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Salacious Bites, Old Evils Gouge The Grave

Rating: 5.0
Unleashing my soul, victim, I am doom!
Unease persists; raw nerves duel deep inside,
coward sun fails, breeds blood lust freakish moon
glowering bares upheaval in my eyes.

Complete infusion splits apart my being,
cellular sieges, changeling's pain inbred,
bows curving spine intent on savage mien,
redressing process, wolflike drooling head.

Incessant chain convulsions molt in rage;
ancestral blueprints, hellish DNA,
salacious bites, old evils gouge the grave,
hateful moon, your destructive lunar rays.

Woodland's hiss as I speed a trail that leads
to mountain earth in twilight forest pall,
I roll in dirt and dew-soaked scented leaves,
my body thirsts, I vault containment's wall.

I scent my prey and track with instinct's mind
panting hard, swift paws press green rotting grates.
My eyesight sharp in darkness they are blind,
guttural growls confusing their escape.

I claw the ground and leap with dark distress
in silenced air I howl to moon delight.
My barren soul will pain and never rest
in freakish moon the man wolf hunts tonight!
Monday, April 5, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: wolf,hunting,full moon,man
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Being an old Lon Chaney Jr. fan as a kid, I always wondered how it would feel for a man to change into a werewolf, provoked by a full and freakish moon. Well now I know! Poor Lon, it was said that after his werewolf career ended, he still loved howling at a full moon! I resurrected this poem, it was originally published under the title, Freakish Moon.
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COMMENTS
Kostas Lagos 05 April 2021
Werewolves! The wonderful children of the night! Excellent!
0 0 Reply

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