Time To Fight Back
The humans were encroaching on their hunting ground.
They'd have to send a dire message, which would be found.
They didn't want to fight or start a deadly war.
They were only three Shewolves, but were used to gore.
The humans always came in groups of two or more.
To kill just one human would be a grueling chore.
They tracked and they stalked for the perfect time to strike.
The humans all looked, moved, conversed and smelled alike.
They stunk, built fires, and trashed the ancient hunting ground.
Some stayed riverside, precious gold was to be found.
That was the venue to attack the greedy crews.
They didn't need more reasons to light their short fuse.
At night was the best time for a killing attack.
They needed to be cunning and not leave a track.
They didn't fear these beings, to fail was to die.
They had to fight for what was theirs, or at least try.
They waited for a waning moon for this great feat.
Strike with cruel force and like lightning, Death they must cheat.
They crept with stealth; soon the two miners were in sight.
They slept sound, without the smallest tremor of fright.
The trio struck quickly, and took one by the throat.
They drug him to the river and knew he would float.
It was a soundless kill, and the other slept on.
He awoke in the dawn with a stretch and a yawn.
He called for his partner and longtime hunting mate.
He wasn't worried yet, in his slow sleepy state.
While cooking breakfast he began to worry some.
He looked around now, and spotted a severed thumb.
There was no other sign of a struggle in camp.
Now the sweat started to bead, and his hands grew damp.
He grabbed his loaded rifle and a bunch of shells.
He wouldn't give up without many shouts and yells.
Weeks would be gone, before the lone miner was through.
He packed their belongings, and loaded their canoe.
He took the single thumb, now long turned grey and hard.
He would keep this memento, his mind always scarred.
Their home was filled with the smell of flesh quite rotten.
The miners were gone now, but never forgotten.
Hunting and stalking and killing were their real knack.
Now was the place, and now was the Time to Fight Back.
poem by J.B. LeBuert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hunting Humans (Lyrics)
Upon this threshold of disaster
The birth of the eleventh plague
The fires burn at night, I begin to doubt the smell of burning flesh
Will ever fade away
The touch of death is all around us
A thousand corpses block our way
A man-made germ makes almost everyone commit suicide
Just to rise and eat their dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
It's killing time every evening
I can't control this eerie feeling
An evil screaming in my head
I don't think I'll last the night
There is no cure
For this genocide
Or resurrection of the dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans...
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Killing Time
(originally recorded by sweet savage)
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of the heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Preparations are made for the journey back
Its a survival, supplies are packed
No more nights in this eternal hell
Destination is simple, we move out
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
The silence is over, they attack again
Killing and hatred drive me insane
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shot
There was a shot,
A shot fleeing through the dark night,
And all around was still
For fear of being found
As it whistled past the widows
Of every man, woman, child.
Searching.
Looking to rip and tear and kill,
And penetrate
The innocent flesh
Of any being, anywhere at all
There was a shot,
The sound came cracking through my dreams,
Impersonal and deadly
And hunting for the flesh
Of anyone who ever felt
Who ever laughed and sang,
Hunting,
Getting ready for the kill.
I will not let them die,
The ones who,
When the time comes,
Will live and love and grow.
I step out into the treacle night
And the bullet thuds home.
poem by Clover West
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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5. None Meat Eater
Deep in the jungle
A young lion roars
Out hunting for lunch
With fresh sharpened claws
His brothers and sisters
Were stalking a deer
It ran away quickly
When he came to near
The skills that he needed
For stalking and stealth
Would need to be found
To be good for his health
He seems somewhat clumsy
Although he was willing
To eat anything
If it didn’t need killing
So he first ate a mango
Then yams he was trying
And became the world’s first
Vegetarian lion
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The hunt for love
By my nature
i am not a hunter.
hunting implies
that killing takes place.
the last thing
i want to do
is to kill something.
is hunting wrong?
not necessarily,
but i think hunting is wrong
for me.
besides, as far as i am concerned
motive makes all the difference.
for example,
i was a hunter once
and didn't even know it.
a certain innocence had taken me
into the snowy woods
one snowy evening.
i was hunting
for someone to love.
little did i know my nonchalance
would lead me to another hunter.
this hunter
was moving cautiously
through the same poetic snowy woods
binding snowflakes into winter dreams.
this hunter was careful
to avoid familiar mantraps
while also hunting for someone to love.
poem by Richard Ilnicki
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The Old Fox
Vixen was a cunning old fox
her wits had kept her alive
she'd move around a lot
doing anything to survive.
All her cubs had moved out
so now she travelled alone
scavenging along the way
scraps and a bit of meat on a bone.
But she wasn't getting any younger
and her fur was shades of Grey
so she did her hunting at night
and slept throughout the day.
When her cubs came to visit
she was amazed at how they'd grown
but they didn't stay around for long
so once again she was on her own.
She ended up in an old foxes home
with her once red fur completely white
and all her claws and teeth fell out
so she couldn't scratch or even bite.
Her hunting days were now over
and with her cubs now by her side
she told them to keep strong
and closed her eyes and then died.
poem by Kevin Halls
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The game ranch
We went to visit my cousins
on their game ranch
and you hated it there
although every thing
was very comfortable
and you were well cared for.
What had set you off?
I still do not know,
but at breakfast you were already furious
although everybody
danced to serve and entertain you.
Was it the hunting tales
of the previous night
around the blazing big fire,
or the bush hog
that the Spaniard boasted
about killing,
which almost smashed him
of which his wife
had taken a video?
At the shooting range
some cool drink tins were set
and you didn’t want any help from me
and didn’t really listen
to the instructions from my cousins,
closing your eyes with every shot
that you took with the pistol
and missed every target by a mile.
I looked at the nine-millimetre pistol
with its missing front sight
and both my cousins smiled
as if conspiring with each other
and I clasped both hands together
in a well taught military hold
and your eyes went big,
almost popping out of your head
while the row of tins
was shot off
in what sounded like almost one shot.
On instruction I shot at the fallen tins
letting them jump into the air
until the magazine was empty
and the cousins
put matches standing up on bricks
and gave me a old.303 rifle
with an open sight.
I aimed carefully before pressing the trigger
and shot those matches down
and on your face
there was a frown
and even before we left
to go hunting
with some trackers
you looked at me
as if I had turned into a killer
and was going to shoot
at every living thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Forest Greeting
GOOD hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the north winds blow;
But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And ah! we are bold and strong;
But our triumph call through the forest hall
Is a brother's funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,
Panther and bird and bear;
Man and the weakest that fear his face,
Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
Hunters and game are we;
But who gave the right for me to smite?
Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And dim is the forest track;
But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
Brothers, the way is black.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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SS-3
Ancient crown placed on your head
The hangman of Prague
Seven keys to the chamber
Surrendered to the God
Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and spill some more
Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and bleed some more
Golden door submits secrets
As this nation falls
Atmosphere of deadly terror
Subservient to all
Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and spill some more
Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and bleed some more
Burning sense of mission
Assassination
Symbol of oppression
Crusade from exile
Obliteration
Sabotaged campaign
Check resistance from afar
Planning the death of one
When the plot is executed
There will be nowhere to run
Ramafications will be high
A price paid in torment
The end justifies the means
To hell you will be sent
The wolf leader now is the stalked
Expansion state of horror
Guns echo over the grave
A thousand fates are sealed
Murderous power brought to an end
Only to rise again
Cold and ruthless and iron will
Protectorate of the dead
A thorough sweep
Prelude to death
Secrets kept
But no one left
Firing squad
Begins their work
Harsh reprisal
For what you took
Retribution selective terror
The stench of death is everywhere
A severed head
A floating mass
Will give me the answers to what I ask
song performed by by Slayer from Divine Intervention
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild F*#$ing Manners
hunting a tiger
big sharp teeth
man-eater
these hunters
big egos, big guns
hunting for survival
need fur and meat to survive
hunting wild game
wild f*#$ing manners
saw lioness and her cubs
on f*#$ing youtube
wild animals is to game theory
as man is to war
primitive yet perfect in movements
stop hunting these majestic creatures
they echo the intelligence we lack
in a far away land called our sub-conscience
only to find our only way to organized life
we're just animals on a hunting ground
poem by Inner Projection
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Deer Hunting Time Is Here Again
Deer hunting time is here again
And many hunters take to the woods
After months of planning with family and friends
They gather in common brotherhood
It's a freedom that fills the soul of a man
With the peace of God's nature all around
Lessons that have been taught since time began
And lifelong memories and friendships are found
Hunting is taught by tradition still yet
Knowledge passed on from man to man
And you'll learn things that you'll never forget
And respect nature more, our wildlife, and our land
So all you hunters enjoy this time
May you be skilled and have lots of luck
May God bless you as you hunt today
And may you bag that ten point buck! !
Dedicated to my Father who enjoyed hunting with family and friends all of his life. He died of a heart attack on the opening day, while hunting with my brothers and uncles. He could not have asked for a better way to go, doing what he loved most!
poem by Kathleen West
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midnight At The Lost And Found
Hey Ricky, now mine is empty
How about one for you
We could set it out together
Seems tomorrow's overdue
Captain Video, done went home
One pilot laid to rest
And dragon ladies talk that talk
About who loves who - who loves best
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody at the back of the line
It's midnight at the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Midnight...
Have a double it's gettin' late
You'll get home home, just rely on fate
Place just finally came alive
Good old boys just arrived
Stools keep changin' faces
And the night just slips away
And like a long distance love affair
Soon you've got to pay
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody at the back of the line
It's midnight at the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Midnight...
Hangin' on barely, hitch a ride away
Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today
Hangin' on barely, hitch a ride away
Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody get back in line
Last call for the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
(Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunting peace
The arrow of time slowly creeps
The archer of inferno with raised brows,
Awaits - the mortal legion, armed for a combat.
Stabbed incessantly I writhe, with open scars that bleed,
I shut my eyes to this world of deceit in reflex
But I can't escape the myth of reality.
God inflicts angst on me.
I cry. I mourn. I shiver. I wail.
I am lost, never to return.
It's a defeated Me.
A Me quite not Myself.
This I - a lone self.
I am Orion, waiting for my place amidst the constellation.
If I could die, in death I would,
Inscribe my inncocence and my endless pain.
My senses lost, my soul entrapped.
I am left cold and numb.
In search of - a warm hand to hold on...
Am ashamed and embarrased of my state,
Never thought it would be so,
The cosmic forces crush me with their might and force.
Life and death, wedded in my mind -
Am living in death,
Am dying to live.
There is a hunting in my head -
There is a hunting in my soul -
There is a hunting in my heart -
Am hunting peace,
Am hunting me,
Am hunting you to rescue me.
poem by Gargi Chakravarty
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hero
They get you ready to fight
The fuse is ready to blow
You shoot to kill on sight
They call you g I joe
You never wanted to stop
The smell of burning flesh
The hero marches alone
Across the highway of death
Its not a matter of rights
Its just a matter of war
Dont have a reason to fight
They never had one before
Youre just a killing machine
Hes come to take you down
We take the gas that we need
And pump the blood on the ground
Theyre gonna set you up
So they can take you down
Theyre gonna suck you dry
Theyve left the blood to be found
Theyre gonna rip you apart
Youre gonna burn at the stake
Cos when its time to collect
Its only heroes who pay
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tale of Feud
I arrived one night when the new moon was bright
whilst the others were howling at the moon.
I was the last of the ten to arrive there and then,
and without doubt we made it not a moment to soon.
We were being hunted down and they were all around;
those hideous creatures, so different to us.
We were hated and despised for being different, and alive,
and we needed to move quickly without fuss.
After moving a short distance we encountered resistance
from our warriors, who wanted to stay and fight.
Cross words were exchanged and tactics rearranged,
and all agreed they would fight for their right.
The skirmishing bats and owls caused some of us to howl,
which alerted the enemy of our position.
But carried on the wind was their smell and we could tell
they were coming from an easterly direction.
The young and old were in no uncertain manner told
to stay hidden, undercover, and quiet.
Whilst we waited attack, the foe’s scouts came to the back,
and began attending to their hidden diet.
The hair on our females and males, stood up like nails,
as the enemy charged, with menacing shouts.
The screams from behind brought the hidden to mind,
so no time was wasted in killing their scouts.
There were no winners here, but all fought without fear,
and many bodies lay on the ground.
Will this feud ever cease, could there ever be peace?
A solution must somehow be found.
The relentless seekers of our blood did what they could
to satisfy their hunger for slaughter and food.
From that nights new born ten, only one breathed again;
the writer of this tale of feud.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Remained A Coward Till The End
You claim you're hunting but you're killing for fun,
Hunted animals are rarely eaten,
I have no chance against the force of a gun,
You know you have me beaten.
When you've killed me you'll stand over me proud,
Arrogant is the word I prefer,
Butchering me this way should not be allowed,
With no weapons you wouldn't dare.
If you think you're so brave come to my land,
But leave all your weapons behind,
Use your God given skills with nothing underhand,
Then we'll see how your species is defined.
To fight one on one which you claim is fair,
Is a subject on which we won't disagree?
With no weapons allowed we can then prepare,
To find out who the victor will be?
Our problem is you don't play by the rules,
You'll do almost anything to win,
Without barbaric weapons you are the fools,
So we'll now let the battle begin.
After hours of stalking you out of sight,
I now decide it's time to attack,
I‘ll let you feel the full force of my might,
Your despair shows you've been taken aback.
As I am about to maul you to death,
I can see you're completely distraught,
As I hesitate to watch your final breath,
Suddenly out rings a shot.
As I lie here dying I see cowardice in your eyes,
This challenge you knew you would lose,
With the rules of decency a human never complies,
Where you go chaos always ensues.
You tell me you're sorry but it's far too late,
In the background with a gun was your friend,
It was he not you who's left me to my fate,
‘' You Remained A Coward Till The End ‘'
Alive And Killing
I once knew this boy
Who was in his teens,
A dog tag around his neck
A pair of low waist jeans
A ragged shirt, streaked hair
Branded shoes, the thuggish stare
It all fitted him very well
Yet his darkest secret he would never tell.
There was one little piece
The jigsaw was missing
That one thing that seemed out of place
That one thing that didn't fit in.
He had everything,
Yet he seemed depressed
'Is it your marks? Your studies? '
'Why are you looking so stressed? '
His parents would give him
Everything he needed and more
Yet his wasn’t as bright
As the clothes he wore
He was always missing from class and home alike
No one knew where he went
Except his little brother
He had followed him that day
To see where he went alone
He followed him to a house
He followed him back home
He saw what his brother did
He saw his brothers near death
He knew he had to stop him
He would fight till his final breath
Seven years of mystery
Was uncovered that day
But only his brother knew
When his motionless brother lay
His brother was dead
Dead of drugs
That seventeen year old
Had been dealing with thugs
The brother didn’t reveal
The information he had
He knew his brother wasn’t the only one
What he knew was driving him mad
He was going to do something
About these killing things
Going to take action
Going to spread out his wings
He was only thirteen
What could he do?
Nothing was in his hands
That he knew
Then he decided to take his stand
For his brothers sake and all like him
He knew what power lay in his hands
He knew how he could inspire a change
He knew precisely what he had to do
He walked to his brother’s room
And picked up his pen
And with a firm mind
And an urge to make a difference
He began to write....
Alive and killing.
poem by Abhishek Vishwanathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sounding Borewell Signals
Good morning
On bicycles and 'bikes run
With kudams and buckets
On first-chore-water-hunting
Provoking heartfelt empathy
Yet water-hunting isn't much
Empathetic but feasting
Warblers squad signalled
Of sounding borewell motor..
Overflowing overhead tank pouring..
Birds many round screeching
In gentle drinking harmony
Empathetic humans jostle..
Water-pumps and metro-water cabs
All by road-side screeching humanly
Sympathy or empathy is humans'
Yet apathy is...?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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No Name #2
Concrete hands picked up the telephone ring
Do you know who's you're talking to?
No, and i don't care who
She whispered quiet terror news
He didn't give a hoot
Said do what you have to do
All she had to do was speak
Mouthpiece to cheek
Please say no more
I'm lying here on the ground
A strip of wet concrete
Her name was just a broken sound
A stutter step you hear when you're falling down
Killing time won't stop this crying
Killing time won't stop this crying
Killing time won't stop this crying
You better start watching what message that you send now
No more situations i only go in to be kicked out
He got knocked down leaning like he ran into a clothesline
And remembered a couple of words that hid a crime
You're just fine
You'll be just fine
But i'm on the other line
Killing time won't stop this crying
Killing time won't stop this crying
Killing time won't stop this crying
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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