She lunges, but he dodges. She is savage, anger wiping all thoughts from her mind. She cannot lose. It is out of the question. She. Must. Win. If not for herself, for Tock. For his apple.
A man-beast. Someone who is not intact with society someone who lives in the wilderness. Someone who wears ragety nasty cloths and doesn’t get to bathe. someone with no friends and no one to care about them and no family….
The iron settled onto the skin of his neck with a savage hiss, and try as he might Jensen couldn’t help but let out a vicious howl of pain that strained the ears of everyone in the barn.
She was a savage. If I actually knew what that meant. But I don’t because I don’t read ‘quality’ books. I read fun books because I like to read. ‘Quality Books’ can sometimes be boring and I would feel bored and weird reading something that was not what I picked.
He looked at me. his eyes wild and untamed. his hair whipping in the wind. when he said such strange words all i could think was savage.
but then here we are. were all savages scounging in world we dont belong in.
2020, March 10th “Oh no! It’s the savage beast!” the girl called as it ran after her. The green venom was dripping down it’s teeth. he irls father was holding her hand, while her mother holding hte baby. Her older brother was behind.
“HELP! IT’S GETTING CLOSER TO ME!” he screamed. The FBI came. They put it in a rope and sent it to monster jail on planet mars. The savage creature was no longer going to harm the village.
He’d forgotten what humanity was like. What it was like to coexist with others. What it was like to live among those not of rot and leprosy. Among the carcasses of the undead, he laughed, and laughed, losing his mind with every fly to flit past and every deep, wheezing breath of putrid air.
They say music soothes the savage beast (though the actual quote is “savage breast,” but who likes to throw the word breast around?) But really, I think it depends on the type of music, because sometimes music can rile me up, get me angry, make me more savage than I otherwise might have been. This is why I prefer acoustic whenever possible. (No offense meant to electric music whatsoever.)
He pushed me to the bed and savagely tore away my clothing.
He showered my neck with kisses, while his hands eagerly explored.
I couldn’t help but do some exploration for myself.
Shivers ran through my body as we melted into one.
I tore through the rain, feeling my soul ripped free, floating up towards the moon, I felt so good, like I had finally accomplished it. I felt a savage passion, an emotion so powerful, I fell to my knees and crying, I laughed at the stars loudly.
I raise the dagger above my head and feel the sweat drip down my back and arms as the fire burns behind me.
“Do it!” They shriek again and again, so loudly that my ears begin to ring. I look at the writhing, gagged boy in front of me, his eyes screaming to be spared. I look at my father; his face barely visible in the shadows, except for his deep set eyes glowing with the reflection of the fire. I feel the dagger in my hands and imagine instead it’s sharp blade breaking my skin; the blood draining from my veins; my body growing gray and dead. But I am not that brave.
So instead I hurl the blade into the boy’s chest with all the force my body allows. They cheer and scream and cry with joy. The yell my name and pat my father on the shoulder and say,
“Look at your boy, Ez. Look at the man he has become.”
But I do not stop there. I raise it above my head, and bring it down again. And again. And again. The cheers become quieter. I plunge the knife in his stomach and let his blood cover me. I listen to his cries go quiet and his body grow still. The audience’s cheers grow thin and hard to hear over the sound of metal meeting flesh. I cleave and carve the meat in front of me. I feel hands on my shoulders, and they try to pull me away, but I refuse,
“Let me kill him! Let me finish!” And then I hear my father’s voice behind my, tugging my arm, pulling me back, murmuring,
“It is done. Look what you have done….it is done.”
The crowd stares at me.
It is completely silent.
I think everyone wants to be a little savage. Wouldn’t it be nice to go completely Lord of the Flies- not for too long, not long enough to kill someone or start worshiping a pig head on a stick- but just long enough to rip your clothes off and jump into a shallow pool screaming at the top of your lungs. People always say to let loose, to relax, but I think what they really mean is to become temporarily savage.
They called me a savage; they called me a lot of things but I knew who I was and I didn’t care. I knew the wind would take me somewhere special — somewhere they wouldn’t show prejudice against me. I wasn’t them. I was different. So what?
He attacked savagely. He ripped the town apart, brick by brick, and when he was done there was nothing left. Just smoke and decay, the slightest hints of humanity gone.
dave! its the surname of this weird guy that lived dow nthe road from me. ginger, big nose. also means a person that is basically extremely blunt in opinions of people. some animals can be referred to as being savage, in the way they attack other animals.
The beast emerged victorious from the sprawling landscape. The fences jittered as the electricity coursed through his opponents body. The cameras were focused on him, he knew
the crazy bastards that always kill me in skyrim and the flying deathmonkeys that rot in my dreams. savage is so like, two centuries ago. uuhhh uhhh uhhhhh warriors and crazy people with battleaxes!!!!!!!!!!
I see the savage in the mirror. I see it day in and day out. I can’t seem to get the image out my head. I’ll never be able to change the image…or ever lose the thought that I’m anything but one.
my best girl friend growing up had the last name savage, and she was the complete opposite. she was quiet and hesitant, i always had to convince her to climb the trees and kiss the boys. i hope she turned into something more like her last name.
They called him a savage. He had come down from the mountain’s edge, garbed in the furs of the animals he had taken with his hands and teeth, bones through his hair. He was an animal to them. He looked back, saw their waste, the furs and bones of his fellow creatures tossed aside like so much scrap, and wondered who the savages truly were.
He surely was a one. Dressed in bear skins and skulls, holding club with few sharp spikes. He was looking exactly like one of these berserkers from Norwegian mythology. Perhaps he was one, sure thing he was hell of a savage.
I started at the dog, slowly backing away. He looked like a hand-me-down. Why did I get stuck with him as my shelter pet? He growled and lunged towards me.Thank goodness the cage was between us. I said the worst insult I could think of.
“Savage.”
Scuttling through the underbrush, covered in filth and mud and leaves, thrones scratching her sides as she runs, low and bent down. There are ferns permanently entwined into her ever-more matted hair, hair that used to be dyed a vibrant red but has faded and is now half brown and half a strange orangish shade that does nothing to help her blend into her surroundings. It’s okay, though, she hasn’t seen another human in months. Strange how it only took her a short collection of weeks to turn savage.
You savage beast. You must get out of here. You don’t belong here with us. Now go get before I take my hands and. No wait I can’t do this. You are my brother and I love you, but you do need to change.
“Savage Garden? I remember them! Their songs were so marvelously sappy.”
We were rummaging through our boxes and towers of CDs before Dad started the garage sale. Rhonda had uncovered several of her Celine Dion disks, while I had found my Backstreet Boy ones. We giggled like schoolgirls again as we searched.
“To think I occasionally still listen to all this,” I laughed.
To her he was a savage man , someone who needed rescuing ……. Yet she clung to hope that he would one day change for the better. Looking into the mirror she knew that she should have given up on that hope a long time ago. These painful bruises , black and blue on her face , trying her hardest to conceal them from the world…… When will this poor woman learn .
Savage is not just how untrainted people act. It’s a way of thought. Even the most dignified can have a savage streak a mile wide. It’s in how he thinks, not in how he acts for thoughts are how a true person measures themselves.
I feel like google is a savage eating at my soul with all the changes it making. I am scrambling to keep the monster at bay and keep the flesh on my bones. It is winning.
beast in the jungle, crazy running wild shit, rawrawrwarawrawrwarwrwar, killing and cannibalism and stuff, animals, trees, coconuts, fruits, peeling the fruits, etc etc etc… barbarism, no social structure, no infrastructure, just crazy shit all the time, barbaric shit
I remember first seeing her in Annie, singing “NYC.” Apt at the time. One solo moment, playing the part of the “Star to be,” that stole the show and got her seen. “Who the heck was that?!” everyone said. – There are no small parts ;)
Later I recognized her in the movie “Hair” singing “Black Boys”, and then she was pretty much everywhere. Great voice. Died during her prime – of life and her career I think. I remember her voice, her eyes, her hair…
She lunges, but he dodges. She is savage, anger wiping all thoughts from her mind. She cannot lose. It is out of the question. She. Must. Win. If not for herself, for Tock. For his apple.
A man-beast. Someone who is not intact with society someone who lives in the wilderness. Someone who wears ragety nasty cloths and doesn’t get to bathe. someone with no friends and no one to care about them and no family….
The iron settled onto the skin of his neck with a savage hiss, and try as he might Jensen couldn’t help but let out a vicious howl of pain that strained the ears of everyone in the barn.
She was a savage. If I actually knew what that meant. But I don’t because I don’t read ‘quality’ books. I read fun books because I like to read. ‘Quality Books’ can sometimes be boring and I would feel bored and weird reading something that was not what I picked.
primal tendencies
tend to drag rough meat from bloody bones
like tender baked ribs
this lingering long lust
lasts in the lashed-out
salvage
He looked at me. his eyes wild and untamed. his hair whipping in the wind. when he said such strange words all i could think was savage.
but then here we are. were all savages scounging in world we dont belong in.
2020, March 10th “Oh no! It’s the savage beast!” the girl called as it ran after her. The green venom was dripping down it’s teeth. he irls father was holding her hand, while her mother holding hte baby. Her older brother was behind.
“HELP! IT’S GETTING CLOSER TO ME!” he screamed. The FBI came. They put it in a rope and sent it to monster jail on planet mars. The savage creature was no longer going to harm the village.
He’d forgotten what humanity was like. What it was like to coexist with others. What it was like to live among those not of rot and leprosy. Among the carcasses of the undead, he laughed, and laughed, losing his mind with every fly to flit past and every deep, wheezing breath of putrid air.
They say music soothes the savage beast (though the actual quote is “savage breast,” but who likes to throw the word breast around?) But really, I think it depends on the type of music, because sometimes music can rile me up, get me angry, make me more savage than I otherwise might have been. This is why I prefer acoustic whenever possible. (No offense meant to electric music whatsoever.)
He pushed me to the bed and savagely tore away my clothing.
He showered my neck with kisses, while his hands eagerly explored.
I couldn’t help but do some exploration for myself.
Shivers ran through my body as we melted into one.
I tore through the rain, feeling my soul ripped free, floating up towards the moon, I felt so good, like I had finally accomplished it. I felt a savage passion, an emotion so powerful, I fell to my knees and crying, I laughed at the stars loudly.
I raise the dagger above my head and feel the sweat drip down my back and arms as the fire burns behind me.
“Do it!” They shriek again and again, so loudly that my ears begin to ring. I look at the writhing, gagged boy in front of me, his eyes screaming to be spared. I look at my father; his face barely visible in the shadows, except for his deep set eyes glowing with the reflection of the fire. I feel the dagger in my hands and imagine instead it’s sharp blade breaking my skin; the blood draining from my veins; my body growing gray and dead. But I am not that brave.
So instead I hurl the blade into the boy’s chest with all the force my body allows. They cheer and scream and cry with joy. The yell my name and pat my father on the shoulder and say,
“Look at your boy, Ez. Look at the man he has become.”
But I do not stop there. I raise it above my head, and bring it down again. And again. And again. The cheers become quieter. I plunge the knife in his stomach and let his blood cover me. I listen to his cries go quiet and his body grow still. The audience’s cheers grow thin and hard to hear over the sound of metal meeting flesh. I cleave and carve the meat in front of me. I feel hands on my shoulders, and they try to pull me away, but I refuse,
“Let me kill him! Let me finish!” And then I hear my father’s voice behind my, tugging my arm, pulling me back, murmuring,
“It is done. Look what you have done….it is done.”
The crowd stares at me.
It is completely silent.
I think everyone wants to be a little savage. Wouldn’t it be nice to go completely Lord of the Flies- not for too long, not long enough to kill someone or start worshiping a pig head on a stick- but just long enough to rip your clothes off and jump into a shallow pool screaming at the top of your lungs. People always say to let loose, to relax, but I think what they really mean is to become temporarily savage.
this site will not give me any other word besides savage. i honestly dont like the sound of the word or what it means.
Tail tucked between her legs; my dog Puddles eats. her stomach so small her ribs show even though she is feed twice a day. she eats like a savage.
The boy quickly began to savage the scraps of metal from the boatwreck.
They called me a savage; they called me a lot of things but I knew who I was and I didn’t care. I knew the wind would take me somewhere special — somewhere they wouldn’t show prejudice against me. I wasn’t them. I was different. So what?
He attacked savagely. He ripped the town apart, brick by brick, and when he was done there was nothing left. Just smoke and decay, the slightest hints of humanity gone.
dave! its the surname of this weird guy that lived dow nthe road from me. ginger, big nose. also means a person that is basically extremely blunt in opinions of people. some animals can be referred to as being savage, in the way they attack other animals.
out going nutty crazy, no limits
this young man is a savage he has no limits he is crazy and out going he gets things done
The beast emerged victorious from the sprawling landscape. The fences jittered as the electricity coursed through his opponents body. The cameras were focused on him, he knew
the crazy bastards that always kill me in skyrim and the flying deathmonkeys that rot in my dreams. savage is so like, two centuries ago. uuhhh uhhh uhhhhh warriors and crazy people with battleaxes!!!!!!!!!!
I see the savage in the mirror. I see it day in and day out. I can’t seem to get the image out my head. I’ll never be able to change the image…or ever lose the thought that I’m anything but one.
my best girl friend growing up had the last name savage, and she was the complete opposite. she was quiet and hesitant, i always had to convince her to climb the trees and kiss the boys. i hope she turned into something more like her last name.
They called him a savage. He had come down from the mountain’s edge, garbed in the furs of the animals he had taken with his hands and teeth, bones through his hair. He was an animal to them. He looked back, saw their waste, the furs and bones of his fellow creatures tossed aside like so much scrap, and wondered who the savages truly were.
He surely was a one. Dressed in bear skins and skulls, holding club with few sharp spikes. He was looking exactly like one of these berserkers from Norwegian mythology. Perhaps he was one, sure thing he was hell of a savage.
I started at the dog, slowly backing away. He looked like a hand-me-down. Why did I get stuck with him as my shelter pet? He growled and lunged towards me.Thank goodness the cage was between us. I said the worst insult I could think of.
“Savage.”
it was a savage blow to the psyche and raison d’etre, to be cast aside in one swift moment
Scuttling through the underbrush, covered in filth and mud and leaves, thrones scratching her sides as she runs, low and bent down. There are ferns permanently entwined into her ever-more matted hair, hair that used to be dyed a vibrant red but has faded and is now half brown and half a strange orangish shade that does nothing to help her blend into her surroundings. It’s okay, though, she hasn’t seen another human in months. Strange how it only took her a short collection of weeks to turn savage.
You savage beast. You must get out of here. You don’t belong here with us. Now go get before I take my hands and. No wait I can’t do this. You are my brother and I love you, but you do need to change.
“Savage Garden? I remember them! Their songs were so marvelously sappy.”
We were rummaging through our boxes and towers of CDs before Dad started the garage sale. Rhonda had uncovered several of her Celine Dion disks, while I had found my Backstreet Boy ones. We giggled like schoolgirls again as we searched.
“To think I occasionally still listen to all this,” I laughed.
To her he was a savage man , someone who needed rescuing ……. Yet she clung to hope that he would one day change for the better. Looking into the mirror she knew that she should have given up on that hope a long time ago. These painful bruises , black and blue on her face , trying her hardest to conceal them from the world…… When will this poor woman learn .
What a savage world the world we are living. Full of cruel people, full of hate. Savage people rule the world, dressed in dark suits.
Savage is not just how untrainted people act. It’s a way of thought. Even the most dignified can have a savage streak a mile wide. It’s in how he thinks, not in how he acts for thoughts are how a true person measures themselves.
I feel like google is a savage eating at my soul with all the changes it making. I am scrambling to keep the monster at bay and keep the flesh on my bones. It is winning.
The thing inside of all of us, ripping its way out. Savage. The cavernous blackness in the deepest of our beings.
Savage, tearing apart my soul. Not a likely disaster. ripping me apart.
beast in the jungle, crazy running wild shit, rawrawrwarawrawrwarwrwar, killing and cannibalism and stuff, animals, trees, coconuts, fruits, peeling the fruits, etc etc etc… barbarism, no social structure, no infrastructure, just crazy shit all the time, barbaric shit
A beast… the one within.
He claws at a surface.
Flesh tears.
Unleashed.
Savage
John Savage
Hair
Laurie Beechman
I remember first seeing her in Annie, singing “NYC.” Apt at the time. One solo moment, playing the part of the “Star to be,” that stole the show and got her seen. “Who the heck was that?!” everyone said. – There are no small parts ;)
Later I recognized her in the movie “Hair” singing “Black Boys”, and then she was pretty much everywhere. Great voice. Died during her prime – of life and her career I think. I remember her voice, her eyes, her hair…
Joseph… Cats… – Phenomenal.