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SLIT

Submitted by Esker on Thu, 2012-03-29 02:18

vestige vernacular
theres an itch smouldering
like a tricky ditch number
etched on the sketch
the nicotine sucked
fingers

growl "Lifes a bitch"

your a packet rack
stitched in jacked up
couture

leg slink climb from
heels to help get you
through the weathers
tell me your name
"You can call me Heather"

Boot Heel King walks on
with the flame of neon
flickering in slits

Dragon

Submitted by China Blue on Wed, 2012-03-28 19:47

Talons dripping fresh blood from the kill
Flesh left torn and ragged
words have talons , claws that, rend and tear
at gentle souls
Never to be forgiven
Never to be forgotten

Fire breathing dragon that you are
,burning all that defy you
Your day is coming
with vengeance overflowing

No more the the soft,female lass
Trading delicate outer shell
for a cover of iron and steel

Brandishing a sword
blood in the eyes
and an anger unleashed
upon the dragon

From Hell (eddy styx) {rhyming} Re-worked (again)

Submitted by Candlewitch on Wed, 2012-03-28 11:09

From Hell

From Hell 'twas told
the beast he came
with gaping jaw
and eye of flame

to virgins drawn
his hunger whet
on virtue fed
his course was set

a whore or two
for tastings' sake
a course before
his thirst to slake

in alleys dark
sharp blade was thrust
dank blood on shiv
as stark as rust

in passion heightened
hid by night
wide flung windows
his delight

untouched woman
in repose
deep in sleep
a blushing rose

Where are you father?

Submitted by Natural_Mystic on Wed, 2012-03-28 05:11

Where are you father?
Why have you left, us?
Your sons,
your daughters
Abandoned
Left to rot
Left for dead in this filthy world
Left to sleep with the rats and maggots
To live in this shit
To dream of a light that will never come
No. brighter day
No. better tomorrow.
To be fed to the rapists and murders
The alcoholics the drug pushers
The diseased scum that walk the earth
The child molesters,
Fake prophets and war mongers.
Where are you God?
Where were you through the genocides

Wait for me

Submitted by loved on Wed, 2012-03-28 00:28

Wait for me

Wait for me
around the edge of time
the edge of time
when I am called

hold my hands in yours.
press them to show your love
come to my arms
just for a while,
as time slips by
below my feet
in a puff of smoke

I’m about to go
over the cliff
hold me tight
just once more,

for then who knows for sure
whether I shall be anymore
your love is all I sought
these years gone by
how time did fly
none can say

Cat-like on the prowl

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Tue, 2012-03-27 18:01

Her assignment was easy,
almost drooling with the thought of
the delectable Simon.
In London, the train stations
record human senses, one just
has to be on the prowl, cat-like
on her jaguar paws.

He nearly missed the train this morning,
and everything changed for a few minutes,
Can you imagine the silence of suspended
animation? With a little help, he did catch
the 8 a.m. just
as he does every week day.
She would sit
next to him, soaking in his aura. Inhaling
him in her love.

SLABS OF EXISTENCE

Submitted by Nordic cloud on Tue, 2012-03-27 16:02

SLABS OF EXISTENCE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th March 2012.

Slabs of existence, 
we move them, caress them, 
climb them, 
they are with us 
wherever we go, 

inescapable boulders of awareness, 
'so beautiful, (should I take out these two lines of value judgement?) 
so ugly,' 
so all embracing, 
so much, our senses 
gathered in a bundle 
of being;

we see out of eyes,
mirrored, 
like the facets of a stone, 
its gems, 
some hidden inside the rock, 

Magic Trick

Submitted by AnnaNJ on Tue, 2012-03-27 14:33

You are dissolving

Before my eyes

Like a magic trick

that has gone horribly wrong

Soon you will have disappeared

Into the open atmosphere

And I’ll be left standing alone

In front of the empty space

Where you used to be

Days like that......

Submitted by Willy on Tue, 2012-03-27 08:34

Like its one of those days; it’s one of those things;
All mean the same to you:
There is an unseen weight yet still so real
weighing down upon you dampening your spirit
stifling your growth
It’s like you are suspended in mid-air; you are in stasis
With some strange being at your rudder;
You are at its mercy: turned, spun, rolled, rotated, pulled, pushed
your activities are futile but all you feel like doing is nothing
your environment have become this barren

Whispers and bone

Submitted by Cloudthings on Tue, 2012-03-27 07:20

There are hardwood pews at the end of the path
There are beetles that shimmer and shine
But they sit there so humbly as if they were safe
Is it all down to chance, their survival, and mine?

I used to howl for the moon, in the wind, in the storm
And sit on my own by the lake
I used to sing for the sound and the comfort
Thinking all that I had could be anyone’s take

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