Vampires on the Fridge

A good friend of mine gave me a box of 200 magnet words (the type that goes on refrigerators) that were "vampire themed". The challenge is to ONLY use the words provided in the box. So far, I have written four poems from this box (the first four below). It was, to say the least, very challenging. The last poem is just a silly thought I had at work. Hope you like this Halloween fare!

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I will rise forever Hunt by moonlight Our ancient need to embrace Immortal with desire For your love _____________________________________ I am damned Demon and human With bloodlust Tasting your heart My teeth thirsting To pierce your darkness Save me From the undead night ______________________________________ I am Vampire Immortal The creature parasite A demon enslaved Drinking forever the blood Of the lonely Lusting to possess you Your fear tastes so sweet In my graveyard embrace You then undead rise We wander as moonlight will Eternal Damned to darkness Feed me humans too afraid Of life and desire Our hunger can never end ______________________________________ I am blackest evil An enemy to feed on a friend Destroying your lifetime Making you a victim Embrace my dead heart We will walk our lonely crypt Taste the blood of angels And desire moonlight Forever _____________________________________ Vampire Tan (or: I'm Smokin' Hot) Vampires want to suck you dry, Be you baby, broad, or man. They like their very pointy teeth, But boy, they hate to tan. They won't go to salons to brown So tanning beds are out. They like to go where blood is found And drink it from a spout. Don't expect them to oil up Or lie upon a beach. Expect them all to sleep in dirt Then suck you like a leech. Don't laugh at them or at their skin. Albeit so white and pasty. Just stand out in the sun all day, And worry you might be tasty. ______________________________________ Happy Halloween!

Christmas in June.

I wrote this for one of my best friends for a Christmas Party she invited me to. Her name is Husted, so "hustedian" logic refers to her. I realize I am 6 months late, but it was fun to write.

Just Like The Mayans

  

The Mayans wrote it down in stone

That our world would never end.

We got it wrong, like some forgotten

Song whose words we did not attend.

And with our dawn, we staggered on

Some happy, and some to fret.

Husted falls into the former group

Because “she ain’t done yet”.

So day to day and year to year

We’ll live our lives with relish.

Habitually playing down our smiles

And do our pains, embellish.

Our metaphorical stockings hang

Expecting a charcoal fare.

We are appeased, if not half pleased

When we find nothing there.

Christmas comes and then it goes

We plan, we drink, we eat.

We laugh, we love, and decorate

Our lives with friendships’ treat.

  

So Here’s To Happy Holidays,

(To waxing full PC).

Make a toast to our Hustedian Host,

And drink most merrily!

  

We’ll March into our futures-

As lambs, or maybe lions.

We’ll carve secure, just to be sure,

Our songs (just like the Mayans).

b.                                                           

 I hope everyday is like a holiday.

Let me know your thoughts. 

Newtown

After almost six months, I am putting out my thoughts about the shootings in Newtown, CT. Let me know your thoughts.

A Perfect Flake of Snow

Stifled in darkness so god doesn’t notice

The (‘hallmark moment’) sobs,

Will angels have any

Tears left for us

When existence slips back into

God’s pocket with the other lint universal?

When angels can’t stop their grief

We call it climate change.

Each tear a perfect flake of snow

Falling.

So many from heaven, drifting deep in sadness,

Recalling the last moment of laughter

From the littlest snow angels humanity can still cherish.

Perfect, tiny impressions of wings on

Fresh blankets of frosty, diamond white.

Looking back and beyond our chaos,

With ancient cheeks forever moist,

Weeping eternally for our lack

Of understanding of how it all works.

(To love another more).

Their hearts will break until time is silent.

Embracing forever (our lost) innocence

Of Newtown.

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Brian O. Butler

8 June 2013