"prowlers" poems
Your mind is an abyss sated with emptiness,spore of an ink-jet,
the heart is erupting with repugnant repulsiveness.
Your conscience ravage by your impulsive act.
You indulge in savagery shackled by misery creativity is a mystery .
You diverged from an honest life and now you're perjuring in art you dark-prowlers.
Converged with parasites marauding, Proud-Writers.
Cursed with uncertainty you're embracing lies, in the realm of thieves there's a decaying crown.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
She stood beneath the breaking sky
And held every cloud in her hand.
Sang each a lullaby
And laid them to rest in the sand.
But tide waits for no one.
Tide waits for no one.
All the same, day after day,
The prowlers who preach to the sun,
Keeping some lonely at bay
And blind to all that they've done.
Tide waits for no one.
Tide waits for no one.
Clouds rise round the devil,
As he sits by the deep blue sea.
Cries as the waves lap his feet,
And each tear belongs to me.
Tide waits for no one.
Tide waits for no one.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 7:52 PM UTC
I know where they secretly hide-
these proud two-legged crawlers
(I've been their bane for forty years
fishermen call me 'King of the marine prowlers')
their claws might be sharp
like the brightest knife
the trick is to hold them
by their shells--- no strife
for my nimble, steady and well-trained hands
last week one thousand I caught--no surprise
every restaurant in town courted my favour
last year I won 'The Village Best Crab-man Prize'
six hundred books on this shining creature
I have read. I have written a book 'Understanding the Crab'
word got round and there are a thousand crab-people by the sea now
but they return home by sunset and all that they say is 'The day is crap!'
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
Thrown into wildness
I was thrown into wildness...
Law of the jungle runs deep in ones veins
food chain topped by vicious prowlers
if blood keeps running cold
murderous minds grow more bold
predators take pride in their
hunter's prowess.
Thrown into wildness
I was thrown into wildness.
Where fights in the dead of night
and greedy hands with high demands
are everyday life
all part of ulterior motives
and rotten plans.
Where pretentious intentions
are the cost of survival
and no saints nor prophets
are offered revival.
It's hard to stay calm...
It's hard to stay calm
when wrath's laid on the tip
of your palms.
Gluttonous man eaters drool
in the depths of the concrete jungle
over lustful people
whilst maintaining an iron ******
rule.
Thrown into-
The sad reality of living day to day
and sloth's not tolerated
unless you've royal blood
survival instincts often tempt
a few to stray
their ways forgotten rest
beneath the murky mud.
In the end, envy runs errands
against the common folk
for in the jungle defenceless insects
have no place in the grander plan
or any rights to live humble.
It's a vicious cycle that takes
its toll
being thrown into modern wildness
and when the sun goes down
and follows darkness,
the world is then devoid from
kindness,
and humanity is swallowed whole.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
Moonlit concrete canyons echo with howls.
Signal midnight terror! Packs are on the prowl!
Demonic toothy grins with lunar glow aglint
suggest savage passions with more than a hint.
Cowering sheep paralyzed with fright
look to wary shepherds on guard through the night.
Ravenous rovers mate fang to fleece,
predatory prowlers drawn by plaintive bleats.
Lobos fear no shepherds’ dogs nor bullets from their guns,
they only fear the cage, wolves were born to run.
Death may be their destiny but living is the chase.
They’ll run the neon jungle ‘til they’re killed or catch a case.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
Her eyes fold gently
as she takes bits of honeycrisp
from my fingertips -
the first from the tree,
still hard, ****
warm in the thick after rain,
hinting at cinnamon.
Her usual distractions,
squirrel on wire,
bobbing heads of neighbor girls
on trampolines,
lifting reigns of monarchs
and viceroys, mourning cloaks,
slamming doors,
jumbled voices beyond the fence,
bright musks of night prowlers
in the grass,
all ceased to beguile.
As if desirous of desire,
she stiffened at the first crack
of my teeth through the flesh
of this first apple,
then bounded across the lawn
and sat before me,
not as a beggar may,
but as an adherent
to the rites of giving.
Bit by bit,
taking each with neither lurching forth
nor brushing my fingers with her teeth,
her velvet black ears lain back,
her brown eyes reduced
to sweet slices of rapture,
she chews each in its time,
savoring each in its time,
not as a dog may,
but as a disciple
to Autumn's way
of giving.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 1:09 PM UTC
when the night is a fleeting shadow
the sky a highest blue
your sleep is a blink you missed
all the night prowlers hide
around the corners of your dreams
and the wolves in sheep's clothing
walk in plain sight down the street
a smile hiding the intentions of their heart
and a growl just beneath their teeth.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
The Stalkers
Under the celestial awning
There are degrees of darkness
Stygian and silky night - blue
Secret light seeps out of hurts
Soon absorbed by night's hue
By the quay lovers watch light
Commit suicide in dark waters
Only the sleepless see this and
Night prowlers with knives
Killing someone with passion
And bath in blood at midnight
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
Be kind
But stay witty,
For there are always
Prowlers in between.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Manner of ingress yet inexplicable!
They chew interminably, greedily.
They nibble at anything-
Pieces of furniture, carpet, metal.
Even my jungle boots.
They lick voraciously, noisily.
They mop clean spoons, plates
Pots of soup then disappear with the meat.
Even my tooth brush!
Creepy crawly prowlers!
My mini library of late ,
Now their relished adventure;
My literature, a potpourri
Of **** saliva, and stale spill.
Perhaps they too read.
From a safe crevice of my privacy,
They peer at me, at my helplessness
At my restlessness, mocking my anguish.
Smelly jumpy nocturnal mice!
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 4:37 AM UTC
Some stories are more true than others
This may be one of them
Or it may be another
Some bend the line
Between fiction and fact
I detract……
Believe it or not,
Back before the world began
Before you were you
And I was me
We created the world
The way
We wanted it to be
So don’t be so proud of all your degrees
Because you created you
The way I wanted you to be
You decided where you would live
What you would do
All the experiences you would go through
I’d tell you this is a fable
And that’s one reality
If you were only able
To understand
You’re under an umbrella
Of insanity
Or could that be me
Fear not, Sir Lancelot
Your truth lancer
Is just a fantasy dancer
She’s never coming for you
Is that what you want her to do
You should never believe a fantasy dancer
Did you ever hear the riddle
Or was it a conundrum
About the two brothers
One always told the truth
And one always told a lie
How to tell the difference
It really wasn’t necessary
I’ll tell you why
hmmm
I forget the point I was going to make
Something about what is true
And what is fake
Yes, I think that was it.
So while you were planning
To do everything right
I was escaping into the night
The streets were lit in incandescent light
Nocturnal prowlers of the twilight
We too were hoping to get it right
Living under the shroud of night
Rising as the sun is setting
Bed wetting
Corset letting
Underground abetting
Courter’s of midnight insights
But in the end
Even the darkness was so bright
One gets tired of the artificiality
Self-imposed marginality
And decides to come into the light.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC