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  Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
I just needed to feed this hunger
To get my fill
I was so dam
Tired,
Exhausted,
Hungered
For that last mouthful
But I am on borrowed time
I couldn't be that which I wanted to be
The hunger was getting
Greater.
Borderline,
Insanity
Fed upon my thoughts.
Was I in control of my destiny.
Could I avoid this hunger within me
I was taking my last mouthful
"Eyes watered"
"Mouth filled"
"One last time"
I had done this a few times
I rejected the coldness that would
Follow,
Silence,
Regret
Had eaten away as I know this is
"The last mouthful"
I ingest the copper, it tastes
Like a coin ****** too long,
Freedom from this hunger that needed to be **fed.
  Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
He feels the tightness it presses upon
His appendages, all that was free
Now tightly
Wrapped,
Buckled,
Harmful*
Ways kept beyond his reach
He is in
"Feathers of insanity"
They keep his wings solidly
In place, for with them open
"They would expand"
Cutting,
"Upon his flesh"
Cutting,
"Upon his madness"
Cutting,
That which is a reflection seen,
"Gouged out"
Blind to the madness consuming he,
But this was
Rambling,
Delirium,
Delusions
Of a now tattered mind
He would forever be
In the purity of the jacket
"Pristine and padded bright white"
Lost in that shattered place, the landscape of his **mind.
  Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Joe Cole
Like I said there's to much going on
You know Mucro not everybody can be as good as you
In fact not everybody wants to be
I read here that quality is not what it used to be
So what! Surely the fact that people are posting is enough
Criticism well we all know my views about that
I would much rather read twenty poems
Simply written, easily read
Than one poem with words I barely understand
People write, people read and therefore become better
Writers in time
I have never have made any pretence that I'm a brilliant poet
Simply because I'm not and I know my own limitations
And some people enjoy what I write
Its not all about getting a following, popularity
People I've never heard of comment on what I write
We don't all have the brilliant education
We don't all have the flare and gift of language
What we do have is the right to post without undue negative criticism
That is what democracy is all about
Obviously the bigger following a poetry site gets
Then the greater the differential between the brilliant
And the not so brilliant
I have to be honest, I get fed up with reading about self mutilation
About people wallowing in the depths of despair
But I accept that it is their right to write and post
I've had my say
Stop the *******, it's not needed
  Jan 2015 Paula Lee
Poetic T
Farmer Tom,* fell on times hard,
Needing to feed the animals because
Scrawny
Emaciated
Anorexic
Animals wouldn't get much.
So on the black market, cheap feed
"Not For Human Consumption"
That was good enough
For farmer Tom.
He thought he would try it on the
Chickens first,
"Buck, Buck, Buck"
Scratching of fifty little feet,
Breakfast,
Lunch,
Dinner
They looked as before
"Plucky little egg laying machines"
Still hungry
Wait till morning my feathered friends.
Night set upon the surroundings
Farmer Tom
Woke,
Startled,
Confused
What the?? Slippers, dressing gown,
Shotgun loaded,
"Tip toe, tip toe tip toe"
"Bang"
"Mary mother of joseph"
"That dam dog and his toys"
"Ok safety on"
The yard was silent, except for
a noise faint but heard
"Buck, buck Aahhhhh"
Farmer tom curious of this noise
Listening with ears Focused
Came to a sight of horror
Chickens pecking
The eyes out of blue bell
Mooooooooooo,
Then cluck
Mooooooooooooooo,
Then cluck, Aahhhhhhhh,
Then misfortune,
"SNAP, CRUNCH"
As 42 feet turned,
Eyes red as crimson
Feathers matted, and that smell
Decaying cow as bell got up
"Moooooooooooo, Aahhhhhhhh, cluck,"
"Father Jims tunic"
As Bell swayed towards *farmer tom,

Little feet carried in the hole in bells gut,
"MOooooooooo"
"Cluck"
Mooooooooooo
"Cluck"
Fa­rmer Tom ran for his dear life,
Past the chicken coop
Where blood soaked remains
Of those unlucky chickens, parts rancid
As the head of a chicken looks up as I run past,
Doors locked, windows too,
What the hell is that noise??
As a rancid chicken comes though the dogs door
"Kentucky this mother cluck, cluck err"  
The last thing it did before I sent it too hell
Laid an egg,  green and sour,
"What the hell was in that feed"
Out the back he ran, bag in hand
Zombie
Meat
Danger
Incineration is required,
"Zombie meat?? what the blue blazes"
As he runs to the house
Whoosh, above his head
As the house once home, erupts a fiery death ,
Tom see's Bell surrounded
By gents in suits
Moooo, Aahhhh, Cluck,
"Excuse me sirs"
"What the frigging heck is going on"
They fry bell on the spot, Mmm burger
"Snap out of it man"
As the chickens peck upon a suit
As he screams fallen to the ground
Pecked to death, but death just woke up.
Tom runs in slippers as they set upon the pecked man
"Tom keeps on running"
"Tom  keeps on jogging"
"Tom keeps thinking I'm too old for this"
He hides in the old barn five miles away
Waits there for days too scared to come out
Then on the fifth day he treads carefully not to be seen
He sees a house, see's a coop and chickens
Cluck,
Cluck,
Mooooooo
All around is heard, as he runs a round
Bell is that you, you got more spots
"Interesting"
The house as it was beter some how.
Too this day Farmer
Tom tells tales,
To those who listen,
"The Night of the dead Cow and The Zombie Chickens"
And how the government blew his house up
And then built him a better one, hell I wouldn't moan now.
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