"breeders" poems
I sing of life at state expense
a state devoid of common sense
addicted to obesity
impolitic in body weight
yet headed for austerity
as other people’s money ends
plebeian class-revolt transcends
our bureaucratic history.
They stack the monthly welfare decks
complain the service second-rate
those sullen clients, thankless louts
pajama-clad with tattooed pouts
whose girlfriends swell while babies cry;
the fathers mumble, sagging high
and wait in lines. The women try
to fool the lunar period
conceptions waxing myriad
while teenage dads discover ***
and social workers cash the checks
the daily urban nightmare is
enough to scare a nation broke
in clouds of marijuana smoke:
the cashless global mystery.
The breeders born in tropic lands
are tempted till they take the bait
no baby-momma understands
what family means, what life demands
Your undertakers overstate
in order to remunerate
your Democratic history:
a bankrupt urban mystery
the not-so-Great Society.
The ghetto sperm-donation ploy
makes babies but maintains the boy
to run around from mom to mom
slow-motion population bomb
as if to merely demonstrate
that social program funders wait
till number-crunchers aggravate
the urban teenage welfare state.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
Silence
Can be oh
So
Many
Things.
But
If I had to pick
One word
To describe it
That word
Would be:
Deadly.
Silence
Is full
Of screaming
Assassins
Silence
Is filled
With hurrying
Scurrying
Thoughts
Incessantly
Screaming
Destroyers of peaceful days
And once sleep filled nights
Killers of dreams
Breeders of nightmares
Silence is
Loud
Silence
Is full
Of Screams
And cries for help
All unheard
By outside ears
Silence
Is full
Off every mistake
Put on Repeat
The ultimate broken record
Every single
Could've
Should've
Would've
Come to think of it,
I've never
Heard anything
Louder
Than silence
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
Elusive, mystifying, soft wind sighing,
No stomachs bloating, no children wailing,
No souls sailing,
No fathers beating, no mothers screaming,
Ever dreaming,
Perfect world,
Dreamland.
Satisfying, clear water flowing, clean air blowing,
No tainted blood, no children missing,
No killers hissing,
No hate-torn lands, no bombs blasting,
Peace everlasting,
Perfect world,
Dreamland.
Death defying, careless breeders, self-serving leaders,
Power plays, strategic dancing,
All life chancing,
Ultimate pact, malevolent mushroom clouds,
Vaporized crowds,
Perfect world....
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 11:37 AM UTC
This is not atrocity
This is the basement
This is the sea receding like lips to reveal tooth-like shells
Amongst the bullet casings and corpses felled leaving the boats
This is the sand like an inverted moat around the
Kingdom at sea, and this is the Remainder.
Yet they remain jubilantly-
Is this what being jubilant means?
Chamomile anklets adorning a hanged child.
This is not atrocity,
Ignorance wielding pitchforks and fire.
Anger alight and hostility riled
This is not atrocity.
This is not far from this reality;
Remember this child-
And the mob piled like tinder on themselves
Convincing carrion feeders
And unimpeded breeders that
Halt the march of science that
This is not atrocity.
The certain hot song by which Earth is greeted
Has an immediately recognizable tune.
And
This is not atrocity;
It sounds more like ****** ******
But I can't hear it
And I have no fear anymore
I open my eyes to another routine killing, and I know-
This is atrocity-
But a necessary one.
It's hardly enough to stay alive
And as I and we strive for
Money and coffee and love,
I and we let
atrocity
enter us.
Climb into us like a hand does a glove,
or a puppet.
It is not nature;
Nor fate;
And one needn't be dead
to appreciate the ability to open the senses
and actually sense.
And this,
I am certain,
Is not an atrocity
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
“We have pulled the trigger”
We the generations
who have inherited
mankind’s death throes
must be accepting
of the death sentence
we have posted
on
our children
“So enjoy the life you have left”
Global warming
brings evermore
unpredictable
jerks-and-jumps in
climate change.
Now melting ice caps
and glaciers may
trigger
huge volcanic eruptions
and
the cloud
from which mankind
cannot be saved.
“You can’t save the planet”
Who is trying,
arrogant lawyer-ed politicians?
Meat eaters?
Breeders and owners of dogs?
Petrol heads?
Supermarket shopaholics?
You?
*"Enjoy the blue sky -
whilst you can"*
.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC
They say that offspring resembles the breeders
both physically and mentally
but when I speak their faces darken
and when they speak I get upset.
I resemble them physically
but you can not tell that I am their daughter
if you look at us mentally.
Every conversation is a battle.
My father is the textbook conservative.
Pro-life and pro-guns
Anti-gay and microagressive.
How am I his daughter?
My mother is a follower.
A doe to her deer.
A foe in my fears.
How am I her daughter?
Standing 5 foot 8 in a pair of slacks
instead of a dress there's me.
The feminist.
The human rights activist.
My father calls me a communist.
My mother thinks I'm crazy.
I'm not a communist but a libertarian.
Funny how that's confused.
I march on in my combat boots.
My mother disapproving.
My father asking me if I just came back
from a Pearl Jam concert.
I march on with my feminist ways.
Spreading the word of equality as often as I can.
Telling the micro-aggressors to stop.
Questioning the Christians and the anti-gays.
I march on with my sense of style.
I don't care if I don't look feminine today.
I don't feel feminine today.
My mother's shaming me in the distance.
I march on with my tattoos and choppy hair.
My mother crying and my father angry.
They are anti-tattoo and anti-individualistic.
I don't deserve their shame.
I march on with who I am.
Because although I am their offspring
they can not change who I am.
No matter how hard they try.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
We are the ***** purveyors of other peoples lives
renouncing the living breathing beating heart
in exchange for another photo of craft ale
and home-cooked food with a foot note description
as if it would fill our bellies and sate our hunger.
We are the dark wave tsunami of digital information
waxing lyrical about that holiday in Spanish sunshine
and a rant about car parking attendants and traffic jams
rather than the outstretched palm to jaw caress of realness
instead we line up perspectives of another bottle of wine.
We are the breeders of the optic L'enfant terrible
gorging on the memories of other worlds in 140 characters
snap shots of the life we could have had outside of the screens
the spineless automatons of digitized free love
the could've been, would've been lumbering electronic has-been.
We are the tumultuous storm rising fighting against the unknown power
we unite to save bees and coral reefs
and explore the concepts of actually doing something humanitarian
all we need do is sign the petition before the 11th hour
and be one of the thousand voices saying:
NO. We won't take this any more!
We are the saviours of our time and the rescue merchants of lost dogs
imbibed by Scrabble and Candy Crush weaving the elusive like a band aid
the tapestry of memes and images of cute kitteh's in boxes
chasing the shadows of reality on a stick for kicks
and all the while the moon is out there somewhere shinning her light
glorious silver light etching through the hash tag of cloud formations.
We are no longer what we thought we were. We are each other.
A haemoglobin gelatinous mass of misinformation and forgotten dreams
You are not alone. Even if you wanted to be,
my friend, my sister, my lover, my brother
quoting movies as if it were an inner wisdom speaking in tongues.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
#
There are six ways to die on my table top
There are four ways to get lost in my cupboard
There are seven men drowning in my bottom drawer
There’s a coma above the ceiling fan
and an incinerator under my covers
Under the bed is a mouse trap
In the sink is a death trap
In the gap between the walls
is the most appalling noise
and my radio produces
only the frantic breaths of fitness breeders
The tortured hide under my pillow
(though they belong in my ears)
The glass in the window is made
of the slowest distorting tears
(I never produced them)
The carpet covers my blood
My clothes are covered in sod
The wallpaper hides my dreams
and my dreams have spilled at the seams
I collect masks that are the person I hid
Where do I sit ?
The door is a lid
The room is too warm
Enclosed
An expanding balloon
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 11:40 PM UTC
this past week the cattle sale went very well
all the vendors were keen and eager to sell
the buyers had loads of money for purchasing
they bought over six hundred cows for breeding
record sales such as this are rarely seen about here
the buyers always reckon the cattle prices appear to be dear
but the auctioneer was sweating for quite a while
he sold many pens of cattle with a beaming smile
all in all the sale day was a successful affair
everyone who attended were glad that they were there
this sale will go down in the history books for sure
cattle changed hands quite literally by the score
the next sale is scheduled for the seventh of May
and the district cattle breeders can't wait for the day
sellers will be hoping that the prices keep following an upward trend
and that there will be a goodly amount of cattle penned
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:51 AM UTC
I'm sick and I'm tired of these men always tellin me
I gotta be round, ***** curvy and sultry
To be down with the boys I must want all the novelties
They fantasize about in their minds, sprinkled with misogyny
Lookin up and down, undressin me with droolin eyes
Can't walk across busy streets without feelin victimized
Violated in public, creeps sneakin peaks up my skirt
All cause I wore tight clothes with a lower cut shirt
Is this all I am, some delectable tasty treat?
Just cause you think I'm delicious don't mean I want your meat
I'm vegetarian now, keep your distance please
Only hungry for life and creativity
Yearnin to grow and continue to educate
Myself even if that means makin mistakes
Already have media fillin my brain with these lies
Don't need to be feelin your hands up my thighs
No I'm not your girl, don't even wanna look at you
Cuz you'll misunderstand my glance for bein into you
So what if you call me a ***** or a ****
Don't care-I won't be the chick bustin your nuts
Just want my mothers and daughters and sisters to know
We're not created to give men any type of show
We're human beings capable of thinking and feeling
As well as making decisions, we have a purpose, a meaning
Other than getting all **** and appealing
Silenced and bogged down by society
Women ***** and murdered, blamed for their femininity
It's a shame men don't realize without us they would never be
We're the only *** on this earth capable of maternity
As breeders of life we nurture and care
Yet our voices seldom heard, like we're not even there
It's time women put a stop to this ****** up** ideology
That we matter far less than our male counterparts - what equality?
Hating on feminism just because they don’t see
This world overflowing with double standards and ongoing dichotomy
Between the two sexes- sure it’s not how it used to be
But sexism runs rampant and will for eternity
Unless we all - men and women - fight against it globally.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
Mile after mile
the endless motorway
spews out its metal contortions
hum your V6 engine
rock with impatience
under branded lime-green
sun strip protectors
brimming with breeders
of brooding black BMWs
7-seater convertible prowess
gleaming off-roaders
go faster striped boy-racers
silver slick steamroller Range Rovers
revving executive supremacy
nestled annoyingly
behind a Grand Jeep Cherokee
all stop in motion
by a pedestrian button
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
So many people
in so many cars
gas guzzling
un-muzzled bulldogs
drooling to be first
the excesses of acceleration
the freedom to roam
to gloat or to garner
well you can all stay in line
with the press of a button
and a finger like mine
Moses in green spandex
parts the Metal Sea
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC
Fluid swapping
Touching and Grabbing
And Starry eyes
You call it 'love'
I call it reproduction
I don't want to see
The way generations
Form up each decade
Keep your mating
Behind closed doors
Including the dating
The mating-call-dance
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
The desperate are animals under the moon
howling infrequently, incest-breeders. I, a part of
the thousand fragrances they simmer upon –
my mouth around a tree trunk that rots
in summer, boiling like eggs or water for tea.
God loves me, he loves me not.
I know I have broken my promises to Heaven –
disappointment lavishes me in aches so velvet
I swear I could make a coat from them.
We scream for womanly voices and pictures on a
wall of mothers kissing or showing a breast,
the ****** is pink. I melt inside my head.
Every morning we scavenge for the same sun –
bright under the glass, soon no one is loved.
Not even my brother hands me his tongue –
when he does, it parishes to black soil
and I pretend it is my child. She has hair just like
us, when she is happy, when she is well.
I rock her until the wolf-hollers halt,
my skin is her mansion. Her sprinkles on me are
as thick as grime doused the door for company
welcome here, she is warm as she is alive
though she didn’t come from inside me, my eggs.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
it is small and has
a coat of fur
on this fact we'll
all concur
a dozen or more
were kept at the lab facility
where a researcher was
testing their reasoning capability
these animals are prolific
breeders
they're extra-ordinary
off spring seeders
they can be problematic
to growers of grain
many years ago there was
an infestation on the western plain
if you see them running
around your house
you'll say unto yourself
them critters ain't grouse
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 7:05 PM UTC
Over the geyser,on beds of algae they rest.
A bunch of breeders.
Millions of them.
Bugs and mites that thrive.
Predatory bugs lay scrumptious eggs,
Eggs become grubs, all munch the algae,
Algae is chiselled away, chewed by hungry grubs and mites.
A stream of blistering roasting water, wipes them out again.
The cycle of life resumed!
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
Crooked nose,
**** pose.
I want to strip you past your pantyhose,
and prove
how much I love you.
It's extreme:
this feeling you're giving me
like someone's on my team
and I'm on my knees -
begging you not to leave;
screaming, gleaming,
shining, whining,
we're playing this sing song game,
winning,
weaving your words to my innards.
Dancing,
spin her.
glorious spirals and swirls,
you look at the girl
like she's beautiful,
even when your eyes are on her evil.
I am the church,
will you be my steeple?
We can be the pretty people,
better even,
antichrists.
Will you be my wife?
No.
That's little ****
we're bigger even.
Past the dimension of tension;
free to learn the lessons
of each others' teachers.
We can be world leaders
or animal breeders,
silly kissers,
fishermen.
I'm just wishin' you're with me,
every moment is waiting for you
to kiss me.
Even when it's happening,
I'm missing you
'cause I want to live inside your chest cave.
Closer.
Closer.
I'll gladly be your slave.
Slay me.
Take me away.
I want to be the game you play.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
Technology in upheaval my beer is full.
*** fills my mind with pheromones while half my hand goes limp.
I can’t feel, and nobody can feel me.
This perplexing relationship is mute resting in a lull.
I go away soon. My brain sees the afternoon and never more sooner do I go lunar.
It’s a language fight, who has the right, I might, with delight I entice the ever bloated fat cat with money scats coming from three throngs of bludgeoning
It’s turning into a symphony you seeing me, me seeing me, you seeing you, you blowing who. ******* the dmca from the caves of *** filled futures of virus infected tri-elected future tumor leaders.
**** the breeders! Heaters is what I have, ******* for the slave pit to go desolate into it, feeling the kit in it my slit, that which you lick. I hit and quit with quite the light of resolution and destitution upon your innovations of new year munitions.
It’s a ******* mind game, stop asking and stop doing the same.You have it [answers] in your hearts.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
I may never know the reasons of the storm that passed my way.
Or the multitude of questions that lay at bay.
They await to pounce upon me like jungle cats at night,
while the din of distant drumming tests my might.
Ever now and then I get a glimpse of who I am,
and I feel myself evolving into man.
Amid the single bars and credit cards and reaching for the ring,
I close my eyes and realize I'm here to do one thing........ I'm here to sing.
I'm strung out on evaluation of what my life is worth,
and struggle with the narrow distance between death and birth.
They say love is never wasted, words so easily said,
so why is this empty feeling, still laying in my bed?
Hurry Darwin, hurry. I need a double dose of time.
To quickly re-arrange these chromosomes , to make me more the prime.
Selectors and Breeders are really all we are.
Evolvers; Some will still be cheaters, and some will still set the bar.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
I remember your cruel love
The first time you said you loved me
The first time you led me down the stairs
There was nothing in you I wanted
But naive young girls do naive young things
Your words were like gifts
Your gifts were like a song
I blindly sang along
Trusting you was easy
But you proved me wrong
I'm cruel in my heart, I know it
But it's what you planted for me
Your mean hands ripped open my chest
You buried something so ugly and dark
So deep it bled into my soul.
Something inside of you was broken
Something was breaking inside of me too
I think of you now and my hands lock up
I hope you have all daughters
I hope they date men like you
I hope it breaks your heart and kills you.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Shadows of blood pooling below,
Echoed in his eyes, far above,
Fears lay on the land, blue-black crows.
He takes in mem'ries of the feelings of men,
His unfortunate creations, conceivers of sin,
Breeders of the evil, breathers, 'o lungs broken!
Hot tears on his golden cheek,
So many fell, the evil grows,
He cries for the fallen, the robin's broken beak.
In this time of the rise of the fear,
Uplifted evil, earth-thick dark,
Clashing cries of sorrows, no silence to hear.
Blood seeps from the earth,
The mother weeps,
Black pits' mirth.
Unholy the heart's abode, smoke-fire,
Brimstone ripping the skies,
Broken, ****** decaying bodies,
Lo the wolves of dire!
Carrion, Fear's black teeth imbibing flesh,
His eyes clouded over,
Black dawn, unconcealed gore.
-Firefly
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
American Mothers
whose husbands
pray to Muloc
loyal only to
their lodge.
Raise their sons
as daughters
and their daughters
as breeders.
Wealthy American
mothers
teach their infants
Mandrian Chinese.
Quietly preparing them
for the future.
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 1:43 AM UTC
Beauty in spaces
dead echoes
empty places
crows join hands
old songs
fatherlands
feathers entwined
we dine
we cry inside
god lied
these walls fall
to the leaders
the breeders
the obscene feeders
empty spaces
master races
we all
died young
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
i listen and there is no speech
the collective is silent
the trees sway breezes blow
breeders mate
we don’t exist
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC