Painkiller Passion

On moonlit nights when woodlands are black
The game we play teasing, while running the track
It's blood lust, not pheromones that lead him to me
The rampant endorphins that simply won't be

He stalks me, I’m wild prey! He's poised for attack!
'Walk with me, kiss me', He feigns, I retract
His voice on these evenings entices me, fact
And when he bites down, damp earth bloods my back

I feel his weight on me, he drains me to snow
This painkiller passion, forever, in glow
My desire, so wicked, I need, he provides
But love’s never simple, when lovers don't die

Thirsty for blood, the forever of time

He’ll always be with me
Perpetually mine ...

Life After Twilight - Pardon the Pun

‘Twas Hotel Transylvania,
Where the blood games began,
Where The Count first proclaimed,
“I’m not a Vamp, man!”
Mr Barlow got busy, Bled Salem’s Lot dry,
And “Look at me teacher! Look!” he did cry.
True Blood HBO -
Thou shalt not crave thy neighbour -
Only True Blood is served
At Merlott’s and Fangtasia!
“Sookie’s Mine!” Bill Compton so proudly stakes claim,
But it’s Vampire Diaries,
Where Damon takes reign.
So Twilight, New Moon, and each Breaking Dawn
Wish for an Eclipse, and bring end to the mourn.

Let's get this party started with ... An Ode to the Web

It’s often quite dark before I reach this destination,
Late night, or early hours before dawn. 
Only night birds or currawongs divide the isolation,
Distant song lulls the frenzy that’s borne. 
I’m lost in the labyrinth named World Wide Web,
When my mind should be quiet, I’m reading instead! 
And it goes on and on into the wee hours,
When the world is asleep, and the web spins it’s powers.
And I come across jewels that sparkle and gleam,
Knowledge that brightens the darkest of seams.  
And sometimes I click on these tiny bright keys,
To find the most wondrous things –
BlogSpots, short stories, poems and twitters,
Writers who enlighten - or give me the jitters. 
But it’s rare that I’m hurt by these wondrous jewels,
Instead I drink ravenous, absorbing their fuels. 
And so I will write, or cast the odd poem,
And hope someone finds me before dark is stolen.