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PoserPersona Jun 2018
Yes, it's seemingly a nonsensical rhetorical question, but, for that precise reason, it will illustrate a lesson, if you so desire to tag along for this short session.

Per Wikipedia, "The horse (Equus ferus caballus) is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae." Hmmm... I much prefer that the horse goes "Nay," eats hay, has a mane, and is ridden by cowboys, cowgirls, Indians, equestrians, knights, jockeys, conquistadors, Mongols, and all. Even better, just point a horse out or otherwise show a picture to a kid and they will never be mistaken again. Even the littlest ones will never be stumped when faced with a rhino, tiger, giraffe, camel, and such.

Admittedly, there is a worry that we could be fooled with that of a donkey or mule. How come no one has taken advantage of this?! What a scam to get us rich! "Duh doy," you say, cause we all know when we see a horse, so why would anyone try to trick us with an ***?! Well I ask you in turn, why does anyone try to trick us with good art versus bad, let alone art versus crap? How could anyone fall for that?!
Chris Neilson Sep 2016
Stopping to write words is my impulsive habit
as hopping grey squirrels cross paths with a wild rabbit

Hedge and tree sparrows creating their fun
tweeting feathered friends under a rising sun

Goats and rowing boats resting by a shady tree
donkey rides advertised that don't come for free

Mother feeding baby upon a tartan rug
a passing loved up couple sharing a hug

Ear flicking deer romping up then down
full leafed green trees turning to brown

For who knows a bell tolls at midday
not for a slight slumbering pony anyway

Passing a multicultural horticultural area
spotting an alpaca who's growing hairier

A soaking Labrador emerges from a small lake
brushing my bare lower leg in its wake

Sitting on a bench dedicated to a lost loved one
taking in the views he loved before he was gone

A picture may paint a thousand words long
but poetry captures succinctly September birdsong
It's my fortune to live close to one of the largest municipal parks in Europe (Heaton Park), this is my account of a stroll through there this unseasonably warm September day.
Tom Spencer Mar 2018
The donkey and the ox
what a racket they must have made!
Munching on the straw
from the crib in the manger.

Such thick headed beasts!
How did our Savior survive
with all of His toes -
His swaddling free of slobber?

Imagine, if you will
their warm grassy breath forming
little clouds that were filled
with His radiance.

And pity poor Joseph
asleep, off to the side, and Mary
completely exhausted.
For, while resting, they missed

what soft brown eyes sensed -
that before shepherd or angel
or wise man arrived, a feast
had been set for the taking.


(For Sherry Smith)
Tom Spencer © 2018
CK Baker Mar 2017
lady craighead played the blues
on a stand-up samick
in the ***** room
along side the parsons project
and squabbling dogs
and night moves

stairs creek
up the mezzanine trek
wool sheets slide
on finished floors
little angels
play late into the seventh
(a closing match nearing
the midnight hour)

croaking toads and cicada
sing in the blue moon
musty smells and mothballs
settle deep in the vault
the kettle boils
and cat coils
as the pump house rolls
its heavy drawl

the red phone rings
and bird clock sings
(behind the ruddy stall)
a sleeman variation of the ruy lopez
employed heartily
by the incomparable master jack
marble toast burning
wringer wash churning
chris craft running
near the old carp canoe

rooster calls
and west wind squalls
rustle through the porch screen door
chicken *** pies
and rogue flies linger
a rocker chair placed
near the  sepia face
(softened by the intricate frame)

donkey in tow
(with a fastened ***)
maggie in her dreams
of green tambourines
the nocturnes
reflections
and whispering gospel bells

tractors pull on
the grinder stone
horses lay still
in the mid-day sun
a trump card is fingered
at the furnace click
(crosswords and puzzles are next!)
while the sparrow
and that **** rabid fox
are drowning
deep in castles well
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***,
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.

Logan Robertson

7/25/2018
The pigeons are sad

The pigeons saw that

The future comes with bad

The pigeons were telling that

The prophets born here

The prophet know that

It is the land of kind

, welfare and tied

The religions at that land

The assembly of religions

The peace between nations

Were established there

Here was the prophet David

Who the mounts the trees ,

The stones and  the birds,

Repeated his prays

He governed with justice

After him ,Solomon was gotten

He governed with justice

The welfare had increased

And the peace with there

The Romans occupied it

And the injustice appeared

The killing and the theft

Were actually increased

Here was born Jesus

Who invited to peace

At shortest and clear

That was not admired

By Romans or Jewish

Who were there

They planned to **** him

The land became unfair

The decreasing of welfare

The increasing of fear

Till the new nation appeared

The new religion increased

It called for justice

It led to peace

The Muslims achieved a victory

As they built a great glory

And they blockaded the land

The patriarch man said,"

We didn’t give the keys

Except to your leader

Who is justice’s famous"

They wore one of soldiers

The smartest cloth

They introduced him

As the prince of Insurers

as the caliph of Muslims

The greatest patriarchs said,"

That is not the man we did

Actually knew and have red

At our book that mentioned

Him actually as we saw awake."

The leader of soldiers ordered

To sent a letter to the caliph

At bright city wide distance

As he wanted to keep blood

Out of bleeding

He wanted not to ****

The innocent people

He didn’t want to bore

His name over death

His religion ordered them

To save the innocent people

To the caliph to came

The caliph and a servant  moved

The leader of the greatest land

At that time, at that moment

From the kind and light city

He read the yassin of holy

Quran that equals twenty

Minutes

For riding the donkey

And his servants walks only

Then the caliph got off only

And the servant rode the donkey

And they read the yassin for away

To count and know time

And mention the God only

Then the caliph and servant  also

Walked with their donkey

To rest it also

They keep reading yassin only

Till they reached near the holy

City that mentioned with  holy

In Quran with great respect

The turn is on the servant  

To get  that donkey rode

And the caliph would walk

He said," my prince! I must

Get down and you must

Ride that donkey"

He said," then I will be called

Injustice caliph led the insurers

To be injustice at every talkers

And it is your turn

If the air came to me smelt

With good smell than yours

If the water I drink

Have more delicious than yours

If I created from mud

Made of silver and gold

I will rode that animal

And you must go walker

Ride it my good insurer"

The soldiers saw him

They did great clutter

They wanted to salute him

The patriarch said with amazed,"

See what is that noise?

He looked and said

That is him , that is him!"

The patriarch went and looked

He counted patch in his

The cloth of the greatest prince

Of the greatest Nation motioned

At the ancient, at the present

He said," you are who is mentined!

You are the caliph

"Omar" was the caliph

He gave them the safe deal

That mentioned by his name

The patriarch gave him the keys

Of  Jerusalem to him

The time for afternoon pray came

The caliph prayed out the church

The patriarch said

Why you didn’t pray at that

Place at the inner of the church

Omar said if I prayed here

The Muslims after that

Say "Omar" prayed here

And they took it

To be a mosque indeed
there is walkaways a chance to achieve a peace. if we catch it
zebra Aug 2018
The new # 69 hoochi coochi smoochi
rubberized *** robot ****** sucker model 2.0
now available

*******
feelin lonely
tired of spats
credit cards charged up from dates that don't put out
don't like the same restaurants
not ***** to your taste
cant stand the in-laws
you wana live costal, they like Kansas
or
tired of internet dating
and no time for a quickie

when the one you love tells you they aren't in the mood

well bunky
its a brave new world
take a spin in our new model
robot 69, 2.0
they talk
they walk
warm all ova inside and out
scented oiled perfumed *** optional
and flavored
to include
chocolate crunch, vanilla, strawberry
and
phooey
replete with an array of assorted interchangeable
*****, *****'s and butts
extra sturdy for ware and tear
and those little irresistible spankies and whoopins
you just cant live without
plus any colors, or rainbow rubber chasse
*** straight or mix it up how eva
trans trans gender

buy out right
or rent ala cart
deluxe or standard
voice activated

advanced multi lingual
baby talk and hits the high notes
talks back software program
and
NO always means YES
plus
screams
cu cu cu cu cu cummmmming
cooes I love you
**** me now *****
shred me you ****** ******
and many others
in over 50 languages

Other optional features include

age play
ethnic fetish
banjee
blow jobs
tipping the velvet
**** to mouth
salad tossing
*******
spit roast
bare back
chicken head
death grip
*******
mammary *******
*******
Netflix and chill
*******
*******
brown bath
cream pie
*******
motor boating

and the shocker  
two in the pink and one in the stink
adult ***
I da Pimpled Goose ****,
seedybeat Fugazi cane.
Ain't no ganda down da farm
who got mo' game!

I da foie gras solja,
scarecrow shades on da bridge
o' ma bill dat's orange
like doin' Dixie porridge.

I da ***** Flocka,
mi gold chain read 'CAP'
- big shoutout ta da Common
Agricultural Policy!

O dat Monty Don
**** around like Donkey Kong,
when 'e shud be mi main man
down da plantation!

I da Thugly Swan
wit' da young G's zits.
Ma hooty beeyatch got
Wotsit flipperlips!

Wot good fo' da goose
is good fo' da gangsta.
She lay da golden egg,
turnin' tricks in de tracta.

Funkyard fleshialist
yo' honkin' ** needs:
bird sheet, wigga duck,
Chicken Town OG.

But when I's in da hoosegow,
who's in ma goose hoes?
It's dem alfalfa
desperadoes.

Farmer **** MacMuck,
Farmer Pygmalion,
Farmer Fab 5 Freddy
- ta me, dey all Farmer John!

Da's cookin' in da barn,
da's cathouse in da coop.
'Ged out!' I told da Ghettoad
O ' Toad Hood!

& all dem oinky donkies,
dem Snoop Hoggy Hoggs
know dat' if dem' diss me,
it be rainin' caps & doggs!

Buy da farm if ya cluck
amok wit' ya beeyatch talk.
Money Monty Don
chuck da muck wit'  da peeyatch fork!

Now mi feather up da heifer
& get mi beak freak on.
& when me pluck mi pustules,
dey iz pumpaction!

Now Monty Don freestyle,
'Sheer deep 'appyness
ya no spit 'less ya spittin'
sheepdip ya p-e-nis!'

Now MC Duckwhistle
wit'  da cornrow neckdo,
gonna get da gaggle waggle
ta 'is raspy kazoo:

'I not da Pimpled Goose ****,
I da Pimpled Goose **** Son,
& I's only pimpin' geese
till da Pimpled Goose **** come!  

I not da Pimpled Goose ****,
I da Pimpled Goose **** Son,
& I's only pimpin' geese
till da Pimpled Goose **** come!'
punch the alarm clock
and go to work only
to punch my time in
at yet another clock
to punch holes at a
punch press and
fantasize about
punching my boss
in the face and
then punch out
from work and go
punch in my pin
number to pay my
bills that punch away
at my weak paycheck
and return home to
avoid the neighbor
with a very punchable
face and sit down at
the typewriter with a
tall glassful of spiked
punch and punch words
down on paper from the
lettered keys as I write
about punching love in
the heart and punching
sadness in the chin and
donkey punching ******
in the back of the head
while I go crazy and punch
holes in the wall and drunk
punch the night away and
never getting to the punchline.
From different times of splender our hearts go out to thee ,
in troubled times when the crow returns to it's stag to pluck and proon  ,  and the mornings dew has cast it's spell ,
as if the shades of the berries in the forest have now  all gone ,
and the grave was never entered ,
the church was never built .

How then if when  the gates were never
shut .
not crushed to death by hungry crowds.
and Tom   to dock yards went so he
could buy some bread ,
to feed his wife and child .
The love they felt when they were fed
on this Christmas morning.
As children played
or begged ,
or stole to feed their swollen bellies ,
in slum streets this day ,
a feast didst lay afore them .
Lamb roasted on a spit ,
Tom's door was now flung open ,
No more hunger ,
No more shackles of rent man ,
poor house years ,
then ****** tears shivering in dark infested boxes .
Yet to this day a child was born  into
this poverty ,
to save ,
amidst wise men and donkey.

Then a crow with eager eye picked a snake did wrestle ,
took it away ,
it's beak it's prey ,
rose  to catch the dawn .

For a bud was formed  
not in autumn  
not on June  ,
did it blossom  
but out of hardship did it lay ,
out of a forgotten tommrow .
Tony Tweedy Mar 11
There are too many days..... I cant do this many days. Too many days where darkness wins. Fate laughs endlessly. I am Fate's comedic performer and he laughs without end. Like a donkey behind a carrot I am led and with the rasp of a donkey's bray Fate's laughter rings in my ears.
I don't think I can do this. Where joy is substituted by despair and happiness succumbs to death.... and the symphony of laughter is the tune. The strings on this puppet are frayed and worn but the puppeteer is relentless. How do you fix the strings of a puppet in motion? Who will catch the puppet if he falls? I can hear no answers above the laughter that rings in my ears and so this puppet on tattered strings dances on to the tune that Fate maintains. How long is a piece of string? It matters not if the string can carry no weight.
What did you say...
Am I a human or an animal??
Let me ask the same thing to you...
Are you not an animal??

Why do we call ourselves,
Greatest of all,
Supreme than the rest?

Why do we consider us,
The intelligent tribe,
The species with communication power,
With knowledge and wisdom..?

How do we underestimate
The memory of an elephant,
The hearing capabilities of horse,
The sense to smell of dog,
The power to live for ages of trees?

Why do we judge other living beings and rate SELF the best??

Do we ever think how animals communicate?
And what do they talk?
Do animals call us HUMANS too??

Did we ask a dog,
What do they call us??
Do they all call themselves dog??
Does dog ever call us HUMANS??

Did we ask a donkey ever,
What name had they given to us?
Are we intelligent enough for them..?
Do they call there naughty kids ...
Oh insane humans!!

What do they talk about humans?
What do they feel humans to be like?
Do they consider us the same intelligent as we feel for us?
Or
They think we are
Fool, insane, adamant..
And make us a laughing stock..!!

Think!!
Whenever you call someone an animal !!

Are we all not the same,
AN ANIMAL.!!

Sparkle In Wisdom
Nov 2018
Random thinking, if animals had language that we understood.
Mustafa Maho Feb 3
Why would a sailor do a thing
To cause his ship come to sink

Such shrink of fortune would spring
By a neat empty act of hard fling

Done by a dull *** carefree
Full and tied to an old tree

Halt and behold this story
Wiser than the sailor's history

Once in a land there was an ***
Happy and singing in the grass

A long robe tied to an old tree
Had made him feel assly free

Praising his owner loudly proud
Sang melodies to the village's crowd

Shouting, champing, darkly brown
Donkey king of golden crown

Keeping his voice village's round
Bothered people till they frowned

Once when farmer working around
Feeding fishes, deeply drowned

Scared donkey out of fear
Louder'd his voice wet in tear

Having no choice but to fight
Hunger and thirst day and night

Village's people passing by
Didn't get poor ***' cry

Faster'd their feet to walk away
Not knowing bout his null tray

The poor donkey had passed away
Out of thirst and lack of hay.
Andrew Jan 26
They used to worship the Creator
Now they worship job creators
Because of their blind nature
And aggressive nomenclature
They sacrifice life and limb
Bringing all that is grim
Making the world dim
Not listening to Him

They won’t budge
While they judge
And hold a grudge
As they trudge
Behind whoever has the answers
Or can cure their cancer
Like a magic necromancer
Raising skeleton dancers

They’re sheep
They’re slaves
I’m not deep
I’m just saying
Their praying
Donkey braying
Causes slaying
Fish filleting

Christianity seems stupid
After they’ve used it
Which is *******
From a ghoul’s wit
Who can’t cool it
Becoming enslaved by anger
And afraid of strangers
Any threat of danger
Nullifies Jesus’ manger

The pious anoint them
The rich exploit them
I wish I could avoid them
Instead I just annoy them

They say the Bible is the greatest thing ever written
But I really love the song Subdivisions
Which they call derision
But Jesus said we would do greater works
Yet the mere idea of that hurts
So they act like jerks
When I tell them not to compare Hattori Hanzo swords
They formulate violent hateful hordes
Expelling anger they’ve stored
Towards me
Trying to set them free
From a more manipulative breed
Until I hate them
And underrate them
After they understated
Jesus’ compassion
I can’t see in their fashion
Building a fascist far right bastion

They scream
And yell
Their dream
A hell
I can’t tell
How they fell
Under the spell
Of a holy well

They’re lured
By a cure
And obscure
The truer
Who can make progress
But meet resistance
In holy offense
And insistence
We may need some distance
To make up this difference
Bored of these games
Screwball scrabble your monopoly
I'll take the risk not pass go or bow to authority

I wanna Poke your face with a hot poker
Just to see your poker face  
I might just be a **** but the queen's I have to chase

And who would of thunk
I lost all my marbles
When I went and played kerplunk
My battle ship sunk
And it's now not the rope swing
I want hang from that tree trunk

So check mate this was my only first draughts
The mouse has been trapped warhammer's looking for a blood bath on the warpath

So don't go and pin the tail on the donkey
Coz' you might get a buckaroo though
But look for the clue'do
And you might find more
But only if your a hungry hippo and can find the hidden meanings in theese words and connect all four
1.  Your cornflower blue eyes crinkled and laughing, sometimes flashing like the storms you love to chase

2. Your strawberry blond mop that smelled nothing like fruit but instead of sweat and grime, clinging to your brow when you removed that Pepsi baseball cap

3. Easter egg hunts on your birthday, like plastic flowers in melted snow and you up trees and on the roof of grandma's garage

4. Rare compromises that built tree forts or wound up the tire swing until it bounced and whirled its passenger like a spinning top

5. When everything you did, I wanted to do too--whether it was rescuing the princess or flying an X-wing

6. Diddy and Dixie Kong headlocked and tangled in armpits, wrestling for the Super Nintendo controller or for the remote for the VCR until Donkey had enough and made them both watch Barney

7. The laughter of you and your friends from the basement or slipping around the corner, back when I said “Me too” and meant “include me”

8. Games of war crouched behind the couches when the only war you dreamt about was the one in Narnia

9. The cliff in Hawaii over the smoking volcanic ocean water and Mom screaming for you to come down

10. When you push me, like the dominoes you used to line up and watch devotedly as they toppled over, one after the other because sometimes general incivility is the very essence of love.
#3030April4
N Paul Nov 2018
Yesterday was okay:
   Food is good; mood is good
The newbies look wired:
  Lauren, he is nervous and pleasantly disturbed by forthright kindness.
  Arthur is slow and engaging and intimate.
  Kate is a little crazy
    She sneaks into the men's house:
    The men tense
    Our eyes move together like magnets
      "Hello." She accepts the challenge with interest.
        "Hello." A Slavic lilt.
    I comment that she mustn't like rules.
      She is overjoyed by this.
    Five minutes later she is caught and saunters sulkily away.
  We are friends.

The old men, we are slower;
  Even our eyes move slower
  We explore the grounds with less hurry:
    They will not move, and we resist the urge to pry their secrets before we have earned them:
     We save their hidden corners like sweets under a pillow:
        Times will come when they are needed; gorge now and starve later.
   For us, time will stay put if we ask it.
     With quiet acceptance we foresee the many moments that lie ahead when we will burn to usher time along.
     A sullen wise old donkey that resists the switch.
     He is our concern. And our fear.

You may become a master of time here.
More likely, you will realise its mastery over you:
Illuminated to a vivid and terrible outline.
Johnny walker Feb 18
No more kissing will I ever do or holding hand as we walked no more rides In the car with Helen sat beside me

No more trips to seaside or dinky doughnuts down by the sea nice cups of tea no more Ice cream or watching donkey giving ride on the beach to the children

And no tea and white buttered toast at her favourite cafe In the mornings no kissing goodnight or waking to
her upon the morning light no more brushing or washing her hair

No helping Helen to dress in the mornings or
getting her ready for bed In the evenings and all of this sadly missed for I'll never do any this
anymore
The sudden awareness she not there and all the things you did together you'll no longer do
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