The murmurs in the wind named me a whore
According to those prayers i never wished for more
Than to be touched by the purest
And held like fine wine
All In the hands of a caliber
I held that knife like i held you darling
And when you told me all i am is ing boring
I threw the knife straight between your eyes
Hoping you wouldn't notice the hole in my mourning
And i told you death was better mercy
In the hands of a caliber
No one can hurt me
So i slashed off my hair
And killed all my friends
Hoping i'd never again find a caliber in my hands
Woah for this winter
Mourn for this winter
Up here in the mountains
No one can hurt you
Expect for the snake
That hides in the hole
With the same name
Same voice, and same clothes
And it hisses at you
To reconcile
All in the hands of a caliber
winter
lightning slashed her Heart
tears falling, feet cold crying …
thunder roars laughter
haiku contest
sponsor : Tania Kitchin
submission: 26/5/25
mango
sun kissed blessed fell
tough smooth skin blade slashed, dripping ~
rip hair juicy sweet
Like a vampire wakes in the darkness
so awakens the old GOP
For they hunger to feed on the taxes
then like rodents, they scatter and flee
They ignore and avoid all their voters
who can never provide what they need
Like the donors who send them the dollars
satisfying their hunger and greed
So they slashed all the life-saving programs
like a horror show bloody with gore
And as long as the People pay taxes
their desire will always be more
O emptiness of space, thy harpsichords. Whole?
Panels out of place, looking-glasses smashed.
Bitter winds, thy frost. Sickness, dole, O soul.
Chaffy grain beneath the tired thresher slashed.
Turmoil, tamarisk tree. Toil? Thunderbolt.
Hated are the days of life gone dry. Why?
Reality thinned, then forgot how to fly.
Happy thoughts, lost. Cost? Harvest season molt.
Protection? None. Been and done. Sun? Hostile.
Yellow as eyes on a predator? Pill.
Alcohol, wormwood, erasure, vile vial.
Guns, thy salute. Funeral. Lunge, then still.
Ravine, out back and filled with water. Caught.
Animals afloat, belly up, life flew.
Grey old men, hope is a mystery. Clue?
Sparks, burned out and skittering. Fire, cold. Bought.
Doom, close in on all. Deliverance? None.
Stifled by Fate and Fortune? Withheld. New?
Nothing under the sun, scion. Red run.
Grasping fingers and a quill, quahog. Brew.
Wasteland, receive. Gold, far. Sandbar, choke. Smoke.
Poison, leap from serpent's fang. Deeply sunk.
Peril, everywhere. Round upward, time. Soak.
Continent, beneath water. Ocean, plunk.
These knives cut so deep it hurts
Please God remove these knives and heal the wounds
The first stab come from malnourishment
Then another jab kicked out at 15
Before I know what I’m slashed with another knife sh*tty ass living arrangement
The Devil last and says I’m not still not done with you
So another stabs me the knife of being raped twice
God stands before me the devil says I’ve already started the reversal process The knife of malnourishment I’ve turned into a rose of being thankful
The knife of being kicked out 15 I will turn into rules of learning about yourself
The knife of sh*tty ass living arrangement I have turned into a rose of having a stable home
The knife of rape but I have shown her the beauty of being true to herself
So go ahead devil but she is indestructible and beautiful like the time and she is
Gloom descends upon my head,
Think it will never end.
Paint brush comes out,
Primary colors flit about.
Across the canvass in wide swathes.
Inked in buildings,
Some don't last.
Of towering structures covered in paint,
Green shadowed yards are so faint.
Clouds slashed across the sky.
Until the gloom is buried,
Behind the missing windows eye!
Poseidon’s spear slashed out from the angry waves
A tumultuous monsoon began to gather up the sea
The faerie folk went into hiding
When they saw army of sea cupids
The life he deserves ,the life he wishes to reserve
I observe every move
Every rule in life
Yet everything seem fair
The rich see everything fair
We cry and remain the dreamers
In every story we see winners
Not everyone gets a second chance
This world either work hard or get slashed
The ship of dreams
Opulent surroundings
Fancy bed linens
Luxurious dinner plates and tablecloths
Gleaming virginal utensils
Dazzling crystal chandeliers
Polished walnut woodwork
Gold gilded fireplaces
Wardrobes ready for furs and dresses
An experienced captain
Eager staff
Bustling activity
Musicians, artists, businessmen aboard
High ranking officials, wealthy industrialists, celebrities
Cruising flawlessly in clear blue sea
A haven and heaven during the day
Easy sleeping and dreaming in the evening
J.P. Morgan was disappointed to have to cancel at the last minute
Four glorious days of sailing
Around Midnight April 15th, 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg
The chunk of devilry slashed a three-hundred-foot gash in the hull
Haphazard evacuation ensued
First lifeboat could have held sixty-five people
It left with twenty-eight
The dream ship broke in half after filling halfway up with water
In two hours fifteen hundred people died
The majority of them froze to death in the North Atlantic
i made my mother cry
then i smoked a cigarette under the full moon
and i slashed my wrists
goodbye cruel world
When I was a child
Princes and knights rescued girls
And women who were also called girls
Back in the day
Boys were boys
Men were men
Girls were girls
Women were girls too
Girls waited for big brave men to save them
They rode up on horses and carried swords
They fought battles and slashed up dragons
They saved us girls
In the seventies old girls became women
I blame Helen Reddy and her song “I am Woman”
Princes and knights could finally go drink at a bar
Women could not save themselves
Starting with the book move,
Hii, it's pawn to e-four.
Don't act like strangers,
You've seen this move before.
Now my knights came into play,
It's surely an awkward move.
You won't understand my intentions,
And it might hurt you out of blue.
Now I'm cluttered in this position,
And there's no trick under my hat.
But I'm a true and loyal player,
You better believe in that.
It's hard for me to open up,
And castling feels secure.
I've placed my gambit.
Now the next move is yours.
Your bishop slashed me at diagonal,
And i have no good counter,
You say she's not aiming my rook,
But its obvious for me to doubt her.
Between this hustle,
My queen is under threat.
I should have been more careful,
And tried to avoid this bet.
But now I finally realize,
No matter what trick you choose,
You're just a noob to your opps
It's the game you always lose.
On a misty, foggy October morning
a low, cold wind spreads the smell of burning bark
slashed from our forest trees.
As the haze builds
the town contorts into Sleepy Hollow,
now the Headless Horse Man is expected to follow.
There, falls the sounds of dew and rain
and the birds that begin to awake
but the leaves and the trees are as still as can be.
Through the misty dew can I still see
the red and the orange and the green
of falls changing leaves.
Then I check my calendar screen
for the end of Summertime creeps
ironically on Monday's eve
wrenching us into the season of Hallows Eve.
my peaks hard as tiny bells,
ringing out a seductive melody,
i swirl, a dervish of debauchery,
legs spread wide — calling,
a gilded gates of paradise,
beckoning ye to surrender
to the abyss of my desire.
my voice, a sonic tonic call,
warbles, a throaty come-hither all,
weaving a spell of meander,
as the crowd's frenzy reaches a fever pitch,
their sweat-slick fingers clawing at the air,
yearning to touch, to claim,
to possess the forbidden.
i am the mistress of the mating dance,
the high priestess of hedonism,
the seductress of the damned,
and they are my willing flock,
led to the slaughter of their inhibitions,
of their sanity, o their very psuche.
grin slashed across my countenance,
plush velvets of garnet blows a kiss,
place erupts in a fit of madness.
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