"slays" poems
Pretty girls don't cry
Guess with all the makeup how could I
Ladies don't drink
Guess with all my pain ill just Take your man
Sober
Cuz i'm pretty right?
Stereotypical Diva, She too quiet
Guess she stuck up
She's gotta be a *** why she always lucks up?
Sugar baby,Slays
Waist training made her that way
The world is insecure
Lots of pain that we endure
reflecting judgment on others, to forget our demonic flaws
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
Ruler of beauty
Grace as a dove
Thy name Aphrodite
Goddess of love
Power to sway
Thy lustful mind
Ability to lure
Man of every kind
Appealing charm
Equal summers rose
Thou pleasant aroma
Could make all man doze
****** attraction
Alludes all thy wants
Goddess so elegant
Created thy flaunts
One defect slays
Aphrodite soul within
Profound jealousy for
Psyche thy alleged twin
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
She lies awake,
Just thinking of him.
As her heart aches,
As she imagines his grin.
She looks forward to seeing that bright smile,
Like it's been forever in a day.
She likes that handsome style,
That he slays in every way.
-Lenaaa
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
"Slay the beast! Salty, sassy and saucy."
-Lindsay the only person who slays better than me
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Skyrim, Land for Nords
Filled with Mead and Honningbrew
Singing with blood and cords
Disagreeing to their Divines and Lords
But raging with war and Talos Blessed
Destroying the empire, liberating Skyrim
Once Again
But a nightmare appears
"DRAGONS! DRAGONS!" a filthy Nord say
Running away pityfully as the Myths slays
A man stays
A nordic lad
Tough like Talos
***** as a rag
The tongue of the ancients
Shouting, stealing the souls of the Myths
It's the Dragonborn
It's back
Since centuries
And has came
To Unlegend the Myths
Once Again
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
The pick
All the stress that an orange has caused is painful.
It is painful for the tree from which it came.
Snatched away with promises of sweetness.
A tree mostly green, engulfing
Small speckles of that deceptive orange.
It was such a bright colour – high hopes!
Handpicked by a man only looking for the best,
Choosing poorly not for the first time.
The green leaves frantically try to reclaim what’s theirs.
Branch after branch reaching out, trying to uproot him.
Close, so close. But they are a sea apart,
At least an apple has a core, a heart.
The peel
Now it is pilfered, the painful process begins,
Never quite ending: disappointment beckons.
To try and taste these orange juices
You soldiers must bear the burden.
Each soldier, a finger digging themselves
Into the tough stressful shell.
Fingernails stained with orange blood,
Eyes blinded by the same tangy juices.
It never slips off in one go
Like a roomy balaclava,
But crumbles like the remnants of a bombing.
Brick by brick, orange by orange it crumbles.
Now it is finally undone
But neither tree nor man has won.
The preparation
The crust collapsed, but now
It is time to untangle the web the mantle holds.
First, a division – the separation of brothers
Who served side by side at birth.
Dissected by these soldiers
Acting as a bomb squad,
Searching for those hidden pips.
Found, but not without casualties –
Sticky fingers with no taps in sight.
Once removed the web is untangled.
Tired, he hopes that the stress will swiftly end
Unaware that the sweetness was just pretend.
The pain
Finally the moment has arrived
And illogical ceremonies commence.
I fear the celebration is far too soon,
For as white touches orange and tries
So desperately to unite,
The tartly taste slays the poor man’s buds:
Igniting like petrol on his burning tongue.
He wishes he could return that orange
To the green tree to which it belongs,
To return a bullet-sprayed windscreen is not an option.
The orange, once bitten, enjoys its trance
Latching on to those pained tingling taste buds.
His orange, a disaster to undress:
Bad taste – a foolish price for such a mess.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
The spider Queen, aloofly vain!
She rules a silent ruthless reign,
with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain
that damp the depths of her demesne.
.
.
.
A spider spins, with nimble feet,
a sticky web of grim deceit
that drapes the corners, dark, discreet,
in catacombs of her retreat.
Her jointed legs (in number, eight)
traverse the threads with stilted gait,
but often more she'll lie in wait
within the hub of her estate.
Shy spiders live their lives alone
ensconced within a silky throne;
unless a transient guest comes flown,
their lives bide empty, monotone.
.
.
Well, now and then, a sullen breeze
may twitch the toils, begin to tease –
yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas,
so patience's bid at times like these.
But then again, when stars ignite,
may maunder by a gnat, by night,
be taught a dance, a writhing rite,
within a lace of death, wrapped tight.
Sometimes a spider's in the mood
and waits awhile, whilst being wooed –
and then, to later feed her brood,
the widow slays her mate for food.
In time a spider dies, 'tis true,
bequeathing but a residue
entwined, devoid of retinue,
in fibers decked in silver dew.
.
.
.
One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT –
to feed and make the spider fat?
Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that
within a mindless habitat.
.
.
"Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire,
“at the heart of MAN's desire.
To which goals should WE aspire
reaching high and reaching higher?"
We've, through the ages, left the mire,
trundling wheels and taming fire,
doing deeds that must inspire,
nursing needy, calming crier, …
Such things as these, most may admire:
- placid dove and war defier
(some are bolder, some are shyer)
- patience (mess-up mollifier);
- humankind (Life's justifier)
- charity (charmed self-denier)
- tolerance (proud pacifier )
- love of Life (folk unifier).
What more could we, as flesh, require?
Needless kneeling neath the spire?
Childish chanting in the choir?
Preaching hell's impending pyre?
No, Death's the only rectifier,
comes the instant we expire,
nothing after, sentience prior.
So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
"...Tell me, for Love's sake, what is that flame which burns in my heart and devours my strength and dissolves my will? What are those hidden soft and rough hands that grasp any soul; what is that wine mixed of bitter joy and sweet pain that suffuses my heart? What are those wings that hover over my pillow in the silence of Night, and keep me awake,watching no one knows what? What is the invisible thing I stare at, the incomprehensible thing that I ponder, the feeling that cannot be sensed? In my sights is a grief more beautiful than the echo of laughter and more rapturous than joy. Why do I surrender myself to an unknown power that slays me and revives me until Dawn rises and fills my chamber with its light? Phantoms of wakefulness tremble between my seared eyelids, and shadows of dreams hover over my stony bed. What is that which we call Love? Tell me, what is that secret hidden within the ages yet which permeates all consciousness? What is this consciousness that is at once origin and result of everything? What is this vigil that fashions from Life and Death a dream, stranger than Life and deeper than Death? Tell me, friends, is there one among you who would not awake from the slumber of Life if love touched his soul with its fingertip?"
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
I am the hero who remains unsung,
The brilliant, the innocent, the beautiful young.
The resilient youth who is ever strong,
Who never gives up and always forges on.
Who doesn’t rest her weary bones,
But struggles through life ever alone,
She rescues the weak, and slays her foes,
And onward on her journey the lonely knight goes.
From town to town, to fight and war,
Images of death never seen before,
Each death she causes has its cost,
And soon her brilliance and innocence are lost.
She takes on the dragon, the wizard and witch,
And battles on without a hitch,
But with each step her youth is left behind,
With each ticking clock she hears the passage of time.
One step further, one battle more,
To help the weak and save the poor,
To rescue the damsel and aid the king,
And never of the hero do the people sing.
Never is she thanked for all she’s done,
Never do they recognise that she’s the one,
Who kept them alive and kept them safe,
Never do they think that she may need some space.
She’s seen so much evil; she’s seen so much pain,
‘Is there any happiness in life to gain?
Is there sun beyond the cloud?’
The lonely knight asked aloud.
She could see that darkness lay in front,
And that if there was trouble she would bear the brunt,
No love was waiting for her, no warming home,
She was the knight, she travelled alone.
Finally she opened her eyes,
To the truth that lay beyond the lies,
To the despair, and death of this barren land,
And no longer could she bear stand.
The knight has fallen to the ground,
Lying face down westward bound,
She fell before she saw the light,
The lost, the lonely, the Fallen knight.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
Beneath the fair blue face of Heaven, harp
In hand, a shepherd flats an A that's sharp.
He plucks and tunes and finds the perfect pitch
And plays a harmony exceeding rich.
The afternoon is hot, and all the sheep
Are full of grass and falling fast asleep.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
While drowsy songbirds neither sing nor fly.
Even the shiny fish in waters cool
Nap in the cooler shadows in the pool.
Save for the sound of rills that gently spill,
All things are silent. Everything is still.
So too a watchful lion keeping eyes
Upon a ewe lamb dozing where she lies.
As still as stone he stalks his sleepy prey:
He's waited patiently the livelong day.
And now the time has come to work his plan,
While most at ease is bird and beast and man.
He takes the first small steps in his approach,
Then breaks into a run and makes the poach.
Bewildered sheep in panic loudly bleat—
Asleep to wide awake in one heartbeat!
The shepherd's senses rush, and running down
The brute, he smites the beast upon his crown.
Dazed and confused, the lion drops the lamb
That lives but by the grace of Him, I AM.
The shepherd grabs the lion's beard, and, hair
In hand, he slays him (as he'll slay a bear.)
Returning safe the lamb unto the flock,
The shepherd goes and stands upon a rock.
He lifts his hands to God, and, singing psalms
Of praise, he gives the LORD his weather'd palms.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
As stars begin to twinkle in the sky.
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 1:08 PM UTC
*This thing, all things devours; Birds, beasts, flowers
Gnaws iron, bites steel
Grinds hard stones to meal
Slays kings, ruins towns
And beats high mountains down.*
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
i search, i look
for sublime touch,
of meaning in
the dirt and dust.
a shred, a crack,
a false perception,
scrying clues of misdirection:
more to life,
greater meaning,
imagination quelling reason.
yet, as always, in conclusion,
symmetry
it slays delusion.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near,
Shadow and sunlight are the same,
The vanished gods to me appear,
And one to me are shame and fame.
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
2.6k
If I could only open you up and reach inside.
I wish I could give you my passion.
I wonder what the look on your face would be, if you knew
If you knew what it feels like to love someone like I love you.
I think that look would **** me.
The grief that you hadn't felt it before,
The joy that you had it finally,
The fear that life would take it from you.
Your tears burn me.
They hurt in a way that can't find words to live within.
It is a concept that speech only talks around.
I want to give you the world.
I want to show you that you are not a mirror,
Flat and soulless unless somebody is looking.
You are an ocean,
Deep and dark and beautiful, and full.
You make me want to create something lovely and devote it to you,
Simply to let you know that you inspire such things.
You make me want to be what you see me as,
Be better, be stronger, be wiser
For you.
So that you may finally have something fair come to you in this life.
What a sad joke, that you get me as your makeshift savior.
I know the perfect things to say,
The very strings to tug to make you fall apart,
Unravel like a lovely tapestry ruined.
It slays me to do it, to hurt you to heal you.
I know just how to break you down and do it like it's an accident,
Because how could I explain to your trusting heart
That to save it I must bleed it out like this?
But the thing is, you can wreck me too,
You beautiful thing,
Fragile and raw,
You can speak the simplest words and my soul...
It tears itself to bits.
And I think, “Oh god, please don't tell me.
Don't rip my heart out.
Don't be hurt like you are.
Oh, if I could pause you now and never have to know!
It would be as if I didn't already see how fractured you are inside.
I could pretend you're not, I could still save you in my mind...”
But there it is, cold and hard in type.
And I am lost.
And I want to die in the worst way,
To slit my wrists because I exist in the same world that he does,
And I am so revolted that I could do it.
For a moment I really could.
Oh, and you can never know this, never.
Because I am your savior,
Your lion,
Your super hero.
And you hurt so much, and I die every time.
But I have to be there for you,
Up in lights.
As if I know what I'm doing.
As if I can bring justice.
As if I can erase cruelty.
As if I am not afraid, not just shaking with revulsion
That this world is such a place as it is.
I am your super hero, darling,
And I can't breathe.
I can’t save you,
And it will **** me.
How do you exist? How do you yet live?
How is it that you are this whole and so exquisite?
I want to be your hero,
God, I want to be perfect at it.
I want to be your hero.
Because in the end,
Until the end,
You are mine.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
The Scarlet Bird, it calls to me,
The Scarlet Bird, I try to flee.
The Scarlet Bird, it wants me dead,
The Scarlet Bird, it's in my head.
The Scarlet Bird, it soars above,
The Scarlet Bird slays Hope and Love.
The Scarlet Bird, it's Fear and Hate,
The Scarlet Bird, it's Tears and Fate.
The Scarlet Bird, it's Cheats and Lies,
The Scarlet Bird, Earth slowly dies.
The Scarlet Bird, it's War and ****
The Scarlet Bird, there's no escape.
The Scarlet Bird, we cannot hide,
The Scarlet Bird, it's now inside.
The Scarlet Bird, its eyes ablaze,
The Scarlet Bird, the End of days.
The Scarlet Bird, it marks our Doom,
The Scarlet Bird, our Scarlet Tomb.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 7:09 PM UTC
Under the mountain
The dragon does sleep
His silver and gold
Under guard does he keep
Make haste, flee away
From his fiery breath
For his eyes they see far
And his claws they bring death
He flies through the sky
With a vengeance filled mind
An anger undulled
And unwearied by time
His enemies burn
From the flames of his tongue
He slays one and all
From the old to the young
And once he is sated
He slumbers once more
And pray ne'er again
Will we hear his great roar
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
Why must my lips speak
A melody my fingers can play
Must I weaken your ear
When I can weaken your knees?
Looks and sounds are nice
But feelings are beter
Why stumble over three words
When I can double your pleasure with
The featherlight touch of my fingertips
Words are so mundane
I would rather profane a moment with the
Unyeilding touch, the gift
Of all I have and have to give
To live with you wrapped, no curled
(my fingers, your toes),
No, gripping my fingers
Gasping the same way you did
When you were first given life
And given again
To arch and release, to obscene
The silence with the tell tale
Whimpering of two and too
Pleasurable
If there were ever such a thing.
I want to bring you to the edge
And hold you there, begging with
Your eyes, your lips, for sweet release
For your hands
To search for comforting firmness
For something to hold
All the while, inexorable circles
Of a lover’s touch, driving the point
Home like words cannot
Your lips and body making an ‘O’
I don’t have to say it, not now
Not that it would register,
I can give it
You can feel it
This is spiritual, this is everything
The apex of physiology, biology,
Of romance
Happiness brought in ways we could only
Previously imagine
Base instincts take over
(yet still only third)
Curling, my fingers, your toes
And it’s so intense, so beautiful
The three words seem so childish
So understated
Compared to this moment
Calling for a deity a thousand times
What else brings such passion?
Certainly not words, sweet as they can be
And it’s everything, Anything
I feel for you and you for me
In one moment
One moment
One moment
Slays three words
They’re one and the same
I won’t say it, not with my lips
(maybe later)
But you cannot deny the power of
The feelings
And what we do and have done
And will do
A small part of us
But for a moment, everything
Slayer of words
Crumbler of walls
Screams and moans
Pants and breaths, never to be found
Today two years, and a hundred and six days
All in one moment
Tomorrow should you so choose
One hundred and seven
The words can’t hold it all
Can’t hold what I feel for you
But two fingers
And many heartbeats can
It’s a gift.
It’s everything I have for you
And I’m giving it to you
For a moment, thirty seconds
However long it takes
For the breaths and the heartbeat
And the moans to rise to a ******
And gradually fall
Reveling in the moment, the Love
We’re not fools
No matter what they call it.
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
An annoyance generator is my mind,
Unjust in its creation. Lack of sleep,
Deviation, stokes the flames
And gesticulations.
My mind, pushed back
Espies the show, as
Mouth bites back the bile.
Calcified my mask does grow
Inflection states my ire.
I see the change
On targets face, as
Fury hits its mark.
Yet at my core
I query why, I
Don't reign in the fire.
Consumed with wrath,
Mind takes back seat,
Puppet slays the master,
How can I, who claims the throne
Escape from Pandemonium?
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Got a message from my half
Mrs. Hypochondriac
Moody right, moody right
Tell your CC
Let everyone know
Beatnik **** beatnik ****
Listen to that beaten sound
Keeps me running, keeps the engines hummin'
Listen to that beating sound
Tic Tac Tic Tac
Got a lookout for King Me
Watch your Q's and watch your P's
Dot your eyes and cross your tease
You're gonna see what you still won't believe
Birth your rumors of immortality
Pound them 'til I can't help but agree
But when the truth slays the light
Don't blame me
King Me King Me King Me King Me
I'm the King, I'm the King, I'm the King, I'm the King
Keep your filthy black stained hands off of my crown
Take up your own bleeding cross and ride it to town
I'm the King
Too good for my own good and don't give a fu ck
Hatching plans to freak out the Man
Got a meanness in me that I don't understand
A lie for a dollar, a life for a dime
There's a well, a deep, deep well I fell
Into once
Where in the tumbling I found
The true hidden meaning of falling down
The treasure at the bottom wasn't worth the minute
It took to get there
King Mad, King Mad, King Mad, King Mad
These songs for a King
King You and King Me
King Kong's a Ding ****
Monkey Tales
Banana on a stick
Dipped in black chocolate
Rancid and arcane
Read in, read in
The main character wears a black tunic
His queen is the one with the brain
Better half, better half she tells him
It's best you stay quiet you'll give it away
You've done enough damage for one other day
What's done is done
Nothing but another bridge to burn
Another corner to turn
She says
You understand it less than I
And your understanding is void and dry
Quiet now, my loveless love
My misunderstood drug
My salt melted slug
Quiet now, before people believe
In the nonsense you write, the ******** they read
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
While most are counting sheep at night
When trying to go to sleep
The poet is searching for words to write
So the little lambs won't weep
The paper becomes the poet's sleeve
As he wipes his pain away
His pen becomes the poet's sword
To keep the wolves at bay
The sheep that cause our eyes to close
Must always be protected
For wolves can sneak into our dreams
Sometimes undetected
The poet writes of the sheep we count
While staring at the clock
Writing words to stop the wolves
From picking off the flock
So when you start to close your eyes
And count the sheep tonight
Remember the poet who slays the wolves
With the words that he will write
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
He's that guy that slays you,
always charming, ready &
eager to lend a helping hand,
a garish smile tucked in his hip pocket --
he's your friendly next door neighbor,
the quintessential serial killer
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
She dances like a diamond in the wind
And sings like a symphony of birds
She knows the ways of Magick
And how to Summon Shadows
with her words
Her blades are like a part of every limb they are attached to
A Natural-Born Performer
with Unusual Tattoos
In every town, she is found
Enchanting
The Raven-Haired Metal Maiden
Wilder Lore is always born all around her
But no matter where she goes, she never stays long
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
The Song and the Dance & the Smile of Doom
A Jester of Death & a Friend of the Tomb
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
Her Kiss of Steel, most deadly
As Swift and Silent as she is Serene
Seductive & Bloodthirsty
She Slays with Grace like a poison dream
One look can **** you faster than a dagger to the throat
But she prefers to Wage her Wars through the Sorcery of Notes
In every town, she is found
Enchanting
The Raven-Haired Metal Maiden
Wilder Lore is always born all around her
But no matter where she goes, she never stays long
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
The Song and the Dance & the Smile of Doom
A Jester of Death & a Friend of the Tomb
Silver Girl in the Circus of the Moon
Red is the Color
Of the Lust in Her Eyes
Artistic Brilliance
In taking Wicked Lives
Young & Old
Lowborn or High
Of All who might Fight
None will Survive
One look can **** you faster
Than a thousand burning arrows
One song will make you hers
For better or for worse
One dance can mean disaster
Or a majestic miracle
She can be a Blessing
And she can be the Curse
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 3:13 AM UTC
Peculiar Spring
Seeps through my skin
Invades my soul
And garrotes me within
Unhurried strangulation
My spirit weakens
A rush of horror
At the sight of the Warden
He's cloaked in death
Speaks with decaying breath
"It's all foredoomed
I'm threading this path"
Limbs frozen stiff
Hasten, flee … if
Death travels swiftly
Radiating a putrid whiff
A nipping hoarfrost
Spring slays those embossed
Come Summer, come
Before I completely exhaust
This peculiar Spring
Its nature - bristling
Beneath a flaccid quiescence
I'm being garroted within
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes
a forests breath
with death ripe
just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.
no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize
malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites
just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.
spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite
caught then boxed
with no air to bite
lost and left,
kept for the nights
in transparent red
herein painted quiet
just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.
in a stranger's head
with debt of dice
where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise
seven solemn days
that'll never come twice
mourning for prey
by a mornings pride
just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise
if it wasn't for today.
kissed by the fire
shut with wire
no word nor desire
and made in ice
broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white
doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life
just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.
where beauty slays
and inferno hides
dante's meal
and a mountains might
where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet
melting the stones
and people alike
just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.
whence scars bleed
opened far wide
and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright
where words fail
to tell and describe
rotten and stale
fighting the lights
just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes
a forest's breath
with death ripe
just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
I am standing on fire
Latterly .... Dust
On the tinny, thin string of hope..
But here you relate me
To the past?
And My silence ..
Are the words of my heart
Wanting you to know
When patience slays love
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC