The All Mighty Taryn Fort weighs in with TWO untitled Tiger Poems! Taryn was a tiger when she was young, but now she is a sexy Wildcat!
Orange inflammatory terrain provides government
betwixt the blackened ribbons.
Some colonies are smeared larger than others.
Wealth over poverty? No deep sink here;
survival drifts aloft waves of coat.
The head of the apple-consuming Snow White
provided more congressional mass for decision-making-
perhaps indicative of the lure toward no resistance flourish.
Distinguishing between two is a camouflage of old.
Lazy vigilante ventilates the creature.
This is no novice Yankee;
but striped couture of an archetype in the great cycle.
Crayon-colored slivers messily steer to its noggin.
Great cyclical accounts of hunting drag through generations.
The felt-tip masks its face,
catalyzes death for those genetically-challenged.
Natural selection presides-
a Darwinian capability to keep up with the Jones'
of responsibility to change.
Fright fails the oiled ability of its observation methods.
Many lose. Scribble down law. Pass it along. Nobody messes with us.
Brand me tiger.
Tiger meat is good to eat when you are almost dead.
It's tougher than chicken and fervid devil red.
Cursive circles of black intertwine pumpkin
for orphans well-fed.
Blaze on my arms and cut open my head.
He will eat off my tongue and inclinations rarely well said.
Perhaps he will prefer a sapphire nail bed. Ions lost steam
and vents openly bled.
Carousing is no longer a book to be read.
Flee of your mind, the claws in cushy skin bread.
I feel it all now. Upon my hide he will tread.
Blankety-boo, sugar-filled cubes of me fester blue.
Turn it around. The human fell through.