but no fellow-hyena could explain it
Raj Arumugam
Raj Arumugam
Nov 2, 2014

I went to this meeting
(when I was a kid)
of hyenas;
and the ritual
consisted mainly of laughing
and they laughed and they laughed -
you know, and I just didn't get it

I demanded an explanation -
but no fellow-hyena could explain it

everybody laughs
nobody knows why;
and now I am an adult hyena
and I just laugh -  it's something to do
with survival, I think

#laugh   #humour   #funverse   #hyenas  
Raj Arumugam
Raj Arumugam
Nov 2, 2014

I hate school
because teacher Giraffe is always
picking on me
in his high and lofty manner
He's always pointing at me
with his prehensile tongue
and snorting: "Maybe you'd
like to stop laughing
and share your joke
with the rest of animal class?"

But I don't know no joke;
I just laugh

Raj Arumugam
Raj Arumugam
Nov 2, 2014

it's woman power here
in the clans of the spotted hyenas -
the women are bigger and the males fear;
fathers are kind to daughters
so at least the daughters will be nice to them

so women really just give orders
and the male hyenas obey
with mirth and laughter

Did you take the garbage out?
yeah, ha, ha, ha, yeah, yeah, yeah
Did you put the toilet seat cover down?
yeah, ha, ha, ha, yeah, yeah, yeah
Have you mopped the floor?
yeah, ha, ha, ha, yeah, yeah, yeah
Is dinner ready on the ground?
yeah, ha, ha, ha, yeah, yeah, yeah

information in first stanza on spotted hyenas from wikipedia
*"Hyena - don't you dare laugh;
Raj Arumugam
Raj Arumugam
Nov 3, 2014

so King Lion
summoned us for a meeting
and King sat on his throne
and before he started
the King looked in my direction
and he roared:
"Hyena - don't you dare laugh;
here in Council what we deliberate over
is no laughing matter"

And I pissed in my pants
(in a manner of speaking)
and sat throughout the meeting
trembling in fear, as it seemed
to the King -
but also because I had to keep
my suppressed laughter
rocking in my tummy
throughout the meeting

final in my current series of hyena poems...
#humour   #funverse   #hyena  
what the hyena cannot kill
Paul Sands
Paul Sands
Apr 4, 2015

what the hyena cannot kill

it will steal

tallied on the gritted walls of our toil

their bounty cultivated from the nothing we now possess

and the bodies which must fall once their winter bites

no time left to wail and gnash

we must become as lions that rise

and grip the throat of this thieving class

you know who I'm talking about
#politics   #choices   #choose   #resist   #vote   #revolt   #rise-up  
Samuel Lombardo
Samuel Lombardo
Feb 15, 2015

Born into this world as an angel;
experiences unheard of and in defeat-
the mouth of outrageous roars and gel
grown in a circle of many feats.

There came a face filled with scars
the mind of unsure, bold, and assertive delusion
promotes such gratitude and mingled spurs
to run from me, run from such obsession.

The hyenas are so fake in their attitude-
their faces are like an abandoned building
with graffiti to cover their indecisive gratitude,
and pretentious illusions that yield bring.

In the dark valleys with only moonlight,
such attitudes and gloom of darkness
sets in motion the evil wariness and fight-
the lion flights into the cave of the barking mess.

Hyenas crave the deception to feed on lies;
and the lion's assertiveness frees from itself
the circle of dark redemption that proves his rise,
hyenas hide behind the masks on the shelf.

Hyenas are busy trying something new
whereas the lion still never gives up his path.
Hyenas are free spirited in the blues
while the lion is free from the hyenas wrath.

(Possible Chorus):
In the wrath of darkness, one is never satisfied.
In the light of the world, one can be magnified.
No matter what there is a circle of life
that once will be the door to wasted strife.
The light of the world, defeats the darkness of soul.
The assertiveness and protection will be whole.

A full day of poetry sounds good. Here is the first- could be a song later:
(My cover may be- Bad Crushes):

Written by, Samuel J. Lombardo- February 15, 2015 @ 4:36pm
Dec 11, 2014

under fate's predatory gaze we lie helpless as babes

Mar 9, 2010

If ever
there was a spark in mindless stupid
would it not be the ladies remarking
at scooped cut asphalt
jagged, freeing suffocated Terre?

the most fertile , the most thirsty.

Lush outside. inside the skin?
rancid repulsive desiccation,
a piquant impulse for escaping love.

Mouth's morning wift: gloomy, heavy, smoke.
Eyes: blurrr,
Memory: cashed
Framework: gaunt & yellow, a Purple cadaver among stern Circles, reflecting the Nausea of popularprice

Jun 24, 2014

The sweetest flower that blows,
I give you as we part
For you it is a rose
For me it is my heart

It is the heart that carries one to heaven?
Or the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked?
Who knows?

Mr. Hyena wondered and wondered;
Alexander K Opicho
Alexander K Opicho
Apr 10, 2014

The lion had just lost his dear wife,
Madam lioness a couple of years ago,
She was in the prime of her life,
When she succumbed to deathly udder cancer,
Mr. Lion grieved with all energy of the bereaved beast
To make it worse, he was also terminally ill
Of the vicious lung cancer, boring his windpipes,
That when he respired sweet music came out,
Like classical xylophones of eyeless Mehrun Yurin,

His sons were away commanding respective territories
Each son a territory in the order of traditional monarchy,
No one was to cook for the sick lion, don’t mention washing,
Hence the sons hired the squirrel alias madam Caroline,
She cooked as she did all other chores in the palace,
She was good in a concocting a matchless soup
From white mushrooms and cured goat’s meet,

As Caroline cooked she also sampled by tasting for her perfection
This little by little tasting made her to increase the strength,
Her skin became smooth, her buttocks swell
Her tail became shorter and steady, but very clean,
Her skin very oily and comely, exuding no evil smell,
Her walking style purged to majestic fashion
Even the type of songs she sang
Were not peasant spirituals,
Mr. Hyena wondered and wondered;
Is the squirrel pregnant?

Only to discover she was not,
But she has a new job;
Of cooking for the sick king lion,
Hyena also heard from the public domain
That she often cooks, goat meat and mushrooms,
But the ram tail twice in week; Tuesday and Sunday,
Jealousy and bigotry, malice and prejudice ganged up at once
And gripped the hyena simultaneously,
And swore to himself that come anything;
Spells of sunshine or blizzards of snow,
He must and must; root out the squirrel
From the palace kitchen,

That bright morning he went to the palace,
Singing a Christian song in praise of Lazarus,
Who resurrected from the dead,
He entered the palace still singing,
He commanded every to stand, put off the laurels,
For he wants to pray for the sick,
He made long and noisy circumlocutions of a prayer,
With regular stamping of feet and amen,
Commanding the devil of cancer to leave,
The lungs of the king, the mighty lion.

He said final amen and all sat down
Two sons of the king, the young lions,
Were all in somber moods, their father was sick,

From the kitchen, the squirrel surfaced,
With goats meat on a metallic platter,
He served the sick lion first,
Then each of them present,
On the first taste of food,
Hyena lost control of nerves
His tail jumped out of the white trouser
That he was wearing that day,
He ate voraciously with a crazy appetite,
No such delicious food had ever crossed his way.

He cleared his food first as expected,
Then he kept mum like a stooge,
Only wagging his long tail
His long tongue hanging out
Flagging in avarice like leaves of banana,
When all others stopped eating,
Hyena began in form of a question,
To which the lion’s family listened
Indeed with kingly caution;
Am asking you the king,
Why is Madam Caroline the squirrel,
Eating your food everyday,
And you are dying of a treatable disease,
To which she has the medicine,
Why is she betraying you?
To such a simple death?

All the lions plus the sick one
Jumped to the squirrel with all horror,
For the squirrel to bring the cure
Or the be killed first be the lion dies,
She pleaded for a minute to bring the drug,
Hyena in full gear of happiness
As his friend chews misfortune,

She blamed her small body size to be the  barrier
To bringing the medicine for king lion,
But nonetheless medicine was available,
Lions roared tell us! Where is the medicine?
In a soft voice the squirrel said;
The only cure for this disease of the king,
Is a fresh liver of a male hyena!

The hyena was frozen with surprise,
Like any other foolish bigot,
He begged to leave as his time was over,
No answer came to his request,
Other than abysmal darkness
Of violent death gulfing his body,
King lion drunk Hyena’s blood
In addition to the liver
On the squirrel’s instructions,
The lion became well
And began walking strong,
Out of this joy
King lion  promoted the squirrel
To be a minister of health
In the kings palace.

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