Pitbull blood sport

In the fuzzy hour of sleep, reality sifts

in rifts of soft smokey drifts.

Sweet slumber shifts to the chill of acid tears.

The wonder of lace and mirrors, becomes a placid sackcloth of fears.

A blunder does erase white down clouds to dark shadows.

In thunder a clown's snickering face lauds love, beckoning stark decay of the gallows.

In dreams shallows, I sold my essence, receiving the prey of nightmares.

An echo screams in a hole where, adolescence lost my soul, deceiving white hairs.

I'm a dog in a fight against Cerberus' rage in the betting pit.

Released in a fog, from the cage, a loss, in a murderous double cross, that dries spit.

I've been bit, ears torn. Too late! Rabid, howls and growls fill the air.

As I sit, in scorn, at hell's gate, foaming jowls, gnashing teeth bare.

Crowds swear, cheer, bet, jeer, sweat, stare, there's a fist fight and drunken brawl.

But in this lair no one dares, shed a tear or care, nothing makes this right at all.

Hair and flesh tear, I've got no time for thought in my plight.

Put on the spot, although I fought, I shrink from the bite.

Blood's terror runs hot, like a dog caught, by his throat in a fight.

Here you can't take a dive, only one leaves the pit alive, a grip on my neck so tight.

Don't let em out of your sight, despite a broken leg, don't beg, no matter the fright.

Might I, from this blood sport, find my way free?

You're right, I retort, this depends entirely upon me.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

I hate this but your writing is raw and savage and fast as if pouring with venorm, baiting and blood. What a topic for a poem.. brilliantly written.. one to remember if only to use it against the whole evil performance. / Guess, like me, have seen at least the aftermath's sordid evil mess. Even the air stinks and has a kind of silence as every living thing has gone underground and is waiting for the same. Meantime men have gone..vehicles on a screeching full speed getaway, lights near dimmed.

'Blood's terror runs hot, like a dog caught, by his throat in a fight.
Here you can't take a dive, only one leaves the pit alive, a grip on my neck so tight.
Don't let em out of your sight, despite a broken leg, don't beg, no matter the fright#

[Soren]

Thank you Emmajoy Yes the idea or human cruelty is laid out not only to animals but in reverse metaphor to people as I hear of war and its atrocities. How do we treat our fellow man even in sport and call it humanity?

[emmajoygreen]

I wholeheartedly agree, Soren. But having read and re-read your present poem, I felt angry about the content definitely now how you had expressed it.
For me, life in all its forms is sacred. Cruelty be it war, physical and/or mental abuse, gassing an/or hungtin creatures, etc. is evil.