Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
||||
Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:13:14 AEST | ||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
Array
(
[sid] => 117626
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Scavengers
[time] => 2006-04-03 14:03:26
[hometext] => Those who are mentally ill frequently push the 'beast' within those who love them.******
[bodytext] => Cruising in the ooze of a vapid mind, vultures peck, all bodies wreck, for a scavengers’ meal that lacks appeal. Bald, hungry, no affection the dead lack protection. No sense of direction, scent detection-- decay—a feast for a beast who dwells deep within with a caravan. Scrawny, wanting only to devour, destroy all. They do. Oozing in raw hide, birds tend to slip, slide (lack the decency to hide) meat, rank, muscles turned, ne’er fills up—wants more. Their claws rake in each carcass, digs for morsels in the mess. Slurp the dry belly, pierce the heart, jelly. Vultures never nurture but teach their off-spring torture. Bald, hungry, no affection the dead lack protection. Sluicing in the jam of a brain half-ham, a vulture drools in the fool. Dry joints, connections, are his confections. Scrawny, wanting only to devour, destroy all. They do. A human crone to destruction is prone within their hearts, in their minds. All beasts feed on body, mind … e’en their kind. Their claws rake in each carcass, digs for morsels in the mess. Sluicing in marrow they slurp tomorrow, sip, suck, from the loins, muck. Buzzards circle … dead eyes pluck, vultures tuck into a ball and curl up knowing they’ve run out of luck! www.corona-ebooks.com (go to forum--SillySal's Ramblings) [comments] => 1 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 74 [informant] => sillysal [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => surreal )
|