Tag Archive | "cleaver"

I’m Not Sure If I Have Potential As A Writer, But Can You Read My Poem And Let Me Know If I Have Potential?


I am the fetus firearm
The womb eradicator
The slave owner walking through the woods
Slumping through musky night
Eclipse hangs loosely over my shoulder
Jungle fever
Jungle rape
Sharpen the cleaver
Throw the body in the lake
Shaken up and shaken still
In the night lies my thrill
I begin to purge when dawn breaks
I purge, sticking my rusty finger ascending down my throat
And puke up the toxins like a model
But I am the model of the pines
In the pines, in the pines,
I do my time.
In the pines I do my time.
Each body is never found,
All because of me
When your daughter or son goes missing
You know who to thank
But unlike those Satanists up the valley
I don’t use the bodies for sacrifices or rituals
I just the love the hunt
The hunt is only a fraction of my adoration
In the end it’s just the morals
Wanting to be a rebel all my life
And I always believed in doom
But when I found that special niche
I knew the truth was there to loom
In and out, in and out
I feel the glory in your shout
The day Lord Byron brought his bear into the campus room
That is the day I justified my rights
My name is
nature

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