"herbivore" poems
Elephants are my
favorite, but I
hate giraffes
I don't trust
the horns
on their heads
Or how they
coerced evolution
into upgrading
their necks, legs AND
tongues -greedy
little *******
Just eat from bushes
or averaged sized
trees like a normal
******* herbivore
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
They tell me to stick to my roots
because roots lead up to shoots.
They tell me to stick to my origin
unaware of how it acts as a prison,
My roots are Draupadi's hair that was twisted and lugged,
my roots are Panchali's saree that was tugged.
My roots are Sita's wrist Ravana wrested,
my roots are where Ahalya's chastity rested.
My roots are parasites that eat up its own herb and ****
my roots are rat snakes that eat up its own tissue and meat.
My roots are flames of fire that created and watered the plant of Sati,
my roots are pools of blood and long ropes that drowned and hanged LaxmiBai and Moolmati.
My roots are the dish misogyny flavoured with patriarchy,
my roots are naked streams of Ganga washing off their lynching and anarchy.
My roots are all the poison Shiva drank during the churning of the sea,
my roots are Dhritrashtra's aspirations and ambiguity.
My roots are its own herbivore,
my roots are the lava that burns its own floor.
And my roots are my flesh and bone,
so I am stitched to my roots altogether, all alone.
So as I cut my own roots, my roots chop me,
hence I stick to my roots while my roots remain free.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC
If I expect to be a born
again christian, I would
be hoping that they got
rid of the fish, unless,
that is, my mother was a
Mermaid, in which case,
a Caesarian section is the
only other option I could
consider, now that I am
100% Herbivore, avoiding
*********** completely,
even on Mardi Gras, when
Cath O' Licks, have a Papal
exemption on Fat Tuesday.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC
You know the way I took it,
At the break of dawn
You know how I slid from your window sill,
Like the gold flakes from my fingernails,
Fandango in the bluing sky
You knew when you awoke,
Rubbing cobwebs from your cracks
When you looked to see it gone,
The gun into your mind
Surely someone clever as you,
Would never let it sit
For a replayed taboo like me,
To steal it as you slept
Your periscope eyes have found me,
Hurdling from the howling woods,
Deep with festers
From your pets
You, you scrawny herbivore
While I eat carnage
Tangy and red
You, it seems, possess some bravery
When you shot those mind bullets
Pushing through my back
But you missed, my dear
You missed
Or was it just your intent
To slash
And torment
Instead?
But you missed, my dear
You missed
--Lily
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
I wish you were a dinosaur, I could look but fear to touch
I wish you were a dinosaur so your kiss would be too much.
But to be honest, this is no test-
I wish you were a dinosaur because that's your wish.
Collecting those you please, I wish you nothing but success;
You'll be the King of the Plains like that T-Rex you claim is best.
Isn't this what you wanted? Look at me, your powerless crutch;
You herbivore beast with a carnivorous clutch.
But still I crave the days when your hand would hold my breast;
When we'd sink into the sheets like the sunset to the west.
Yet I'd never wish your dreams to be so close but out of reach;
Your tiny arms just long for love and one to teach.
I won't be fooled again despite my skin delicate and pale;
Your clutch just lost its strength, I always knew you were so frail.
I never mean to hurt you, but I'm sick of being a leech;
I've detached myself from you, no longer burning in the bleach.
So cheers, my friend, to all your wealth although you may not think,
You're still my favorite dinosaur, but alas you are extinct.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
She’s talkin to cows again
Cattle candied side
Licorice fence
A mother hen’s
Cherry eggs
Chocolate fudge smears
On her legs
Slide over grape ice pond
Atop frosted clover
Sugared world beyond
Three soft cows before her
Describe the candied world
One says, “I produce chocolate milk just for me
A little bit of strawberry for she
And vanilla for all three”
Smooth Cocoa will flow
Sweetness will fill your pores
A crystal rain pours
Sugared quartz upon
Caramel whirlpools
Nature’s homemade molecules
Blueberry skies drip
Fields of lollipop
Glimmer rainbow sunshine
Sweetest Harvest
Candy wrappers fall
Wind blows them
Over by candy-wax waterfall
Marshmallow hikes
With chocolate pretzel poles
Strands of sugary pink glass fall From Cotton candy clouds
A new farmer’s way to plow
He says, “young lady
Do you vow
Cherish this nutritional place
And make it your Delectable space?”
“I do” she proclaims ~
“To make it mine
I have no shame
Only a request
Of cinnamon I suggest
A form of healing zest
Sprinkled on this candied land
Where you are I so happily stand
A powerful purpose
You will see
Your nose will thank you
I suppose
A Favorite of every herbivore
From a former land I will go no more
An offer of sticky bun
To sweeten the score
From here to the slushie seafloor
Of a confection land adored”
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 8:46 PM UTC
Dimwitted cloves squashed before they developed four leaves.
Other foliage in the family constantly grieves.
Devoured and left sore
By a local herbivore
Cattle herded for the purpose of prolonged life
No more slaughtered at the point of a knife.
Living free in grassless fields
Farmland now hardly yields
Dietary concerns carefully balanced,
Finding you’re nutritionally challenged
Told its time to drop the meat
And pick up a steak made of beet.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
Listen
Can you hear it?
Through the calloced,
Burned eyes
Of the carcass.
The flame
Thrown unto them
Like a ball.
Caught
With deadly force,
They fall.
Cooked
On the earths grill
Of hot ground,
And plants
Light up
Like burners.
The melting tears
Of a childhood home
Kills their history.
No mark left
To signify they lived,
Even for a moment,
On this planet.
Can you hear it?
The dogs screaming bark,
The crackling cackle
Of a fire ruthless?
Burning anything it touches
Including itself.
As it’s a destroyer,
It’s dug it’s own grave.
Just as any carnivore,
Or herbivore
Takes life just to die.
Just as plants
Take nutrients
From the dead,
So they die.
It’s all a cycle
Of death and decay,
The melting eyes
Bring sight
To the living.
We take knowledge
From the minds
Of the old,
They pass
For the sake
Of your mind.
We bleed on the inside,
Our heart gives us this,
A blood flow
That’s so beautiful from the outside,
But so necessary inside.
Our heart kills itself,
Bleeds out,
For us.
So one must question,
How much have I destroyed,
How much have I taken?
Do I deserve this,
When all I’ve done
Is taken form others lives?
The answer depends,
On how you’re spending
Your life,
Have you used it in honor
Of those you’ve taken
Life from?
Or have you slain
And brutalized.
Given pain
For your own dishonor?
Martyred yourself,
For the world
Is too much for you
To bear.
Remember those who care,
Remember the life you can give
If only you try to.
Be careful what you give
To the world,
For it will come back to you.
With a heart of vengeance,
Wrath
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Herbie ain’t no herbivore
He’s more of a feasting guy
His taste buds are testy
His jaws are real itchy
For a succulent turkey thigh
No, Herbie is no herbivore
And when he’s in the kitchen
He’ll alway stay focused
Ready to show us
Food is much more than nutrition
Herbie is no herbivore
There’s more to life than greens
But it shouldn’t be said
That his mum and his dad
Haven’t taught him to love chilli beans
Herbie is no herbivore
This Christmas there'll be no doubt
He’ll feast like a prince
On pies filled with mince
And turkey and maybe a sprout
Dec 13, 2024
Dec 13, 2024 at 5:53 AM UTC
Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.
It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the
great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.
In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,
an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.
Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.
Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.
I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.
And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
How we can't bring ourselves to appreciate Nature's poignancy.
That thing in our health we can initiate like nurturing pregnancy.
My Blood is green, I keep getting invocations of once being herbivore...
but still weak, I keep accepting invitations to that burning wors
The contradiction of fighting the animal but harnessing his habits,
some call it balance...is it a battle of the Wants and the Needs?
Predictions of biting what's minimal and harvesting as a habit,
Wonder if that makes sense or does the Apple fall far from the Tree??
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
"only feast on what is absolutely necessary.
do not substitute. stay content with the cycle."
did my mother know i struggled to break this
cycle, that being a herbivore was necessary for
my healing process? being an omnivore and
substituting you for other things always left
my stomach an empty void that could not be
filled with temporary smiles. i haven't quite recovered
from the last time i indulged on you as a guilty
pleasure. but what does that even matter to you
when the necessities to you do not involve me?
i will not be thanking for anything at the table
because i'm not sure if i can handle thanking
god for someone who is only a hovering shadow
upon me who doesn't remember my own name
unless she is sitting at the table along with me.
- kra
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
Grass and leaf
A gross relief
Passive release
Never to cease
The herbivore, is such a bore
Covered in gore, decay mi amore
Aimless wanderlust
Aimless wonderlust
To live, to eat
To procreate
Wander over yonder
Never stop to ponder
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 3:34 AM UTC
Prime initiative firing
on coke bottle cylinders.
A stitch past wearily;
his cognitive delirium
breeds an alien's barbarity.
No flare for a sailor to see,
the stillborn sea devours
his Saturn Missile pleas
like a herbivore foraging
fields of forever greens.
Castaway calluses stack
for an armor-clad effect.
Think homemade tank flesh
for a rainy day's doom flash.
Clickety clack... he's on track.
The Lotus's control is unknown.
Best take a backstroke anyway, folks.
An avalanche throne only holds
'til the caveman's stone is thrown
Black hole tenacity God couldn't close.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
Black and white.
Furry. As soft as silk.
A herbivore that eats bamboo.
Giant. Red.
Pandas. Beautiful pandas.
Cute but not very cuddly.
Kept in captivity.
Some in the wild.
Pandas.
A truly amazing creature.
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC
When Enrico’s Olde Horse
Was Too Old to work, he was
turned out by his master.
It is a quote from a book when
we were at primary school and
perhaps what first signalled that
I was a Socialist, humanist,
naturalist, poet, herbivore as
observed and stated at one of
my book launches, by James Kennedy
the Ex Mayor of Mallow and current
contestant as a councillor.
I would love to know from whence
the quote came from, especially
now that I am in the same position
as Enrico’s Horse, the metaphor for
Enrico being The Fine Gael Government.
It is a very important lesson that has
taken me a lifetime to learn.
Ps
Proposed book title about the abuse
of the elderly " The Knackers Yard ".
The author is currently learning
how to **** whilst walking.
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC
thought: an antidote to body - or the ought that never could, but in fact: never would; philosophy: the ultimate spectator sport.
oddly enough,
whatever the well-paid journalists
say, i feel no obligation
to be either the spokesperson
of humanity, or the preserver of it,
that's already stated by
a billion Indians and Chinese...
i'm but the whiff inspiring
**** for a cat to be taken to sleep
in the perfumery of the night...
and isn't that poetic:
i eat my breakfast at 2 a.m.,
and eat my dinner when the
breakfast pancakes are ready -
my daydream is always:
i might sleep on the street tomorrow -
i'm sabotaging my life
with excess drink and smoke
and an Atkins diet that might ****
jogger in a fortnight -
i'm a pauper living in a house
owned by an honest professional
labourer: sure, got all the culinary toys
to storm up a curry...
dating? n'ah. marriage? double n'ah...
hits closer to home when you
think about it...
whatever life is possible:
always choose the luxurious one,
however strident and helpless in terms
of years of it being prolonged -
and i am begging for my life to be
merely cameo -
a lot of people don't realise how long i
have been bowing for release:
testimony against self-assurance
and the self, as in: conscious, alter.
i'm in control of myself -
mention mortality, just mention morality...
i'm ready, as i said once:
i know a place where i can find
clean water... in between?
probably a herbivore existence -
and if that doesn't build the muscles up,
i don't know what will.
honestly though, i feel no asteroid panic
gripping me, i feel no obligation
to endure humanity,
those that retired and kept it up for 15 years
can quack all that **** into their grave...
perfectly nihilistic, i am... Yoda...
i feel no obligation, i find it surprising
that all the atheistic arguments arise
from comfortable lounges and biographies...
scrap-heaps of the envisioned lives of others...
question is, on the tip of everyone's tongue:
are you afraid of death?
the simple fact of mortality
is already an answer per se,
i guess some people never cared
for Christmas presents.
life: or the unopened.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
An omnivore a herbivore
and a carnivore went for
a walk in the desert but
only one of them returned.
At the oasis they stopped
for a drink but there was
no food only vegetation
which the herbivore had.
Hmmm said the carnivore
(to himself) while he and
the omnivore tossed a coin
to decide who'd eat what.
The carnivore won the toss
so it was his choice to eat
either of the other two, but
the herbivore intervened.
He said, I was excluded
while I was having my
fill, so to be fair I should
toss the coin and I choose.
Choose what, the carnivore
said, you wont eat any of
us that is why we left you
out, you are not included.
Ok then, the herbivore said,
I'm not partial to either of
you, yet both of you would
eat me given the opportunity.
In that case, I toss and I will
call heads or tails and I will
decide which one of you gets
to eat me, that seems only fair.
The carnivore and omnivore
agreed to this and with that
the herbivore tossed the coin
up up and it landed in the tree.
He set off up the trunk while
the other two looked on in a
slight state of confusion and
by then they were both hungry.
The herbivore arrived at the
summit and said that he had
found the coin but he couldn't
recall which side he selected.
Tell you what I'll do he said,
I will toss it from here and
as I in the tree, I will decide
who eats who of you two.
Down the coin came flipping
summersaulting and turning
edgeways landing in the sand
in an indecisive position.
Ah well the herbivore said it
means it was a draw so you
will have to come to your own
conclusion I’ve got plenty up here.
A vicious fight ensued at the base
of the tree, they were both wounded
seriously, but the carnivore overcame
the omnivore and began to cannibalise.
Ps
I am stuck for an ending, I need more
time to think about it as I am a vegan
and I want to live to tell the tale.
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC
I was on the **** on the daily, couldn’t puff puff pass coz I failed things.
Stuff was looking so dim till I had my first blunt.
Now I’m as high as priorities homie,
eyes so red that’s the window to my soul,
they’re not covered by some blinds or some curtains my homie.
Now I’m way high, really ******
Mount Everest.
Stuff was so green, kryptonite that’s my element,
I’ve been smoking leaves, sipping lean now it’s evident.
Mama told me don’t but I did for the benefits
Now she looks at me when I’m so euphoric ,
and her gaze was kind of toxic on some hydrochloric.
All my joints cremated in the ash tray.
Inhaling fumes then excrete like a chimney.
I don’t really understand what the substance is,
I don’t really, really care what the function is.
Bought my first green bag at 15,
I was such a herbivore my homie
Could care less about pharmaceuticals, only thing I was prescribed was the lean my homie.
The thirst of my liver,
I sipped on this liquor.
My thoughts were disfigured like human mutations.
But still I’m complacent.
The height is my space ship.
The flight’s never basic it’s all in my mind,
lost in my thoughts it’s the type I would need an enormous compass to find.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Pet Hate.
A carnivore canine may
defecate the street, yet I,
a herbivore human, can’t.
It is because our access
to sewers are sealed with
cast iron manhole covers.
This was my pet hate, the
reason I tied him to a gate
post and abandoned him.
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 4:46 AM UTC
Poignancy of nature drawing in
Man, Fish or Herbivore
The point they can’t see
Of a stranger crawling in:
*San, ***** or Holy War…*?
Metamorphosis explodes
better transform back
Matter emphasis exposed…
The latter transforms, Black!!
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC