24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Burning…
I Want You Now
Like I needed you then…
Fire races between us
When we are skin to skin..
So deep inside me
I yearn in pain…
Only you can fill me
Make me whole again…
So far away
So close to my heart…
How can I live
With us so far apart?
Abundance of flesh, teetering on a stuporous step,
Carried dutifully and on a drunkards resolve,
Resigning himself, a true wretch of the unkept,
Her body not to be touched or involved!
Sacrificial, our desirous fool will endure my scorn,
I glare on, anticipating my friends to intercept,
Realisation dawns, as his forearm is torn,
Tattered flesh screaming with crimson effect!
Restless meat, dragged to this vestibule of violence’s floor,
Fangs dispense their intended and evolutionary design,
Shielding his face, with haemorrhaging appendage, is this disgusting boar,
His pathetic squawking cut short and rendered benign!
The offerings complexion changing, as mandible is ripped from head,
I match his bleating, as I find my voice enduring a lycanthropic illusion,
A cry soon answered, as my Valkyrie advances, howling with a Banshee’s dread,
Observing the feast, content in our current spree, gracious of our evolution!
Her eyes hypnotic,
My own absorbing a truth,
Future dystopic
Tired -A Tanka Poem
By: LuvMiFreely
Fighting thoughts of sleep
My eyes are getting heavy
Trying to push through
I’m struggling to keep up
But I refuse to give up
Mr Malcom, the Vervet monkey,
unlike those other scoundrels,
prefers a sedate walk along the ground,
instead of wild branch flounders.
When the troop attack the house,
and loot the poor man’s kitchen,
Malcolm will be sampling wine and cheese,
and perhaps a fine roasted pigeon.
For Mr Malcom is a gentle-monkey,
He avers the fighting and screeching.
Though indulging his philosophical bent,
His peers avoid the sanctimonious preaching.
Hour going by
Another level
Defeat the monster
Save the princess
Get a coin
Defeated
Try Again
You Win
Darkness growing around
Monsters coming into the corners
I feel something stare
I keep light on the whole night
Golden syrup, sugar and oats,
A perfect recipe for sticky fingers.
Press the gooey mix onto a tray,
And bake until a warm scent lingers.
Finger by finger,
toe by toe,
I am getting away
from you.
I am getting away
from the lazy snake
called your vehicle traffic
filling roads in dormant states.
I am getting away
from nine to fives
that work like five to elevens
I am getting away
from the thick population
the noise and the rush
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After all parts of me have left,
I find my whole self still in you.
What in poetry’s name are you?
his mind
drools over a deep
conversation full
of meaning and
significance.
Life is always what you imagine it to be
holding no more space
than what you dream
or the lack of
You are truly alone in this
even with the assistance
of relationships