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Ken Pepiton Apr 9
The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.
Cute pigs in Haifa,
where bacon is known
as too delicious to eat.

Built on the side of Mt. Carmel,
a secret garden with a magical side,
{In that neotenic frame of mind that allows cute pigs.}

Pigs can swim. Legion told me

NY Times, digest, chewitchewit
The wild boars of Haifa, best news I heard today.
NY Times digest human interest piece today. HAIFA, Israel — The wild pigs of Haifa might not fly, but they seem to do almost everything else.
Music is a spiritual tongue,
Find someone to talk to,
Bless us with the revelation,
The sound is huge.

Flying fish fill the sonic space,
A classic romance,
Through and through,
You're beautiful,
You're handsome,
And you're a cad.

Creation has a place for everything,
Life's lesson is surrender, so let it go,
Go with the flow,
Like it as it is,
Push past the fear.

Here we go,
Here we go,
Here we go.

Here we go,
Here we go,
Here we go.
BOOM!
The key to impromptu freestyle music, Writing, art and other things
Valentin Busuioc Oct 2020
besides memories
a piece of meat is all I have left
from our last pig

it is in the freezer
it is the right hind leg

last summer during the solar flare
there was a blackout
that lasted for two days

one by one
the fowl, the ducks and the plums thawed
and I threw them away
but the big pork leg
remained frozen

whenever a solar flare is announced
I put it in the cooler bag
and take it with me on trips

the hardest is when I bring it home
I do not know why
from one trip to another
I can barely fit it in the drawer

so I cut another slice
not much
just so I do not forget
how I called its name
and it ran up the hill to me
grunting happily

how it chased mother around the yard
when she beat me up
and as a reward
I gave it the best apples
those for the apple pies

but most of all
how I held its hind leg
when they slaughtered it
and it did not struggle for a minute
until I let it go
seeing each other
crying
Felicia Atanasio Sep 2020
East Moriches to Riverhead
my soda splashing on the entire front half of the car
the cup holder like a vast valley
yet a pig pen as the can meets constant dead ends
fenced in

I could drive back and forth on this stretch of land
without so much as glancing up
most days never remembering how I got there

I didn’t care if the alternative happened either
never arriving
never traveling
ever again
Tom Salter Jul 2020
Through the drawn kitchen blind lurks a hand
Resting upon the island mantelpiece
Where a deserted ham resides.
The hand extends from the crippled man’s gaze
And he simply seizes the ham, traversing the kitchen maze.
He takes the ham to the second stair.
Here is where he retires - the second stair
Is where the deserted ham and crippled man shall expire.
Where man becomes ham but retains his crippling attire, and
Ham becomes man staying lost and yet still desired.

Heaven would be naive to willingly believe that this,
This strange analogy, is indeed about a ham and a mere man.
Rather, a man is nothing but a mere ham.
His life begins as someone else, perhaps a pink perfumed piglet.
Born into mud and stuffed to the brim with dirt laced love.
A ham, like man, comes from a humble and simple dawn but is
Swiftly thrown into a larger lie or a shortcrust pie.
A lie of paradise and quiet, a pie of mustard and thyme.
We, like the ham, are ripped from our genesis
And forced to be something sublime.
Something needed,
And something that never gets the time to bleed.

Man is to be consumed just like the solemn ham.
We are sold as ideas and ideals. And never separated
From those very same stale ideals and ideas.
We are what we conceive and we conceive what others
Wish us to be; never do we truly conceive our own reality.
And often we will wait aimlessly, not at the kitchen side,
But by the side of our lovers and others.
The resting ham sits in its juices, taking in the rosemary
And amber, sticky honey.
Man also sits in an array of flavour; tastes of dark thoughts,
Fleeting romance and persistent boredom.
We soak up our own shortcomings and we leak out all and any
Chances to not be eaten.

Man is devoured not by others but by reason.
The very tool we use to debate, learn and
Understand the ever changing seasons.
But what of the ham? The deserted tasty ham.
Well, it like man, is either shovelled into a waiting gut or
Left out to rot, and befriend dust.
Never to decide when they cease, but both
Are destined for the grave nonetheless.
What has left the man crippled and the ham deserted?
The realisation that man and ham are the same.
Man leaves the ham to rot
On the kitchen counter top, sending it to be removed
From the world. Never to be consumed. Never to be consumed.
Man’s neglect of the ham is a neglect of connection,
Man has crippled himself in hopes to remove association.

And so, the crippled man
Extends his hand in hopes
To regain the deserted ham.
Sabika H Jun 2020
Pigs carry giant whips
and shoot bullets
and spray their spit
at bats.

Bats fly and bump into rats.
Rats claim they are cousins
yet eat some bats and
become poisonous in their speech.
Bats cry out that everyone can have
a slice of the freedom cake
take one piece each.

Rats are hungry
because there's a hole in their tummy
so they tell the pigs to steal the whole cake.
Bats bat their eyelids to the darkness
realizing their alliance
was fake.
Anastasia Apr 2020
Taffeta watches the pigs atop the tables
Glass eyes and stitches where they're enabled
Guts pumping crimson liquid
Sewing 'em up, she's addicted
Family and friends recommend she withdraw
She responded with a twinkle in her eye and a dropped jaw
Scissors and string, that's all she'll need
Besides a corpse, of course, and a bit of stuffing
Lilac eyes affixed on a tattered pillow
Enjoying watching a weeping Willow
Her poor Porky pet has met his end
But everyone knows you can depend
Before your sweet pet starts to smell
On Taffeta's Taxidermy to stuff 'em well
Inspired by a randomly generated word prompt, which brought my mind to a song by Teddy Hyde, Terry's Taxidermy.
I'M A FULL TIME *****.
A ******* *****.
A WORTHLESS PIG WITH NOTHING IN STORE.
NO SURPRISES,
NO LIFE,
NO MORE.
I HAVE NOTHING.
I AM A FULL TIME NOTHINGLESS *****.
For: Huxley Densen, Jenny Thoma
FloydBrandon Dec 2019
Taxider-me good when I expire.
Stuff me like a ****** pig
Hang me over mantle fires,

Hunt me like a brain dead
Redneck ******
White hot wet tire
Lead sock dumpster fire,

Shotgun **** boy
Decoy duck faced
Killjoy.
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