Brown Brown brown
A majestic salute
Of this **** on bone
Into my mouth
Irreverent despise
This effigious moment
Of makes my surmise
Of this meat from this plate
Surety tu sate
It's Satan's will
In deep do I swill
Of all the kingdom's fawn
Fauna's adorn
Adorn ornate
From the midth of my plate
Into my bellies belie
Belittle my sweet tooth
From tooth suit sooth
The feel of my carnivorous desire
And it's encroach
To ****** from the animal kingdom
A bane or benign male
Or of femality
A skinned creature or scaled
Once skinned then scaled
To the nth of my teeth
From it's evolutionary course
To my 'mmms' whence eat
"I farm therefore I am"
My requite
My requiem
It's internment within my duodenum
If we as homosapien
We're a little lower
Of the evolutionary ladder
A little closer
To the whipchuk and adder
Perhaps this incongruity
Would seem of insurmount
That we would not take from the platter
Of that skitter skatter
Of paws and of hoof
Of feather and of scale
For it not our right
To interrupt the plight
Of species cultural agare
And of universal development
Of ******* disposition
And it's extant
Perhaps we'd be more likely
To drop a tear
Than a longe long of langue
A salivating spittle
Like the whistle and the sizzle
Of that press upon the plate
Of heated black iron
The steam and the vapour
Testament to the savour
To the saviour of the meal
As any connoisseur can tell you
Unless they alien to meat
The saviour of the meal
That muscular tender form
That reared from the twinkle
To the wink
The seed met it's drink
The phoetus
To the expressed
******* delight
This formling's fledgling plight
As it's eyes burn to new light
Of its heart and marrow and sinew
All fodder to our ensue
Of it's marriage to this world
Now married to our plate
Its existence to sate
Our sensory intuition
And if questioned
The lesser the tuition
Of salt and fat to the sate
Of blood and metal to the taste
Of bone and cartilage the waste
Unless hungry enough to chew
And **** it's marrow clean
And this meal
As if adieou
Of all memory
Of that beast's sense
Of this reality
And this brown brown brown
The king and capital of plate
And our position upon the evolutionary ladder
A little less seemingly madder
Of this culture of interrupting culture
For the satisfaction of our tongue
And of this insanity
Most seemingly insane
Shall affirm of our humane
As our cultural attest
To the other species detest
That the brown brown brown
Be a salute
From fork to mute
Of our common humanity
For whose going to stop us
The birds or the bees
And this brown brown brown
Be the flag of the humanity we wear
From infamy of mind
To the pork and the pear
Laid bare
Upon our shirt or lapel
Surely if we are to grapple
With ideas of genocide's justification
It's after picking the brown fibre
Of a pig's won't to pork
Upon your new shirt
With a clean silver fork
Or after dessert

It is not the lion
or the wolf
you should fear.

It’s the howling storm
that breaks the chains
you hold so dear.

The attitude that shatters
all those sacred matters
which add up to
nothing but junk food
for the human mind.

All those
restrictions
you let others impose,

all those
pathways
they told you
were not the right way to go,

the ones you knew
led to a brighter day.

I was not made
to devastate
the mental state
of hearts enslaved
by the corporate government
that barely pays minimum wage.

Destiny, was not laid before me,
I just happen to acquire
a brain that desires
to explore everything.

Fear is just the tool
used to cower fools.
Curiosity is what we all need,
to generate unlimited diversity
of dreams, scientific discoveries,
and great stories.

It will give us the power
to write new lights of insight
into our current reality,
opening up unknown possibilities,
and better ways to elevate to a higher state of free,
instead of the capitalistic prison and religion some love
that calls itself democracy.

a man scratches the
remains in the pan
the metal spoon and
its touch makes the
pan beg for mercy and
the man for more

"may men move mansions
in the magic of their mistresses"
a song plays in the background

a canvas waits for him to stop and
start smudging

a woman across
the street in her balcony
leaves the last two
drags of her cigarette
and fills the water in
the ashtray to extinguish
the smolder
incensed,
goes back into the walls

there's no one to
caress the moon tonight
and the cats gonna weep till
the sun wakes up the dogs

then the man washes the pan
and as soon as the pan dries up completely,
hunger stealths in again
like a sad mouse to a broken trap

the woman got goosebumps
and she closes her window
thinking that it was because
of the winter breeze outside

I'd like to read a poem
Written by our world;
In any style, it won't matter:
A sonnet or an ode?
In rhyme or free verse?
Figurative or Found?
But, and this is critical,
The world must write it
To help heal our wounds,
Share our victories and good values,
And expose us in mixed metaphors
In all our human frailties.
It's a poem we'll all understand.
And each spot on Earth,
Every country that's birthed,
Adds a personal verse.
Allow me to read this poem
To all our nations,
With a theme to unite us
As the one and only human race.

It is the supply
Receipt of the followings
Ecological security,
Social and emotional security, and  
Economic security!
These supply are conditional
With the followings
Passion for naturalism and nature stewardship,
Care for humanism,  
Ready to co-exist with diversity,
And minimalism!
Total Cost for supply is
World with stable equilibrium linking to steady state
With additional taxes for negative externalities
And subsidy for positive externalities!