Leave what’s at stake to mass predation, Content in squalor and mental ************ Leading to loss of all sensation. The darkness of this pit is calming, I find the peace ever so charming, It acts as shelter, exists as Eden, This garden of gloom, miserable freedom.
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Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
Illusion Of Dream.
Out across an open sky, There a chasm could be spied, Its truths and meaning it belied, A beautiful place for me to die. I went abreast my own spirit, Deep down the gorge, a fire lit, It warmed me in the darkened pit, It there calmed my hellish fit, It seems to now have come and pass, The world I knew has turned to glass, Fracturing now, violent and fast, And in this crevice I must now last. Appearing also not like before, As if kept secret in some moldy lore, That where we were in years of yore, We lost all hope, what we’re meant for. No rain has reached me, no condensation, No emotion either, no commiseration, I can’t see further, down on obliteration, I freely remain in abnegation. I would still not hear compliment, I still am unable in sentiment, Thus far, existing in my resent, I have reached paradise, regret, repent. Objectivity in vile domain, I must again from life refrain, Where one does dare themselves ordain, In loneliness, we seek only pain. Seeing clearly to some extent, I leave this world in hateful neglect, I wouldn’t have chosen to be subject To a world where we fail and deem it correct. I am not unlike any other, An abject son, a broken brother, I can’t exist with “one another,” I lay waste to land, destroy “each other,” Lackluster faith and false idolization, Leave what’s at stake to mass predation, Content in squalor and mental ************ Leading to loss of all sensation. The darkness of this pit is calming, I find the peace ever so charming, It acts as shelter, exists as Eden, This garden of gloom, miserable freedom.
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44
whether it's for fear of starvation- or wild animals and their predation- we understand those instinctual fears- that we've developed through the years- but what of that lurking thing we see- that screams in night like a banshee- what made humans so deathly scared- of a pale sunken vision with its teeth bared- what gave us the instinctual scopophobia- or that sinking feeling of nyctophobia- what creature hounded our predecessors- that we fear slunken things as aggressors-
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Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
Instinctual Fear