Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
David Ehrgott Dec 2015
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
  
I know a lot of eve's and some get naked
But, I got drunk somehow after shopping and banking
Now I don't need no how on keep waking up wasted
I shot him in his brain and sliced his neck
  
I wacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
  
Now it's Christmas Day, I have him here
He's hung in my backyard.  Oh, what a deer!
Today's a holiday.  We'll serve what's near.
And Rudolph's venison will bring on cheer
  
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
  
I'm slicing jerkey
I'm slicing meat
I'm cutting steaks
I'm slicing lean
I cut his brains out
Threw them away
His guts and his *****
Have been turned into hay
  
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
Dreams of Sepia May 2015
Alas, poor venison salami, I knew ye well!
You were a dear, dear friend
But then you met your sorry end
at my fair cat’s royal command

I'll sing a dirge & sound the Bell
I'll tip my hat & say farewell
to your sweet, succulent delight
may we ne’er lose it out of sight.
You brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue,
Go, and subdue,
Whilst loit'ring hinds
Lurke here at home with shame.

Britons, you stay too long,
Quickly aboard bestow you;
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail,
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you.

Your course securely steer,
West and by South forth keep;
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,
You need nor fear,
So absolute the deep.

And cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice
To get the pearl and gold;
And ours to hold
Virginia,
Earth's only Paradise.

Where Nature hath in store
Fowl, venison, and fish;
And the fruitfull'st soil,
Without your toil,
Three harvests more,
All greater than your wish.

And the ambitious vine
Crowns with his purple mass
The cedar reaching high
To kiss the sky,
The cypress, pine,
And useful sassafras.

To whom the golden age
Still Nature's laws doth give,
No other cares attend
But them to defend
From winter's rage,
That long there doth not live.

When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,
Above the sea that flows,
The clear wind throws,
Your hearts to swell,
Approaching the dear strand.

In kenning of the shore,
(Thanks to God first given)
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then!
Let canons roar,
Frighting the wide heaven!

And in regions far
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom we came,
And plant our name
Under that star
Not known unto our North.

And as there plenty grows
Of laurel everywhere,
Apollo's sacred tree,
You may it see
A poet's brows
To crown, that may sing there.

Thy voyages attend
Industrious Hakluit,
Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame,
And much commend
To after-times thy wit.
Jerry Howarth  Jan 2022
Untitled
Jerry Howarth Jan 2022
TWO SELFISH BROTHERS
This is a story bout two brothers; the older one an outdoors hunter,
the younger a buiness man. Their Father's favorite son was the hunter, their Mother's favorite son was the businss man. These two brothers didn't get along too well with each other, and were always
competing against each other for the love of their Mom and Dad.
Now listen to a onversation between the Father and his hunter son.

"My son, as you know, I am very old and have not been feeling
too good these past few weeks. I could die any day now, but before
I do, I'd like to have some more of that tasty venison that you make, one more time before I die and I will make you number one in my will."

"Ok Dad" he replied "I'll go get my bow and **** a young deer and be honored to fix you a batch of venison meat."

"Oh and uh, son keep it to yourself about the will. I don't even want
your Mother to know about it and of course your big brother."

But some how his wife overheard the conversation and secretly told
the youngr son about her husbands plans, and so contrived a scheme to reverse the plans.

"Now that big brother of yours may know how to hunt, but he doesn't know a ten dollor bill from  a hundred dollor bill. You are the buisness man in our family, and would know how to invest and trade and increase the wealth of our family. So here is my idea. Go out to the goat pen and **** two of them; I know how to fix them to taste like that garbage that your Dad likes so well, and that way he will put you first in his will."

"Gee Mom, I don't know about that plan. For one thing Dad will not be able to see who he is talking to, because he is blind, but his smell is still real keen, and that would give it away that I'm not him. No, Mom I don't think your plan will work."

Mom: "Son, just do what I tell you to do. Ive got this all figured out. Now go out to the goat pen and ****, butchure and skin out two young goats. I know how to cook them so thy taste like that venison your brother makes for your Father; he will never know know difference."

So that's what the younger brother did, exactly as his Mother instructed him to do.

Son: "But Mom, Dad will know the difference between me and  my brother, by smell and touch. For ne big difference, I am of a smoth skind man wheras my brother is a hairy skined man, and in addition, dad will know by the smell between us. He smells like the outdoors and I smell like,  well not the outside, so what's your plans for those two things?

Mom: " I've already thought about those problems, son  and I am way ahead of you. As for the smell problem, you're going to be wearing his shirt and jeans and jacket, and for the touch problem
I'll just put some of the goat skin on your hands and arms and on your neck. He will never know the dfference between you and your
brother. So let's get going on this, before your brother gets back from hunting a deer and preparing the venison meal.

This next scene takes place with young brother feeding his Father the venison meal that his Mother made from the young goats.

Father: "Well you sure made good time, son; you were not gone long this time at all."

Son: "Well" (lied the  son) Dad, I prayed to your god for a quick ****,
and he answered my prayer and sent a deer right under me, and you know how acurate I am with my bow, so I pinned him right in it's heart. Because your god blessed me wth a quick **** I had more time to dress it and prepare my venison stew. Go on Father, dig in to it. I set it right in front of you."

The father had some doubts about which skn he was daing ith, and so he did a few proof checks befor e he sarted eating.

Father: "I sure appreciate your doing all this again for me. Step ovr to me and let me give you a big fatherly hug. Excuse me son, now don't take what I'm going to say to you wrong or take offence by it, but your voice doesn't sound your elder brother's, but you have his smell about you and are hairy.    
  
Father began to eat and commented about the delisciouse stue, saying how good it was, but noted a slight difference in the taste and mentioned his fact to is son.

Son: "Oh well, I put a slight diffrent seasoning in it, I thought you might like it". He lied again to him "What do you think? Do you like it?"
Son: "Uh Father, now uh, you said somethimg about making me the first son to inhrerit your uh, you know all or the largest...."

Father: "Oh yes, I did and I will. If you you go into my office, in he roll top desk, in the right hand little pull out drawer is a key that unlocks the safe, which is actually that large photo of me standing in a field of barley. Take that photo down and behind it is the safe. To open it you need to turn the spin lock all around to the left then....."

After  father completed explaining the safe lock numbrs, his son brought him the legal papers among which, one was the Birth Rite of the oldest son.

Father: "Son, as you know I am almost blind, so you will need to bng yor Mother in to write your name in the designated line."

Mother is more then willing to come into the office, and sign her youngest son's name to the legal papers, making him the sole owner of the entiyer family estate.....
AND THE ***** LITLE SCHEME WAS FNSHED.

You have just read the true story in modern conversationof Jacob stealing his older brother, Esau's Birth Rite, as recorded in
Genesis 27:1-29.

Now let's see what spiritual applications we can gleen from this account.

I. I see Spiritual Self Will
A. Both parants waned the sgame thing for their sons. Actually God's will was for Jacob to have the leadership n the family from the *** go
Larry B Dec 2010
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' as they tend to their stills

The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear

The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks

Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree

From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys

But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere

And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast

We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer

Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too

His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more

Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year


© All Rights Reserved
King  Nov 2018
venison
King Nov 2018
I’ve never been so cold
While lying next to you
I’ve lost that hand to hold
You watch my skin turn deathly blue

I am the venison
Left unwanted after the hunt
Still warm, sensitive
Dying in the cold front

I only wish I freeze peaceful
The snow covers me white
My death comes so blissful
As the moon overtakes the night

The hunters have left to kiss their women
Hug their kids and sleep soundly
While my decayed body is unwritten
And my spirit is ungrounded

Doe of the night,
Wisting away in the wind
The soul of The Taken takes flight
And finds his own ending
Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host's Canary wine?
Or are fruits of Paradise
Sweeter than those dainty pies
Of venison? O generous food!
Drest as though bold Robin Hood
Would, with his maid Marian,
Sup and bowse from horn and can.

    I have heard that on a day
Mine host's sign-board flew away,
Nobody knew whither, till
An astrologer's old quill
To a sheepskin gave the story,
Said he saw you in your glory,
Underneath a new old sign
Sipping beverage divine,
And pledging with contented smack
The Mermaid in the Zodiac.

    Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Larry B Dec 2010
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hills
The kinfolk were drinkin' as they tend to their stills

The longjohns were hung by the chimney with care
No stockings were found, just underwear

The children were nestled so high in their bunks
Their quilts made of skins from rabbits and skunks

Granny with her false teeth and gun on her knee
Was waiting for Santa as she sat by the tree

From out of the barn there arose such a noise
We thought it was Grandpa drinkin' with the boys

But what to my wandering eye should appear
It was just cousin Cleatus in mama's brassiere

And then from the rooftop we heard it at last
Like the sound of thunder or a shot gun blast

We have Christmas dinner, it's finally here
Granny kidnapped Santa while we shot his deer

Venison all covered with onions for stew
And even old Santa enjoyed some too

His belly was full when he walked out the door
But he couldn't resist when we offered him more

Well that's the story of our Christmas here
Merry Christmas to all 'til the same time next year


© All Rights Reserved
Alexis J Meighan Dec 2012
Knock knock
Who's there?
Mr.Harris
Mr. Harris who?


Mr. Harris whom lead women with elegance
Tied minds and hearts with verbal excrement
Pondered their looks as well as their flesh
Decided to touch which lead to a mess
For his brain and hands were shaky at best
Floundered around inside of their chest
Slicing and skinned the meat of the breast
The last thing they saw as they took their last breath
An extreme way to deal with life and its stress
Just a mad insane killer you couldn't reject.
Harris is the  man who is there at your door
Knock Knock! Who's there?  Not you any more.
Mr. Harris with blood on his shoes
Mr. Harass you that's who!
Love.
-Xin-

Jessica;
Behind close doors he was a cruel brute.
In the public view he smiled and spoke soft
Laid the trap with a simple hello.
Sprung it with a slash
Took his trophies and placed it in his stash
Tonight he stalk a petite country gal
A texan tone and expecting child
Brunette, fair skin and smile you could eat
Perky, quirky with dainty hands and feet
He sat in her car and stakeout her yard
Sneaked in her house while she bath and smelled her towels.
She was a standing appointment on his to do calendar
For 3 months he pondered how to handle her
Caress her flesh and kiss her toes
Asphyxiate! Hand over her mouth and pinch her nose.
Or
Suckle her perfect breast, brush her hair with short strokes
Look into her wide eyes, face to face, then slit her throat
She passed him on the train and he became,
Paralyzed by her fragrance, almost ashamed.
It became obvious, now that her baby bump showed
He had to **** her fast before it grew any more
And like that 9pm drew near and on his table she appeared.
She begged for her life but he didn't care "please I'm pregnant" I said I don't care
He chose option one for his method of ******
Soft and polite until life ignored her.
Now all left to do is to savor the taste of her essence
Then into the river and on to the next lesson
She was Jessica.
-Mr H.-


Bridgette:
This night his head ached, he sipped wine and ate
Clenched his brow and grunted and tried to concentrate
This night his heart ailed for a particular face
Some one he knew from a particular place
Blonde hair, tattooed skin and frequent bizarre encounters
A spunky one she was, always on an adventure
She constantly moved which made it a task to learn her
But he was persistent and eventually impaled her.
5 years he tracked her with laid roots just to leave again
He even befriended her friends. But nothing came through them
With every new home she kept, and new ink she bared.
He would be right there sharing her air.
A secret adoration, a crush, a unrequited love
He would scale walls to procure her safety and guard her till she was his alone.
Outside her window snapping photos and collecting her things
Setting coincidences and craving her limbs
He's sneaked in one night and restrained her to the bed
Counting her ink from her honey *** to the kissing undead.
Rubbing her hour glass and slicing through her haunted castle
Penetrating her clover and stabbing her dracula.
For she was his best creation.
He mourned as her flesh he torn
When it was all said and done every tattoo was massacred
Her body of work now a body of hurt
Bled out at the hands that knew her the most
From a distance so close from a distance so close
She was Bridgette
-Mr. H-

Jen:
She was so much more than a craving
More than a friend.
Its by accident that she met her end.  
They shared a bed, shared a home, shared there love
Now they share his secrets, but not her tomb
She stumbled on his collection of trinkets
And he confessed all thinking their bond and life together would lead to an exception
Shame on him, as to his surprise she screamed and grabbed a weapon
"who are you" she yell and ran to the door.
He screamed in response "I don't know but don't go"
Frantic she struggled with the door lock
Panicked he hit her face with the cutting block
Oops
She fell
So did his heart down his throat
This was his partner, his lover, his other half
In every day before his reason for life, his only plan
No way to recover this act of passion so he finished the job.  
Crying and kissing her asian lips
Squeezing her neck till she was gone gone gone.
She was Jen
-Mr. H-

Kaylani:
As he progressed and perfected his method
He broadened his pallet and obsessed on this venison
He heard her words sent men to their knees
Both in praise of her power and to lap at her Mahogany
She was clever and sharp like his finest cleaver
Voluminous in her cleavage, firm in her actions like a verb, Poison to her distractions
For him it was her words that overwhelmed his desires
Call to arms, yell to god,do my bidding and "I promise I'll be yours"
She wrote poems like he did, spoke truth like he do
Broke hearts like he could, and swept the world away like he should
He sent her a poem she accepted with joy
Blew her mind with crafts he assembled like schemes, plots, and ploys
She gave him a secret, he gave her a line
She confessed her emotions, he confessed a lie
She showed him her body, he shrugged and denied
She caved and gave more, he enslaved her with compliments, task and more endeavors
She wanted him so bad that for the first time she fell to her knees
He arose from his own. Succeed indeed
He gave her one night, yes one night
8 years of famine, for only one night
He kissed, massage, fingered and caressed
Demanded her mouth as he got undressed
His contact was of malice and encounter of a deranged mind
An anomaly of his needs, a poetic way to propel her demise
He entered her slow made her safe in his glow
Then with a wicked grin the nightmare did begin
He took control, pinned her down, put big things in small spaces
Made her a scream queen with no crown as he laughed and mocked her desperate faces
A little cut here and a little punch there he accepted her fear
On the night stand he had a special potion
A blend of deadly poison
Told her it would end once she breath no more
"Its your choice my dear" then made her scream some more
He took a break said he'll be back
Went to the kitchen to get a snack
"When I come back we'll start again"
Upon his return he gazed the beaten, ****** goddess
She drank her escape route, now she is lifeless
She was Kaylani
-Mr. H-
This is actually something I wrote for one of my close friends Justin Harris. His Birthday is on Xmas so I've been writing people stalker letters and death threats and signing them with his name and address.
Some may not see the humor in this but if you knew the dynamics of my friendship circles you would know that this is normal behavior for us.
Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones—
In fact, he’s remarkably fat.
He doesn’t haunt pubs—he has eight or nine clubs,
For he’s the St. James’s Street Cat!
He’s the Cat we all greet as he walks down the street
In his coat of fastidious black:
No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers
Or such an impreccable back.
In the whole of St. James’s the smartest of names is
The name of this Brummell of Cats;
And we’re all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to
By Bustopher Jones in white spats!

His visits are occasional to the Senior Educational
And it is against the rules
For any one Cat to belong both to that
And the Joint Superior Schools.

For a similar reason, when game is in season
He is found, not at Fox’s, but Blimpy’s;
He is frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen
Which is famous for winkles and shrimps.
In the season of venison he gives his ben’son
To the Pothunter’s succulent bones;
And just before noon’s not a moment too soon
To drop in for a drink at the Drones.
When he’s seen in a hurry there’s probably curry
At the Siamese—or at the Glutton;
If he looks full of gloom then he’s lunched at the Tomb
On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton.

So, much in this way, passes Bustopher’s day-
At one club or another he’s found.
It can be no surprise that under our eyes
He has grown unmistakably round.
He’s a twenty-five pounder, or I am a bounder,
And he’s putting on weight every day:
But he’s so well preserved because he’s observed
All his life a routine, so he’ll say.
Or, to put it in rhyme: “I shall last out my time”
Is the word of this stoutest of Cats.
It must and it shall be Spring in Pall Mall
While Bustopher Jones wears white spats!
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
The first shots slammed across the woods at dawn
Into my sleep, there taking down my dreams
Which can’t be slung into a pickup truck
And carried to the processors by noon

Venison is a bit gamey, of course:
That’s why they call it game, wild game, then food
Blended with pork and spices for Thanksgiving
And that’s a nice little dream in itself

Let’s not indulge sentimentality here
In forest glades or on china plates – it’s just a deer
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

My vanity publications are available on amazon.com as bits of dead tree and on Kindle:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.

— The End —