Poems about bulls



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№ 1125346

Bang the Bulls Eys.

-Kaitlyn A. Warnken

'I try hard to block myself from sadness but it breaks free and gets to me any way.
The Bad things are shot at me like bullets.
Me being the target, the hits make me sink so deep to were i don't think i could live to see another day.
While the world keeps revolving i wish to keep myself from evolving this way. So No matter how hard you say it, we both know things are never going to be okay. '


bang,  bulls.

Author: Kaitlyn A Warnken
+0-
Date: 21/01/2020


№ 1116270

Bulls Eye

Sometimes bullet matters,
Not the skill of assassin,
To hit the target subtly.
More it got subtle,
More it gave the pain,
Kills that to death,
And with the bloodstain.
And finally something hit subtly,
Cold was the gun,
This time I am sure bullet hit it,
"Ego" they call the bullet
And that was the "pun"!


bulls,  eye.

Author: Pranoot Hatwar
+0-
Date: 13/01/2020

№ 922628

Rally the bulls

Rally the bulls
With crimson capes
Blood will spill
There's no escape

You told me of the matador
Who gave you his word
That was his curse
Felled by your sword

Rally the bulls
You have been warned
There's no montado
The taurus scorned


bulls,  rally.

Author: vinny
+0-
Date: 21/07/2019

№ 915332

Rats Without Bulls

A star is born in a petri dish, and a speck of dun earth
Is dislodged from the nova... the old men weep
For their lost kites. as their knees creak and their windmills
Collude to disillusion.
And there be angels farming knots -
Of Rust and Myth... they sing the tune that dies laughing
In the face of Life.
As the void dispels the rumor of the center that cannot hold.
And the center consumes the void
With a Point.

Like rats without bulls
Or comets without gospels.
Perhaps rabbits without April
Or Now, without seldom... the fog joins the choir
Invisible. Joins the clutch
Of our quatraine, to meter the miseries
Of our adulations. like tears without worlds.
We are struck in the nerve
Of our god's left eye
And are left to seek our ventures
Where they best
Lie.


bulls,  rats.

Author: Third Eye Candy
+0-
Date: 14/07/2019


№ 841682

Lets Hit The Bulls-eye Together

I tied you to the boot of this stolen car, what a pile
Of rust but beggars cant be choosy, you do beg but I
Chose this place specifically don't worry I tied you
To an old fords car door, let the fun now begin.

I put the peddle to the metal, I hear you screaming in
Anticipation of what happens next. Got to love speed
Bumps, 30, 40, 60 then I brake just before swerving
So you sail past then you fly. Screaming all the way.

"I found ford doors have the right weight ratio to land
Door side up Skoda's, Audi,
"No,
"The mess of so many to clean up road pastry is not the
Easiest to clean away, slinters in my fingers hurt like hell,

They fly through the air I see them just before some with
Eyes closed fear etched on the sweat dripping or is that
Tears? I put a three pronged circle to see where they finish
Up. Each has a consequence, red, orange and green.

"You land in the outer dam, out comes the penalty stick,

Not many survive that, as I am angry for ill landings a lack
Off at least trying, I warn them but some just cry till I give
Them a good few whacks. I know silly but I do little sound
Effects "bang, bang, splat, then silence and twitching

"Bang, "I hate those that just linger and twitch die already,

Now orange that's ok at least the next one tried, but not hard
Enough, I give you a two pronged choice, gouge your sight out
With a spoon or a fork "what at least I'm giving them a choice,
Now they scream but some got balls it must be said.

Some do it, see no evil you know what I'm saying hanging tears
Of claret weep from there now semi vacant sockets, and still
They try to blink "look at me, as their head rise, but their still
Staring at the floor and I prune the with but two snips. Some
Survive others just clutch to a chest and like that "DEAD,

Now those that survive, well lets just say I am a man of my
Word I put them in the car to the safety I promise, I talk to
Them but understandably their not in the talking mood,
I give them water to hydrate and replenish lost liquid that
Has others wise bleed slowly out, and some even say "thank you,

Now what can I say luck, skill, survival instinct but so few have
Done it, like a four leaf clover they land in the pastures of green.
I jump up and down like a child at the fair who just won the
Big dinosaur on the very first try, punching the air and a very loud
"Hell ye that's what I'm talking about baby,
Then kiss um on the forehead, lips are to personal for my profession.

I tell them what skills what entertainment for some as twisted as it
Seems liked what I did, a few even asked for double or nothing.
But luck only goes so far and then the regrettably the penalty stick
Came out, I do the sign of L on my forehead then their silent once again.

But those who sighed with relief, as I promised were released, at the
End of a gun mind you a bottle of water given gratefully drank,
Then on their merry way, I bid them fair well and as that they never
Divulge this incident as I have their wallets, purses even email
You never no maybe bored and recollect our good times past tense
Of course for we all must face what is inevitable,

"Life is moments, where death is a breath that will always last,

But as is death, freedom is a fleeting moment, and a mind changes
Like the wind different direction, different path. Trial and error were
Key, things that mattered "weight, height, sex, all factors in the
End result of what is like a momentary freedom to the air then
Realization as they descend to a finite moment of death.

I always picked those that drove, why easier to cover tracks of
What was perused in my desires for a unique way to challenge
Others need to survive. To breath another moment to exist in this
Time of now not to pass. But life is fickle and my fun must last.

I always made sure that they drank the water, a necessity of
What came next ever drop drank, if denied then you guessed
It, penalty stick then "Dam, I do love my sound effects.
But released those with sight no knowledge of their ill fate.

Those I killed in the drivers seat pick a place where
Gravity would take president in this delicate manoeuvre
So that they would go through what was needed a accident
Of fatal consequence. Then on to the living that was next.


Like jack they rolled down the hill till unconscious they fell,
This little automobile swerving, ricocheting off boundary and
Wall till wheels graced air and the reeve of the engine heard.
A little gift of what was left in the boot a full tank of petrol
And the lid so loosely covered, accidents do happen.

I did one more thing I doubt they noticed there cigarette
Lighter engineered to be so slightly hot, just like porridge
To hot would be seen and felt, to cold and would be a waste
Of battery not enough, but warmth enough to ignite an
Accident in the back and I firework of flames birth forth.

Some exploded they were the best, while others tumbled
Flame and wreckage spread out what a mess. I always chose
The location, never the same suspicion would fall and my
Fun would expire and probably my life snuffed out in a
Breath. always cliffs near by and wall was best.

Now I bid you farewell as other circles must be drawn.
New doors must be had, who will hit the bulls-eye or
Who will fail the test. I'll try two doors at once spice
Up life's fun a little who will hit green and who will
Be the one who twitches and then "Bang, silence is best.


bulls,  eye,  hit.

Author: Poetic T
+0-
Date: 08/05/2019

№ 609114

Like 45 For The Bulls

You play the game for so long
It gets hard to stop
Call it inertia
Or competitive spirit
But you get so engrossed
In perfecting your skill set
Your strategy
That it becomes you
All day
Every day
You are stuck with your
Guard up with
This game face
That won't let up
It's a ruthless
Endeavor
And not always a
Fun one
But you continue to play
And continue to get better
Until you're on top
Of the game
And everyone knows it
But it wears on you
And one day
You finally decide
To shut it all down
Cut the losses and retire
All those years of hard work
The practiced lines
And polished smiles
The conquests and victories
Decide to toss it all away
For an opportunity
At honesty
Now it's almost like
You don't know how to act
But it's nice
Not having to put
So much effort in
All day
Every day
Meet a girl
Former opponent
See how things
Work
Without the rules of the
Game to abide by
It's refreshing
This honesty
Until you find out
From a friend of a friend
Early one sunday evening
That the game never stops
Whether you know it or not
And if you
Stop playing
Then you're just
Losing
So here comes that game face

Retirement wasn't for me
Anyways


bulls.

Author: Greg Berlin
+0-
Date: 10/10/2018


№ 585633

Of scales and bulls and fish

Chalk it up to previous trauma and learned experiences influencing my approach to new situations, but i'm wary of everyone now. my eyes are fixed on every exit and everything that can be used as a weapon when someone enters the room. if there was a pill to forget, I would take it. i can't go back and change yesterday, no, but it still touches me.

It's tiring living with borderline personality disorder and it's tiring being in love with someone who's also living with borderline personality disorder.
You can never love someone more than they hate themselves at times; you can either never be good enough for them, or they're not good enough for you.

We're supposed to be constantly feeling things at an intensified level than neurotypicals; extreme rage, excitement, drowning waves of sadness that threaten to take you somewhere no one can ever reach you again; i've lived my life in violent reds and heart wrenching indigos of tear-soaked navy-colored silk and it's dusk.

These poor legs just don't run like they used to. i'm thinking of plaster-filled walls and my poor mother painting layers and layers of my childhood bedroom, concealing kneeholes and knife holes i made as i descended into the labyrinthine maze of madness like a caged animal; a minotaur.

I think i tired myself out too early, fighting that good fight against familial kidnapping and climbing over the top of gated communities and skipping school to buy a greyhound ticket and shack up with a strange boy.

I lay last night in your bed, listening to the whirr of the fan you always insisted on using to help lull you to sleep, white noise and blackness and your warmth radiating into my perpetually cold skin.
Like it, i am numb.


bulls,  fish,  scales.

Author: cassiopeia miel
+0-
Date: 18/09/2018

№ 582505

Little bulls dream

There was little bull a friendly little thing
He would dream off bull fights and being in the ring
He pictured all the matadors that he had to fight
Waving there red capes in there suits so bright
He dreamed he run around and the crowd did roar
From this little bull the crowd they wanted more
He would tease the matador as he waved his cape
Straight in to his eyes the little bull would gape
He was only dreaming of what he'd like to do
Maybe when he; s older his dream just may come true.


bulls,  dream.

Author: WILLIAM WORTHLESS
+0-
Date: 15/09/2018

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