I finally finished this poem... or more correctly, i'm satisfied with each line. For those who didn't read the previous versions, this poem is a brief descriptions (somewhat skewed) of what happens every Thrusday at my friends house. Enjoy!

The Horde gathers
like men to a willing whore
ready to ravage
the pink juicy core.

But first, men of valor
clinch to their paper and plastic
Striking, like wolfs on helpless sheep
Bringing back, an entire heap.

The fire roars and reason fades
as great men gorge
on bloody flesh, sweet nectar,
and our own, triumphant stupidity.

And half-way through
sodomy reigns and racism dictates
where dignity, politeness, respect
is an ash-tray for the cancer we project.

But alas, glutted and pleased
we depart into the night
but worry not, half a fort-night away
the meat shall fear that day.

interesting. makes me think!

line 7, it's "wolves"

nice po3m, its grown up

thanks jaxaiyajin, the spell check never catches that

It's been interesting to see this poem evolve as it has...but one thing remains the same. I still end up hungry afterwards. Thanks for sharing the finished version.

lol I don't know what to say ^^ yeah i know you wanna strangle me and get me out of my busy life to read yours...hey i haven't try that cigar thing yet...anyways...this poem sounds much better, i like how you make the meat have "feelings"

whoa....the shady areas of life lol..
nice one j0n0san^^