The days when she’d lived in a cave deep in the forest were gone. The trees there were burnt to black toothpicks now, all of them, and it was her fault. Even when she didn’t try, she still destroyed things. She had destroyed her forest just by living in it, just by being a threat to the nearby village that came with torches in the night.
A harsh growl ripple through his throat, claws finding their ways instinctively toward the weakest yet easily exposed skin, the neck.
“Look at me.” He breathed, his red iris glimmering in the moonlight, “This is what I am, this! This savage beast is who you want as a boyfriend!”
The claw loosen, letting the terribly shaken girl slide down against the tree trunk as he turned his back towards her, pacing away, a heavy breath with each step,
The savage tore the meat from the bone, blood dripping from his teeth greesily hungry for more. rRipping bones from the chest of the newly-killed carcas he
We read together, curling inward toward each other’s bellies. There are tales of farm animals and dancing crayons. After each sentence, she shrieks at me and reaches to turn the page with a savage determination. Books are already her native land.
Heather
I looked in her eyes and saw nothing but cruelty,
The turn of her red lips was the same as the outline of blood on the floor,
And her eyes were as dark as her soul,
Although most would say that they were blue.
I lost myself in her intensity,
And fell for the serial killer.
They are savages. The least of our demons is more civilized, more erudite, more sophisticated. In nine circles of hell, you will not find a natural inhabitant so crass. But we accept them with open arms. We look past their flaws, their genetic backwardness. We welcome them with hooks and flame, with teeth and saws.
you are a savage who drinks milk and coffee and huggles kittens in the street. But you also hide clocks in girl’s pockets. How do you feel about that, you motherfreaking oh my god not enough time–
Mila
he was. his lips turned white as they pulled back from his teeth. we had never seen him like that. we didn’t know what had set him off. we each cast our minds back to earlier events and in a look we gave to each other silently agreed that we could come up with no answer.
Why become savage? Some could reason well after crashing a plane on a long lost island. Stranded without food, even the young and clueless could turn into a savage island man with only one mission, survive.
Hanco
Savage is the name of a film starring Blake Lively. Supposed to be quite violent which I like. Savage was also the name of my head of year at secondary school. I hated him. I think the feeling was mutual.
Imogen Rayfield
The savage beast dribbles stinking saliva all over the dusty ground. Its barrel chest heaves with the effort it takes to move that monstrous thing across the floor.
I went to the savage store and they were all out of men with clubs. I had to settle for a baby savage. I promised mom I would water and feed him. He came home and made a mess. Now he won’t leave the fireplace. I don’t know what to do. Help, HGTV.
The rider on the motorcycle was attack by a savage dog, which appeared to be sick. We were able to capture the dog and also get the ambalance to take the person to the hospital for medical attention.
I wish I was a savage. I wish I had the brutality adn the lack of care and lack of guilt to just tell people what I thought, to go and do and be the person that I want to be instead of considering all of them and worrying about all of them day in and day out. I wish I was a savage with only my needs to worry about free of the tethers of computers and smart phones.
With a savage I like to play catch and go find the rings that I threw in the bottom of the pool. We run and frolic all day long. We run through the fields and roll in the tall grass. My savage and I have a great time playing.
Rover
Plump-cheeked young grandmothers in plastic aprons, carrying plates heaped with pancakes. They smile so beautifully over the steam. Their voices are so sweet, so kind, so when the evil spills from their lips, it hits you like a hammer.
the dog was savage. he didnt know any thing.he had no manners. he had no training. yet he knew the ways of the world. he knew how to love, he knew how to be loved. he ate a biscuit from a dustbin and smiled, he never attacked anyone. he only wondered if calling him savage was the right thing to do. werent the cultured people more savage than him? who could tell!
madhurima
dogs cats fighting against each other willing to die willing to kill they will do whatever it takes blood dripping teeth snarling eyes widened fiercely frighteningly nothing will stop the savagery I will live he will die
Linda
Savage heartbeats. Is that a terminology that can be correctly used for this situation? I don’t know. But my heartbeat is beating as if it thought itself the tribal war drums, so I’m going to use it. Tribal wardrums are beating in the distances. Perhaaps they are the ones that sound like my heartbeat, rather than my heartbeat sounding like them.
And the savages are walking through the woods, so silently that even right next to them I cannnot hear them, looking for me.
Savages. Those damn pigeons. Eating all my bread. Eating my burger. You sick fucks. What do you want, you rats with wings? You are nothing like the Goodfeathers. You are a disappointment to society. I am ashamed to be near you, pigeons. Strut. Strut. Squawk. Strut. Strut. Squawk.
crazy man,that kills blood dripping out savage. Not carrying no love. no hope savage feelings don’t no whats write from wrong at one point something went wrong in his life. He’s not sure what but he knows blood drove him to it in a savage inhuman way.
Christina
A beast, standing in front of the children, snarling with lips pulled back against omnivore teeth. Arms spread out, chest puffed up, a low growl unnatural coming from her throat. She doesn’t think she is being savage: rather, she is protecting her kids the way a tiger mom protects her cubs
In the savage wild, the lions and its cubs were plagued with thirst and hunger. It seemed as though all forms of life had disappeared from the barren forest. Fatigued from all the hours spent ambling across the desolate piece of forest, they decided to take a nap, huddling together from the intense heat from the merciless sun.
Brenda
One strip after the other. He peeled away all her defences, slowly, carefully. And she never knew until it was too late.
Dreams have long passed
And I wonder if you dream of me too.
In the mist, we talk like we used to.
Bold words – underlined
But still a secret. Our own world
That spins back into us.. Tangling us together.
And we listened, to the soundtracks of your life,
Of our short lives together. Taking in every breath
And every moment. Living in it,
In a golden carriage covered in pain, we found
Our sanctuary.
Laughing like we were children
Running in the sun, uncaring of who sees.
Capturing the moment, with smiles and shutters.
Those were the melodies of our soundtrack,
Finding refuge in each other,
A comfort, no other heart could burn.
And like a bird, you called to me.
And listened to me sing back our song
And let me fly, from your palm, above anything else, any care in the world.
Until I melted and cried tears of joy.
Now, with tears I write, that this birdie is gone
And sing the song of goodbyes.
I let you go, so you can be alive
Because now, all my songs cut you deep.
And our memories burn you, and silence any song
That we ever sang together.
Our soundtrack has faded into silence.
And I fly above you now, too high for you to see. For you to hear me cry.
And I await for a life, in which we are both birds. Crying the tears only a Sparrow can weave. Until you can fly with me, and we can sing again.
your bones shook and roared
even as i crunched them in between my teeth
and drank your blood like ichor
for the gods
your heartbeat matched my pulse
and decorated my eardrums like
your favorite rock song,
a rumbling in my belly even in my sleep
i ache for love
like the moth aches for light,
i ache for your breath
like your lungs ache for release
don’t check the darkness underneath your blankets
and don’t question this sudden warmth—
i promised you that i’d keep you safe
from the demons under your bed
and the ones in your head, darling.
F
And it was all I saw,
blood staining my vision.
I could only see you,
feeling pure fission.
Hadn’t we come here for peace,
not for war?
I felt my blood run savage,
it opened the door.
savage |ˈsavij|
adjective
(of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled: tales of a savage beast | a week of savage storms.
• cruel and vicious; aggressively hostile: they launched a savage attack on the budget.
• (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) primitive; uncivilized.
• (of a place) wild-looking
We call each other savages, and all of us are offended, though none of us knows what it means. No one is a savage at all really, all that is left is a bad taste in our mouths and a sense that sometime there was something unsavory to be, a long lost ancestor who embarrasses us, a corner of ourselves that we must never accept.
hmmmm when i think about savage it reminds me dinosaurs and cavemen and barbarians, yea thats it. and cabbage
karina
Amongst the blood of the living
anguish cast down by god
a heart to heavy
to bear the burdens of its sins
cast out among the carnage
and ravaged by savage people.
The idea of comprehension
of such a thing as peace and love
is to complex for the lives of such beasts.
What she wanted to do to him was savage–not in a violent way–in a sexual way. It had been too long since she had been touched, loved, ‘as one’ with another person. A massive void had taken over her life. She attempted to fill the missing portion anyway she could, but without what she really needed, she felt empty. Like trying to cover a large hole in a wall with only a few long pieces of transparent tape, the feeble attempts to take her mind off the issue only made it more prevalent in her dreams. Music spoke to her in sensuous taunts. Words spoken around her were twisted into other phrases not truly spoken, her mind editing the words with a passionate pen. Random eyes gazing upon her received a hungry stare to be quickly followed by licked lips, revealing her aggressive thoughts to strangers, hurrying them away shocked. Except for him. This one didn’t run. Instead he looked back, held her gaze with freshly licked lips, and waited.
I think of monsters and animals. The two aren’t very different. Animals we know exist, and ter we hunt them down just for the sheer experience. Monsters don’t, and yet we look for them in every corner of the world. Savage. Is it them? Or is it us?
Ali
Most have portrayed Native Americans as “savage” in history books, but it is the Americans that are the savages in my book.
He considered her a savage, a beast, an inhuman object. She was not something to be admired, but he could not help but noticing the beautiful amethyst color of her eyes and the way her olive skin glowed in the setting moonlight.
The days when she’d lived in a cave deep in the forest were gone. The trees there were burnt to black toothpicks now, all of them, and it was her fault. Even when she didn’t try, she still destroyed things. She had destroyed her forest just by living in it, just by being a threat to the nearby village that came with torches in the night.
A harsh growl ripple through his throat, claws finding their ways instinctively toward the weakest yet easily exposed skin, the neck.
“Look at me.” He breathed, his red iris glimmering in the moonlight, “This is what I am, this! This savage beast is who you want as a boyfriend!”
The claw loosen, letting the terribly shaken girl slide down against the tree trunk as he turned his back towards her, pacing away, a heavy breath with each step,
“Who you now must forget…”
The savage tore the meat from the bone, blood dripping from his teeth greesily hungry for more. rRipping bones from the chest of the newly-killed carcas he
We read together, curling inward toward each other’s bellies. There are tales of farm animals and dancing crayons. After each sentence, she shrieks at me and reaches to turn the page with a savage determination. Books are already her native land.
I looked in her eyes and saw nothing but cruelty,
The turn of her red lips was the same as the outline of blood on the floor,
And her eyes were as dark as her soul,
Although most would say that they were blue.
I lost myself in her intensity,
And fell for the serial killer.
They are savages. The least of our demons is more civilized, more erudite, more sophisticated. In nine circles of hell, you will not find a natural inhabitant so crass. But we accept them with open arms. We look past their flaws, their genetic backwardness. We welcome them with hooks and flame, with teeth and saws.
you are a savage who drinks milk and coffee and huggles kittens in the street. But you also hide clocks in girl’s pockets. How do you feel about that, you motherfreaking oh my god not enough time–
he was. his lips turned white as they pulled back from his teeth. we had never seen him like that. we didn’t know what had set him off. we each cast our minds back to earlier events and in a look we gave to each other silently agreed that we could come up with no answer.
Why become savage? Some could reason well after crashing a plane on a long lost island. Stranded without food, even the young and clueless could turn into a savage island man with only one mission, survive.
Savage is the name of a film starring Blake Lively. Supposed to be quite violent which I like. Savage was also the name of my head of year at secondary school. I hated him. I think the feeling was mutual.
The savage beast dribbles stinking saliva all over the dusty ground. Its barrel chest heaves with the effort it takes to move that monstrous thing across the floor.
I went to the savage store and they were all out of men with clubs. I had to settle for a baby savage. I promised mom I would water and feed him. He came home and made a mess. Now he won’t leave the fireplace. I don’t know what to do. Help, HGTV.
The rider on the motorcycle was attack by a savage dog, which appeared to be sick. We were able to capture the dog and also get the ambalance to take the person to the hospital for medical attention.
I wish I was a savage. I wish I had the brutality adn the lack of care and lack of guilt to just tell people what I thought, to go and do and be the person that I want to be instead of considering all of them and worrying about all of them day in and day out. I wish I was a savage with only my needs to worry about free of the tethers of computers and smart phones.
With a savage I like to play catch and go find the rings that I threw in the bottom of the pool. We run and frolic all day long. We run through the fields and roll in the tall grass. My savage and I have a great time playing.
Plump-cheeked young grandmothers in plastic aprons, carrying plates heaped with pancakes. They smile so beautifully over the steam. Their voices are so sweet, so kind, so when the evil spills from their lips, it hits you like a hammer.
the dog was savage. he didnt know any thing.he had no manners. he had no training. yet he knew the ways of the world. he knew how to love, he knew how to be loved. he ate a biscuit from a dustbin and smiled, he never attacked anyone. he only wondered if calling him savage was the right thing to do. werent the cultured people more savage than him? who could tell!
dogs cats fighting against each other willing to die willing to kill they will do whatever it takes blood dripping teeth snarling eyes widened fiercely frighteningly nothing will stop the savagery I will live he will die
Savage heartbeats. Is that a terminology that can be correctly used for this situation? I don’t know. But my heartbeat is beating as if it thought itself the tribal war drums, so I’m going to use it. Tribal wardrums are beating in the distances. Perhaaps they are the ones that sound like my heartbeat, rather than my heartbeat sounding like them.
And the savages are walking through the woods, so silently that even right next to them I cannnot hear them, looking for me.
the savage wanted to ravage
and she let him
the knight asked oh-so-polite
and she let him
then you came along and spoiled it all with love.
Savages. Those damn pigeons. Eating all my bread. Eating my burger. You sick fucks. What do you want, you rats with wings? You are nothing like the Goodfeathers. You are a disappointment to society. I am ashamed to be near you, pigeons. Strut. Strut. Squawk. Strut. Strut. Squawk.
crazy man,that kills blood dripping out savage. Not carrying no love. no hope savage feelings don’t no whats write from wrong at one point something went wrong in his life. He’s not sure what but he knows blood drove him to it in a savage inhuman way.
A beast, standing in front of the children, snarling with lips pulled back against omnivore teeth. Arms spread out, chest puffed up, a low growl unnatural coming from her throat. She doesn’t think she is being savage: rather, she is protecting her kids the way a tiger mom protects her cubs
In the savage wild, the lions and its cubs were plagued with thirst and hunger. It seemed as though all forms of life had disappeared from the barren forest. Fatigued from all the hours spent ambling across the desolate piece of forest, they decided to take a nap, huddling together from the intense heat from the merciless sun.
One strip after the other. He peeled away all her defences, slowly, carefully. And she never knew until it was too late.
-Soundtrack of our live-
Dreams have long passed
And I wonder if you dream of me too.
In the mist, we talk like we used to.
Bold words – underlined
But still a secret. Our own world
That spins back into us.. Tangling us together.
And we listened, to the soundtracks of your life,
Of our short lives together. Taking in every breath
And every moment. Living in it,
In a golden carriage covered in pain, we found
Our sanctuary.
Laughing like we were children
Running in the sun, uncaring of who sees.
Capturing the moment, with smiles and shutters.
Those were the melodies of our soundtrack,
Finding refuge in each other,
A comfort, no other heart could burn.
And like a bird, you called to me.
And listened to me sing back our song
And let me fly, from your palm, above anything else, any care in the world.
Until I melted and cried tears of joy.
Now, with tears I write, that this birdie is gone
And sing the song of goodbyes.
I let you go, so you can be alive
Because now, all my songs cut you deep.
And our memories burn you, and silence any song
That we ever sang together.
Our soundtrack has faded into silence.
And I fly above you now, too high for you to see. For you to hear me cry.
And I await for a life, in which we are both birds. Crying the tears only a Sparrow can weave. Until you can fly with me, and we can sing again.
your bones shook and roared
even as i crunched them in between my teeth
and drank your blood like ichor
for the gods
your heartbeat matched my pulse
and decorated my eardrums like
your favorite rock song,
a rumbling in my belly even in my sleep
i ache for love
like the moth aches for light,
i ache for your breath
like your lungs ache for release
don’t check the darkness underneath your blankets
and don’t question this sudden warmth—
i promised you that i’d keep you safe
from the demons under your bed
and the ones in your head, darling.
And it was all I saw,
blood staining my vision.
I could only see you,
feeling pure fission.
Hadn’t we come here for peace,
not for war?
I felt my blood run savage,
it opened the door.
savage |ˈsavij|
adjective
(of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled: tales of a savage beast | a week of savage storms.
• cruel and vicious; aggressively hostile: they launched a savage attack on the budget.
• (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) primitive; uncivilized.
• (of a place) wild-looking
indians. native american indians. heritage. ancestors. family. dream catcher. pocahontas. aztec. cherokee.
We call each other savages, and all of us are offended, though none of us knows what it means. No one is a savage at all really, all that is left is a bad taste in our mouths and a sense that sometime there was something unsavory to be, a long lost ancestor who embarrasses us, a corner of ourselves that we must never accept.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The only sounds in the air were that of blood droplets hitting the ground and her painting breath. One clan defeated, one more to go.
She arose, dropped the severed head, smiled, and continued on her savage journey.
He snarled at me with savage, lip-curled malignancy from across the table. “Is that all you think I am? A means to an end?”
hmmmm when i think about savage it reminds me dinosaurs and cavemen and barbarians, yea thats it. and cabbage
Amongst the blood of the living
anguish cast down by god
a heart to heavy
to bear the burdens of its sins
cast out among the carnage
and ravaged by savage people.
The idea of comprehension
of such a thing as peace and love
is to complex for the lives of such beasts.
What she wanted to do to him was savage–not in a violent way–in a sexual way. It had been too long since she had been touched, loved, ‘as one’ with another person. A massive void had taken over her life. She attempted to fill the missing portion anyway she could, but without what she really needed, she felt empty. Like trying to cover a large hole in a wall with only a few long pieces of transparent tape, the feeble attempts to take her mind off the issue only made it more prevalent in her dreams. Music spoke to her in sensuous taunts. Words spoken around her were twisted into other phrases not truly spoken, her mind editing the words with a passionate pen. Random eyes gazing upon her received a hungry stare to be quickly followed by licked lips, revealing her aggressive thoughts to strangers, hurrying them away shocked. Except for him. This one didn’t run. Instead he looked back, held her gaze with freshly licked lips, and waited.
Sixty second savage.
Dan Savage.
Soothe the savage breast.
There’s a certain savage feeling of hunger.
Eat, baby, eat.
You silly savage.
I’d much rather ravage than savage.
I think of monsters and animals. The two aren’t very different. Animals we know exist, and ter we hunt them down just for the sheer experience. Monsters don’t, and yet we look for them in every corner of the world. Savage. Is it them? Or is it us?
Most have portrayed Native Americans as “savage” in history books, but it is the Americans that are the savages in my book.
He considered her a savage, a beast, an inhuman object. She was not something to be admired, but he could not help but noticing the beautiful amethyst color of her eyes and the way her olive skin glowed in the setting moonlight.