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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
The man in the alley is insane.
Syphilis eats at his brain.
All dressed in black,
he is ready to attack.
He stalks in the dark of night,
trying to stay out of sight.
A certain type he wants to find.
Whores,filthy whores screams in his mind !
A door opens at a nearby Inn.
Laughter for a moment and silence again.
The click-clack of heels on cobble stone,
as a woman of the night walks home.
A short scream then a moan,
as flesh is cut from bone.
He can hear the music of wind chimes,
as he stabs fourteen times.
He feels joy at her last breath.
Justification is somehow felt by her death.
Her suffering and demise brings delight,
as he disappears into the night.
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
Out of the bank I ran.
Money and gun in hand.
Bumped into a marching band.
Kids let out a scream.
A flash back from my dream.
Frown on my face,
as cops gave chase.
They screwed up my plan.
In the alley I made the last stand.
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
Mrs. Cuntley,
a widow is my landlady.
Chubby and kinda motherly
she cooks for me.
We drink on the weekends,
and the hot stuff begins.
In a see-through gown
she comes into my room and goes down.
I can’t resist
the passion in her hot kiss.
Horny and all perfumey
she rides, wildly!
We ride the powerful waves of ecstasy.
Tit for tat I like it like that, sexually.
A cougar that will not be denied
before she is satisfied.
Hot and sweaty
we rock steady.
I feel her coochie grip,
As she bites her lower lip.
She turns red
and throws back her head.
Suddenly,
we are blown out of the bed !
#Cougar
This story is from the past.
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
Her evil deed
fulfilled her need.
Her desire
started the fire.
Screams,
like in dreams.
She watched them burn,
as Firemen took their turn!
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
I’m in love with a jazz singer.
I would do anything to have her.
I’m intoxicated by her sensual style.
Her lovely face and shimmering gowns make me smile.
I attend every weekend show,
but I’m too shy to let her know.
In the back of the dimly lit piano bar,
I love her from afar.
Her angelic voice, the saxophone and piano,
beckons me to step away from the shadow.
Her songs caress my heart,
and it takes all I can do not to fall apart.
I withstand the crowded atmosphere
simply because she is here.
A note is sent one month later, I have noticed you,
come to my room 102.
Amazingly,
the Angel of fate made her feel love for me!
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
For many years
I’ve had my fun loving two,
wife and mistress, it’s true.
Double the pleasure, double the fun.
Now, my heart says my time is nearly done.
It was never my intention to cheat.
During a brief separation
the other woman I did meet.
The wife said come back for the sake of the kid.
So I left the other woman’s bed, yes I did.
The mistress said of this she would not speak
if I gave her one day a week.
Variety is the spice of life.
I did enjoy myself bouncing from mistress to wife.
Now, I lay in my hospital bed dying from a heart attack.
I’d rather kick the bucket, and not come back.
They stand over me and bitch and moan,
when I’m the one that has to die, alone!
Drinking, smoking, and excessive sex was not too smart.
The stress of dealing with two soul mates caused a fatal strain on my heart!
I was the tree that broke in a strong wind
because I would not bend.
Dear Lord over what happened I had no control.
Please, don’t let the Devil take my soul !
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
From the sands of time
once again I rise.
I shall swat them like flies.
The ones that caused my demise!
I’ll smite them high and low,
To Hell they will go!
Revenge brings me back.
Through a door in time I made a crack.
I shall smash and tear at thine chest,
until without rest I release
thy soul that dwells within.
I will then cut away strips of skin!
This to be fed to the wild dogs of Hell,
all to be felt while I drag thee down a bloody trail.
I will not rest until all three have been slain by me!
The bones will be ground into mud,and I will bath in thy blood!
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
Thirty nine steps to the open door.
A broken mirror on the floor.
Crackling fire from the log.
The howling of the neighbors dog.
A sudden chill through out the house.
The cat gives chase to the mouse.
Darkness all around.
What the hell is that creepy sound?
A shadow stares with red eyes.
I scream but no one can hear my cries!
I feel cold and hot.
I try to move but I can not.
It is so unfair
a strange hold keeps me in this chair.
If I could run the 39 steps would I be free?
I just don’t know,
maybe?
I pray for the chance to see.
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
“Why did it happen ?
What went wrong ?
She had always appeared
stable minded and strong.”
“They say she had some kinda
break down.
She became unglued.
The cops found her walking
down the street in the nude.”
“Whoa ! in the nude ?”
“Yes,in the nude.
Keep it on the down low.
She really is crazy,you know ?
I heard they had to shock her brain.”
“My goodness,really ?”
“Yeah,and she will never be the same.”
“Wow!”
“As a neighbor she was always strange.
Conversation wise she never wanted to exchange.
Always on the run,having too much fun.
Never quite done with this one and that one.
Thirty days in the nut house,
now she’s quiet as a mouse.
Look there she is across the street.
Welcome home dear !
Ain’t she sweet ?”
What the gossip mongers did not know.
In the war her boyfriend had died,
and she became petrified !
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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Willie A. Buchanan Poem
Nightly, she comes to my room
and drains me.
Too weak to resist her, intensity.
The pain, pleasure does intoxicate.
Slightly, south of rape
I must escape.
On my mind
all the time
In my heart together
or apart.
Wrapped around my soul
Can I break free without losing control?
Copyright © Willie A. Buchanan | Year Posted 2015
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