Killing Machine Poem by Amera Andersen

Killing Machine

Rating: 5.0


The beauty of an instrument of death
Behold my kingdom, it is I who reigns
A blast of hot air emits from my breath
Arabian blood in my silver veins

With each cut of the blade my belly grows
A deafening rage emits from my gut
Stripping my victims of green silken clothes
Banishing beauty with each sultry cut

Spewing the essence of flowering things
Gathering souls with such perfect control
I relish the joy that such killing brings
So stand in my way and I’ll take your soul

A simple kill, my victims are slower
I’m king of the field, I’m the lawnmower

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jayatissa K. Liyanage 03 June 2015

Wonderfully crafted to maintain the suspense ill the end. Like it very much.

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Ranjit Ravindran 11 October 2009

Wow.. You maintained suspense till the last line... marvelous.. The title and the remaining verses prepared me to expect a lethal weapon used in conventional warfare. In the end its just a lawn mover! Beautiful. Makes me remember O. Henry! A sweet 10.

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David dfsg 23 July 2007

Wonderfully written, and what a great finish. Awesome poem.

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