"goy" poems
I am a pirate.
An ego without
adequate moral precepts
representing no culture
since being deemed socially unacceptable.
Pledging no Country:
sovereign remains of a Country that was.
I am a goy,
living without legal ordinance.
With nowhere to go-
-hoping there is a place...
Coming for you, in hopes to follow your shadow.
To pillage, ransack and ****** your daughters,
as she knows no other way --
or sisters --
slightly more independent.
I have no allegiance;
just my creed of plunder.
Tis my birthright.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
It had been raining for ten years—
just after our vows too, when the life
of the party shouted “Drop dead.”
What aplomb! All those faithless Springs
suddenly worthless. Years of abandonment
counting for nothing. Oh horrors of
enchantment, beauty of truculence.
You can always depend upon the hostility of lovers
But we, a glamorous, shuddering chorus,
eyes averted, move en pointe past
the confessional’s lurid glow,
that peep-show of self-pity. Really, Mary!
As if our holy yawns don’t prove
we’re simply riddled with purity
and will float softly, silently
as the dreams of the inconsolable rhinoceri,
pitiable as the tears of lost seagulls,
sure as Adam’s apple pie, straight to heaven.
The angels’ impatience says we’ve
all prayed for too little and they
can’t wait to scold us. God’s redecorating.
He wants all his darlings back.
Oh Frank. Have you missed us terribly,
whom you never met? I picture your daily
grand jeté over the sun, knowing the moon
never tires of loving you. I long to change
costumes and visit. Let’s see. Blandishments,
pitchforks, foreskins. Well! But then Edward
told me you had the longest he’d ever seen.
My mother loved me so I got to keep mine,
ensuring that there I would always be a goy.
Just knowing that I’ve kissed lips that once
kissed yours—but enough. Discretion is
the better part of careerism. Now there
is only one poet I love to read while dreaming.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
Whether virtual or actual paths cross,
aye great thee ahoy
no fear Mademoiselle or Monsieur,
thy harried style haint cloy
rather, when embarking
on introductory acquaintance
ship, aye employ
swiftly tailored indistinguishable,
asper this wordsmith mebbe goy
or Jew, yet genealogically
thine Semitic lineage,
unknown descendants begat,
one generation after
stitched another thread,
whence warp and woof, sans dat
(moth eaten tattered wool worth
coat of arms), twas slim and/or fat
chance biologic dice throw
adumbrated me Matt,
a skinny, quirky,
and nerdy kid, who sat
alone during lunchtime
at school pained, plagued,
and pronounced with extreme,
where introversion didst agitate
chronic state of misery being alive
immobilized, hogtied, and forfeited
natural predilection
to discover and create
heterosexual relationships,
viz interpersonal experiences
re: raison to date
initial intimate rapport
(anxiety fraught) fate
full situation with a gal
giving her good grief great
(yes, twas Maryann Sage),
who understandably became irate
predicated on lack
of mine demonstrative affection
quickly becoming an unsuitable mate
though now in retrospect
(hindsight always 20/20)
a sudden resurgent spate
finds remembrance of things passed
(with her) engendering
cerebral tete a tete
rankling memories,
hence for death aye cannot wait!
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
Were your mind the soil from which words rise,
autochthonic,
filled with meaning-ment-al
ready to write asif
you exist, dear reader, and know
autochthonic
people are some different from
Gaijins, gegenes, genetical offspring of Gaia,
I imagine, gollum mud men, goy-soulish sorts,
were, once thought,
asreal as death itself, by those in the know;
but
we never know ever, ever being as it is and
this being mortality,
the act of dying,
asif we were seeds, words whispered in darkness,
come and see. Buy of me gold,
without money,
without price.
Grace, take it for granted, and grow on.
Become that which the seed demanded you to be,
when autochthonic was re
cognized as some word Nunzio Corso knew, but you
never heard of him.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 1:57 PM UTC
wunteim i sad to mee mumu wor i *** gee
shaggie sakid we nood to do de smokeng
i sed noo is a bood goy
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
when just a whippersnapper
of a little boy
me late mum and octogenarian pop agreed
for doctor removal of my adenoid
less to prevent their only son
from being coy
than fear of said male heir
to the harris throne becoming an android
a less than agreeable likelihood,
especially in tandem
with predilection of goy
this fateful outcome unfazed,
this now green giant, not the least bit annoyed
as captain crunch (before childhood didst end
i.e. distend into middle age)
beckoned yours truly with “A HOY”
horrified that my parents would be so blithe
to steer their son clear to avoid
psychotic outcome to deliver obliviousness,
and thus bring inner joy
so, they sent their peculiar male progeny
believing himself to be Pink Floyd
who found himself evicted desperately,
and in sore need of gainful m ploy
so he began his therapy in orifice
er office of Sigmund Freud
who bore a striking resemblance
to a wooden pecked prickly shaped toy
(a pickle iz just a pickle)
this mental analysis delved into past –
outcome I felt less than overjoyed
despite boss be addressed as Oedipus,
and pay verbal homage that did cloy
dredging layered past devoid
of love, yet flush with fallacious
prevaricated abuse from mister Lloyd
Lavinsky, a demon of a grade school bully
forsooth sanity he destroyed!
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
buttercup,
he said
i'm back
and hungry,
drank too much ***
and want to talk art
laugh, of course, i do
i miss you
i want you to come here
i want us to laugh
please, let's write together
our dreams, they won't wait
i will, in time
summer is near
we'll eat fish and swim
the universe feeding us
but now, please
it's growing
i'm weak
call me a goy, i'll laugh
while that heart-shaped
crescent moon presses
my collarbone, tender
your beard rough
soon, we've waited centuries
already
time just circumstance
of course, but promise
no tricks
we'll not burn it
there won't be matches
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
Love Remains Bless
Love is an ocean and beloved is a mermaid
So to accompany her a lover a real quest
This is how love and attraction are displayed
A lover when takes the test becomes best
Love is a passion and emotion to reinvigorate
Beats of heart and soul to make a string
Love remains an extraordinary sweet associate
In extreme autumn it may bloom as spring
Love and beauty goy together to cherish
All flowers start dancing in happiness
But if love is failed it has to but totally perish
In this cruel world love remains only bless
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright March 2022 Love Remains
Apr 6, 2022
Apr 6, 2022 at 4:06 PM UTC
Without further ado
i offer my literary missives anew
fur ye to ponder and brew
from meister mwm of his motley crue,
whom dwells in a nada very complex edifice
which numb burr oof offspring equals deux
whereby this spouse i.e me kind of resembles an emu
whence money a edified reader considers
dis goy wit sum brain cells 2 few
chomped on by an carnivorous elder gnu
and said two female progeny sired
from one ova plus super seminal glue
swimming swiftly via viscous hue
genetic heritage comprised predominantly Jew
with one late uncle Lou,
who himself wed a milch cow, she frequently did moo
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated from the primate zoo.
**** Sapiens Sale hums lot
witnessed vicious thermal winds that blew
thick mass of cremated ashes
across rubble strewn,
and severely cratered landscape!
The devil made mince meat
as like one huge lumbering ogre
and grim reaper
rolled up into one
not so jolly green giant did slay
good will to all men,
and spat out pox with an emphatic nay
triumphing over godly salvation
using eponymous accursed pitchfork
made merry and rolled in the hay
simultaneously sneering out in delight
at wanton death and decay
whereby civilization forever mutilated
perforated said spindled
and inappropriately sensually fondled
world wide web structure
where once proud arm strong spikes radiated
now sundered in total chaotic disarray!
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
The Antichrist the Man of Sin “that Wicked” soon will come
The whole world wonders after him, to his witchcraft they succumb
.
For three years and a half, he will have his way
Worship him receive his Mark, or you he’s going to slay
.
In Jerusalem his thrown will be, in Temple number three
A Cohort he does have, worship them on bended knee
.
His Cohort came from Rome, he wears a “holy” ring
Does lying signs and wonders, “salvation” he does bring
.
Two men whose garb is sackcloth, witness day and night
The Man of Sin does HATE them, from the Scriptures they do site
.
“That Wicked” has them killed, all the people shout for joy
For three days and a half they lay, happy are the goy
.
But alas what ** is this! They arise upon their feet
To Heaven they’re caught up, their mission is complete
.
Rear the Book of Daniel, chapter number twelve
Verse ten plus one, into this you need to delve
.
“THE ABOMINATION” is set up, from that day start to count
The LORD will set His feet, upon the Temple Mount
.
To one thousand days add ninety, then add two hundred more
Every eye will see Him! He will fight the Armageddon War
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 5:30 AM UTC
upon waking from a splendid plunge
into the depths of deep dreamy restful sleep
anchors away set adrift this body electric,
which succombed instantaneously
(without counting sheep)
nor joining the make belive rank and file world
with the likes of little bo peep
an immediate notion arose
to latch onto and ignore
this most delightful, flight of fancy deed
(not ***** nor done dirt cheap),
but a natural function
one cannot overdose nor excede
the USDA quotidian requirement,
where cares and concerns
of an uncertain world freed
yet an asolute bare necessity for stayin' alive
plus richly textured unrivaled vista devoid of greed
additionally cost and gluten free, NON GMO,
zero caloric effortless need
(words of caution to take seriously to heart),
and note that if one doth not yield, but sure to read
the small print affixed like a label each mind
forcing to squeeze out every metaphorical
drop of open eyed juice
perhaps resorting to **** or speed
that silent slurred speech, physical lashing,
head dropping fatique
will invite Halloween aparitions, delusions,
grand hallucinations, et cetera
as if one smoked wacky ****
the forces of anatomical and physiological
heft will take charge ahoy
and blast at top notch nautical surge,
will wrest control against blistering,
festering against withering heights
delivering balms away at feeble attempts
to retain losing battle to remain alert oh boy
no matter how much effort summoned,
(even feigning wakefulness as a decoy)
the trappings of oblivion
i.e. sinking into profound dreamland,
whether an individual ascribes to be Jew or goy
which Maxwell House maxim
“the key to better relationships may be more sleep”
no mortal ought to take lightly,
but pay heed lest the grim reaper doth creep
stealthily and scythe lent lee steal
a haggard skiff of flesh and bone
whereat corporeal essence no more
will there be for the soul to keep.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
Who (on a lark) doth
spur my distant soul
fully bellowed ahoy
quickly hastening
ye to catfish
as a way to avoid
this beastie boy
wherein America playfulness
of generic gull versus buoy
ought tubby coy,
where thee
(latter days haint)
feeble, (non fable us)
jerry-rig mock up employ
appetizing as pâté de foie
gras, flavored for
tastebuds of goy
opposed to dietary
strictures of Jew,
moost likely christening
implies holier than thou
(especially, asper those hoy
tee toy
tee upscale rich folk)
proudly prideful mensch
linkedin kindling joy
de vivre, while
quietly dwelling stoke
king traditions ensconced, poke
king and prodding youngest
generation to become
rooted like mighty oak,
within their mini mansions,
and attending synagogue,
solemn non joke
kingly seriously
commingling, congregating,
and copulating plenti
fully, while livingsocial
at least among other rich folk,
sans Mainline, Pennsylvania
a cohesive family tribe
dispersed members of Zion
prompting this atheistic
scribe try'n
to fathom long gone - NEIN
never forgotten Semitic
village people (mine
ancestry, who hailed and
harkened from Eastern Europe
wonder on this
eightieth anniversary,
of Kristallnacht, where genocide
cleft a jagged line,
where ponders thyself
countless relations
haunting as I dost
eat, sleep or dine!
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC