"mafia" poems
Following are several translations
of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be
the most famous of all haiku:
Furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
-- Basho
Literal Translation
Fu-ru (old) i-ke (pond) ya,
ka-wa-zu (frog) to-bi-ko-mu (jumping into)
mi-zu (water) no o-to (sound)
The old pond--
a frog jumps in,
sound of water.
Translated by Robert Hass
Old pond...
a frog jumps in
water's sound.
Translated by William J. Higginson
An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.
Translated by Harry Behn
There is the old pond!
Lo, into it jumps a frog:
hark, water's music!
Translated by John Bryan
The silent old pond
a mirror of ancient calm,
a frog-leaps-in splash.
Translated by Dion O'Donnol
old pond
frog leaping
splash
Translated by Cid Corman
Antic pond--
frantic frog jumps in--
gigantic sound.
Translated by Bernard Lionel Einbond
MAFIA HIT MAN POET: NOTE FOUND PINNED TO LAPEL
OF DROWNED VICTIM'S DOUBLE-BREASTED SUIT!!!
'Dere wasa dis frogg
Gone jumpa offa da logg
Now he inna bogg.'
-- Anonymous
Translated by George M. Young, Jr.
Old pond
leap -- splash
a frog.
Translated by Lucien Stryck
The old pond,
A frog jumps in:.
Plop!
Translated by Allan Watts
The old pond, yes, and
A frog is jumping into
The water, and splash.
Translated by G.S. Fraser
11.2k
A panacea,
the band aid word I
slap on conflict
A solve it all
Acronym for nothing and
Diffuser of
All scenarios.
the more politely phrased version of
The mafia's cry.
But no matter how you slant the saying,
It's still salient- and a parched, bleached lie.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
****
I didn't wanna have to do it,
I didnt wanna have to do it,,
"But like always they give me no choice"
Maybe those ******** from the mafia,
Had a point,
I gave you my trust,
Now I'm mad, sitting outside smoking a joint,
That my cousin gave me yesterday,
After he told me not trust no one,
I was really down for you,
You were the one that loved everyone,
Sarcasm is a ***** ain't it,
And around here,
I'm already famous,
I feel like y'all talking behind my back,
So when I actually snap and react,
You'd think I'm ******* dangerous,
I swear to god,
I will never put my trust in anyone again,
I swear to god,
I will never put my trust in anyone again,
Theres no resilience about ya,
Theres no resilience about ya,
I knew I had to doubt ya,
I knew I had to doubt ya.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
A truck driver from Tupelo
A pop band from the 'pool
A superstar from Hoboken,
And one...the King of Cool
The superstar from Hoboken
Became the Chairman of The Board
If you made it into his 'rat pack'
You knew you'd really scored
His movies and his music
Made him the world's number one
But he had to minimize his world
When someone stole his son
His boy was kidnapped, truthfully
Back in 1965
And through his contacts in the mob
He got his son back home alive
This is the price of fame folks
Behind the glitter and the glam
They've got to have their safety
But the fans don't give a ****
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
The Memphis Mafia gave protection
To The King of Rock and Roll
But, by choice his world got smaller
And he went into a hole
He built a house in Memphis
To protect him from his fans
And thanks to Dr. Feelgood
He died a lonely, broken man
He couldn't live the life he earned
He was a prisioner instead
It's a shame he has more value
Now that he is dead
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
He'd a partner and was cool
He was suave and sang songs
And he worked with a "fool"
They conquered the nightclubs
They were known near and far
But his created alter ego
Lived his life at the bar
He ran with Frank Sinatra
He was the King of Cool
But when The Chairman started lessons
Dean was right there in his school
The Beatles broke in Hamburg
But way back in sixty two
Their bubble was just forming
There was nothing they could do
They lived their life behind the scenes
For when they did go out
The girls would all go crazy
And the world would twist and shout
Privacy came hard for them
They went four separate ways
These four young men from Liverpool
LIved life inside a maze.
It's sad that adulation
takes their freedom, makes them hide
But they're safer locked away from us
They're safer locked inside
Prisoners of their own success
Their world's now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
You, saying love
You, shaman's road
You, a bird
You, a yellow sun
You, Emperor
You, lovely door
You, my Walt Whitman
You, Neal
You, Sal Paradise
You, Pancho Villa
You, La Revolución Mexicana
You, navajo
You, the border
You, the river
You, chicana
You, Mafia
You, redemption
You, poetry
You, Salvador Dalí
You, Picasso
You, stereo
You, love
You, ***
You, youth
You, America
You, América
You, español
You, english
You, country side
You, cat
You, fire
You, books
You, E. E. Cummings
You, Bukowski
You, Octavio Paz
You, Coca-Cola
You, Coke
You, India
You, Mississippi
You, jazz
You, Miles
You, Davis
You, water
You, rain
You, lagoon
You, chest
You, car
You, road
You, reading
You, lines
You, Paris
You, Baudelaire
You, Poe
You, japanese
You, katana
You, Mishima
You, gun
You, rifle
You, cam
You, can
You, can't
You, Durango
You, Arizona
You, desert
You, gonzo
You, mezcal
You, alcohol
You, drive
You, crush
You, alive
You, again
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
I keep my head up,
lips snarled and puckered,
teeth show,
nose high,
squinted eyes,
you can see death in them.
I look to the left,
I look to the right,
now it's time to fight,
3-2-1 take flight,
we go all night,
keep my fist packed tight,
and if I lose I'll be back looking through my iron sight.
This is the law of the land,
dog eat dog,
tooth for tooth,
an eye for eye,
kill or be killed,
I'm a killer with a blood instinct.
Came up in the mafia vicinage,
we live life this ain't no scrimmage,
live by Omerta it ain't no image,
living life without problems is a privilege,
when you start talking to cops you finished,
that's how we get down in my evil village,
nothing changed we all living vintage,
I can see you coming in with your gimmick,
don't try to test my limit,
I'm Popeye on steroids and spinach.
Rimani persone reali.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Millionaires in empty boxes
barricaded in bath robes.
Self-righteous sundries
sit still for that sunset they'll
never see, like "Layla" playing
with a gang of good fellas.
The trench took a bit, but
they're not worried. It will be
filled-in still-lifes well before
wives find out. Tough love
rises above the rest; especially
when you're pumping hot lead.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
The Mafia and the Pope
the Italian mafia wanted to take control
they wanted control of the church and all its wealth
the leader Anthony “The Boss” Gambatti sent his muscle
to secure an audience with the Pope
Johnny “the Eye” and his storm troopers
pushed by the guards
into the Pope's secretary's office
Arch Bishop Spinozza
sprung to his feet to confront the noise
Johnny “the Eye”, he got that name
after he lost his left eye in a knife fight
and replaced it with a glass oversized eye
that always looked straight ahead
a burning cigarette hanging from his lips
he got right in the Bishops face
“The Boss” wants a meeting with his Royalness
“and he wants it now”
the Bishop well aware of his visitors
and there violent ways
backing away from the smoke in his face
told Johnny that he would arrange a meeting
“tomorrow” he said “tomorrow”
Johnny cocked his head
so that his large fake eye was an inch from
the Bishops nose
flicked the ashes from his cigarette
on the shoes of the Bishop
turning to walk away
“tomorrow” he said
Anthony “The Boss”
dressed in his fine 5K Italian silk suit
leather gloves
black silk fedora
accompanied by his entourage'
walked into the Popes office the next day
he sat in a chair in front of the Pope's desk
“What can I do for you Anthony?” asked the Pope
the two had grown up as school mates
and had maintained a relationship
though not close
“Carlos, I think it is time we work out
a financial aggreement with each other”
“being that the church is known for giving,
I think it is time for you to give me some money,
a lot of money”
“I have many expenses to address”
“to insure that this happens”
I want you to make love to a woman”
“and if I refuse such a horrid task? quizzed the Pope
“I will begin removing all of your Bishops,
one every hour, from all over the world”
”and it won't be pretty” responded Anthony
The Pope, obviously shaken with the proposal
got up from his chair, his face in his hands
paced back and forth for a few minutes
“I will agree to your disgusting request
on three conditions” said the Pope.
“and what are those conditions?” asked Anthony
“1st this woman must be blind,
so that she cannot see who defiles her body”
“2nd this woman must be deaf,
so that she cannot hear any hint of who defiles her body”
“and 3rd your holiness?”
“3rd, this woman must have really really big ****
Gomer Lepoet...
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Wake me up I'm falling
Stuttering and stalling
With nowhere to run, and no place to hide
A beast deep inside,
Is rising
Rise, like a tidal wave
Rise, to every lie they gave
Rise, for it is your time,
To slay all these haters with power of rhyme
Freedom of expression helps fight depression...
Moment of silence
On an empty stomach
Then comes a rumble
At the smell of apple pie crumble
Moon is out of this world
Annie is our favourite girl
I hope no-one else sees this
**And starts singing about my *****
****** mind in a slaughter house
Anti-Ducks about this life
But with a Kiwi accent if I may
Tis "Anti-Ducks about this life"
We went outside,
Still high
Decided to munch and play games
Forgot our phones outside
Smash the boundaries,
Tear down the walls
Won't stop tearing
Til' we seen Ben's *****
Break down barriers,
Smack 'em down
Walking past ducker-fuckers
Delirious like a clown
Smiling all the way
With a crazy little laugh
On this spectacular journey
Into the past
It's time to get to the end of this family rhyme
We all pitched in with whatever we could find
It's beautiful and grand, a real sight to see
This Mafia family of mine
It's our time our life
Crazy running red lights
Grand stand, stage band time to curtain call
But it never ends, we fam!
(Tight!)
*Annie's the funniest girl
Her hair blazes like sunset
But she keeps talking about my *****
I mean seriously...
She done yet???*
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
[Verse]
Tell these ******* I’m queen, tell these ******* I’m gold
If you been where I’ve been, then you’d probably turn cold
I give a **** ‘bout you ******* who got a problem with me
I do **** for myself, nobody got it for me
You got an issue with me, but you ain’t licensed to speak
‘Cause I be feedin’ the streets, your *** is nothin’ to me
I’ve been hot with the lyrics and I’ve been dope with the fashion
I said I want it I need, I done spoke, I take action
And when you talkin’ I’m workin’, I’m gettin’ things I’m deservin’
But at a point I was hurtin’ and gettin’ nothin’ like virgins
I be takin’ my time, I’m only twenty years old
Nobody ****** with Coca, I tell them suckers “go home”
***** I’m hype ‘cause I’m certified, all my ******* qualified
****** with my team, finna get your face modified
What you comin’ for me? I ain’t scared, fam’
I eat them J’s off your feet with my bare hands
Stupid-ass ***** just stop
‘Cause I ain’t finna tolerate this **** you talk
Unless the ***** a boss she gettin’ boxed
They said Coca been on, and ***** you not
I be ‘bout it but I ain’t the type to start ****
Asian ***** never a fool, always some smart ****
Who you playin’? I done learned the game
Nobody teachin’ me **** ‘cause me and you not the same
So get to suckin’ ***** you talk too much
You get a bit of ****** fame, think you popular
You twerkin’ for a name, ****** bought you stuff
I make my own **** money, and I shop enough
They say I lie about the **** I do
Now you flexin’ ‘cause Coca ain’t ****** with you
***** swerve – I make moves, it’s the truth
This the mafia, ***** – who you?
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Ever had the feeling of being trapped in a glass box
with the air slowly running out, with every breath?
In sun, rain, snow and storm, the box gets dark or warm
but what you can do always remains the same.
Have you just simply wanted to walk away or break free?
To travel the world taming Lion cubs and petting great white sharks?
To wake up to a sunrise in a Dutch farm and watch it set over the Mediterranean sea?
To teach children in Thailand or India?
To salsa on the streets of Mexico or be blinded by the lights in Dubai?
Have you ever wanted to be border-less?
To not be punished for being born in a country
where the sun is hot and people are poor?
Have you ever just wanted to work, get a place, pay taxes,
and not ignore the growling of your stomach
so your 5 pound takeaway stretches over 3 days
postponing the date to buy the next food stock?
Have you ever wanted to check your bank account
without having your fingers crossed, because
even though you know the exact balance
you hope by some miracle it will be more?
Have you prayed for immigration to back the hell off
leaving you to make a living without risking deportation?
Have you ever got tired of playing by the rules when
the Albanian Mafia and Walmart
makes more money per hour than what you'd make in a lifetime, or two?
With heart aches and emotional games, and
attending Sunday mass becoming more of a cliché,
with rejection and doors closed,
at the cost of owning a brown passport,
with your head spinning and back against the wall,
have you wondered what life wants from you at all?
To all the women being trafficked for ***
and the children slaving away spinning Persian carpets,
tonight it's too cold to snow outside my glass box.
Inside, it's too sad to cry...
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
In Battalion,
Misery is served in a thousand ways.
Misery is served in buckets of rain
and hours of wind.
Unyielding, soul-sucking cold and wet.
Porous jungle boots that invite the frigid water in and soften your feet for a relentless 30 mile march.
Misery is served in a stifling aircraft flying Nap of the Earth.
A nauseating rollercoaster ride that never fails to elicit
chain reaction vomiting from the paratroopers rigged to jump.
Misery is served at pool PT
When your arms and legs feel like lead
and drowning is a better alternative
than the aquatic torture that you’re enduring.
Misery is served during blistering Company runs
led by the Commander
who was a college decathlete.
Runs where the strongest of us
pulled aside, emptied our stomachs,
and rejoined the formation.
Misery is served by no warning alerts
separating families and lovers
for indefinite periods,
sometimes forever.
Misery is served by the Spec 4 Mafia
Unleashing Hell on new Rangers
testing their threshold for ****
Misery is served by road marches, prickly heat,
Black Palm, and sawgrass. It’s served by desert heat,
Arctic cold, and the stench of the world’s worst places.
Misery is served by the loss of brothers in war and training,
gone too soon to join the Great Ranger in the Sky.
Through it all, misery hardened my body and strengthened my soul.
It made me a warrior and ushered me into a Brotherhood that will be with me until we all sit at the great table in Valhalla.
So on this Veteran’s Day
Embrace the ****
Endure the pain
Invite the Misery
For that’s what makes us
Men amongst Men
Rangers Lead The Way.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
Seventeen years ago
America was shaken to the core.
Since not too long after that
We've been involved in a non-stop war.
Homeland security
Became an issue that since then
Hoped to assure Americans
That such attacks won't happen again.
During the past seventeen years
Many measures have been taken
To make us safe; however, it's time
For sleeping minds to reawaken.
Lacking foresight, our president
Has gone after the people who
Have worked to make us safe. The man
Doesn't seem to have a clue.
Discrediting investigators,
Removing them from key positions,
And pulling security clearances
Because of paranoid suspicions
Will only make us vulnerable
To future terrorist attacks.
Watch how his Republican friends
In Congress support him. Political hacks!
The president also hates
When investigators eye
American involvement with
The Russian mafia. We know why.
It's hard to watch as the president--
With almost each careless endeavor--
Stupidly goes out of his way
To make us more unsafe than ever.
-by Bob B (9-11-18)
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
jamie taught us salt,
nigella, the art of the beef stew
cake boss, the art of chocolate fondant,
the mafia
so rich and chewy
mafia,
the true american dream
richness and trophies and abraham
the mob engulfs the flames of life.
Nigel asleep in his room
sound, it wakes him
Nigel, he says
remember the naked chef
remember him
forever
Nigel goes downstairs
pours a glass of milk
grabs a cupcake
one boxed
he cries a tear of shame
as he remembers
Jamie Oliver
his queen
his Kingsley
his Oakley
his larry
his life
was a box of chocolate
he grabbed the caramel
but was greedy and seized the brie also
it was a sad day
as Nigel fell
off the cliff of life
into a hovel of doom...
the mob,
Nigel,
all attached
no way out
Brie
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Ya'll should be scared
We coming for ya'll ******
Its the ************* mafia
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
How does it feel to roll in your own filth,
Stupid human beings never learn,
Nadda- zip- zilch ,
Tie your muthafucking mouth up with duck tape,
Two of you ******* wouldn't last,
Instead you contemplate,
I mean,
Ones desperate,
And ones going thru post dramatic stress,
But I guess it doesn't matter,
Cause beneath me lies pest,
With ****** female organs,
Excuse my french but is this be a grandma really important,
That's why I don't allow stupid or old people in my groups,
Cause they know about everything,
Including you,
**** **** it,
I don't care if you join the mafia or make your thing,
But there's no discussion,
Of a big mistake you two dummy's are making,
**** ya!!!!!!!!
So when everything is kosher and its time to pay dues,
Hey ! Poetic mafia ! I'm giving them to you,
These two :-)
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
I'm grateful for my family in ink I think that I'd be insane in the brain I was a lyrical lame now I found I can spit bars with the best they pushed me to the brink beyond my limits I'm in this for life Drs Joke, Midnight Writer, Blue Star with the heart and Cashby, Natasha, Mandy Nothing could tear my poetic family apart we argue and have our issues but it's solved within so we can continue to become stronger as people and as lyricists while I split heads as the poetic mafia axe murderer I'll serve ya like a platter cut your *** like class and watch ya brains splatter all other emcees better scatter poetic blades out and slice and dice like vanilla ices career ending faster like the flash while we make a splash in poetic pools of blood it's like we opened up a dam with a creative flood
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
I’d heard about social networking,
And how it was the next big thing,
So I just had to take a look,
And ended up on Facebook.
It only took me a little while,
To fill out most of my profile,
But I have spent many a night,
Figuring out the rest of the site.
I never realized I had so many friends,
The friend requests never end,
All the people I can’t stand at work,
And now the biggest high school ****
I have to admit I’ve learned a bunch,
I know what all my friends eat for lunch,
And it really helps me that I know,
Everyone’s favorite TV show.
The work on Facebook never stops,
I have to water my imaginary crops,
Send get-well wishes to Farmville quick,
My friend’s imaginary cow got sick.
I now realize my chances are dire,
Of ever building a Mafia empire,
And perhaps it is a bit of a shame,
My It Girl will never go on to fame.
My kids' statuses tell me of their life,
At dinner time I get poked by the wife,
I try to keep my friend count nice and fat,
So, I even signed up the dog and cat.
I guess you can say my life’s complete,
I have more friends than I’ll ever meet,
On Facebook I can roam far and wide,
And I never have to go outside.
02-19-11.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
The malignant light blinds me into a drunken haze, intoxicating my toes until my body begins to dance, thoughtlessly
Eyes closed, arms open, godly, peaceful, strong
Why doesn't everyone raise their arms to the grateful sky and soak in the golden bath of golden sun, to feel for once in their lives golden
Why do I seem alone in my gentle ****** curve while they seem bland and gray, straight lined lips across their face, a line of soldiers, unforgiving and unbreakable.
Why do I only feel joy?
Thoughts shoot through me like tommy gun bullets through the streets of old Chicago, covered in hot blood, hot money, and hot nights. Drugs in my veins, matches in my pockets, all eyes on me and my mafia heart raising a pistol to my brain and conquering its control.
Baby I like it, the way I move through the floor, seeing the monsters that weren’t there before, descending into maniacal darkness unknown, smiling while I’m screaming, never alone
Sunshine, you are mine, my arms coddle you close, the sunshine endlessly streaming through my fingertips, a buzzing crescendo of ecstasy. You are all mine. This perfect heart contained in the cavity of this body overbeats, skipping steps, tumbling forward, 800 miles per hour, too fast to be caught by the blue-sheilded men who wish to stop it. Stop this heart and stop the world, for it is its red hot core.
Pompous, conceited, it paints itself across my soul, yet I cannot contain what my emotions do, a little twisted, a little crazy, a little unwell.
And then I crash again.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Snitches get stitches
So nobody drops a dime
Meanwhile we're the biggest victims
Of inner city crime
It's happenin' everyday
Without reason or rhyme
Don't cha think it's high time
We change that paradigm
Snitches get stitches
That's the code of the street
But you'll be given up
Once the cops apply the heat
That Mafia example
In real life ain't complete
Cos they're the biggest snitches
That you'll ever meet
Snitches get stitches
And they probably should
If both of ‘em were down
Then it's understood
But if you see sumthin'
Happenin' in the hood
Then you need to say sumthin
Cos I know I would
Snitches get stitches
That's the code of the street
But you'll be given up
Once the cops apply the heat
That Mafia example
In real life ain't complete
Cos they're the biggest snitches
That you'll ever meet
Our mutual destruction
Is clearly assured
If the challenges we're facing
Continually get ignored
Our future salvation
Demands we're of one accord
So let's pray for the strength
As we look towards the Lord
Snitches get stitches
But ya wanna know the truth
It's high time the rest of us
Better stop being aloof
We're dying every day
The statistics are the proof
So let's raise the white flag
And declare a truce
Snitches get stitches
That's the code of the street
But you'll be given up
Once the cops apply the heat
That Mafia example
In real life ain't complete
Cos they're the biggest snitches
That you'll ever meet
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2015. All rights reserved.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
By Arcassin B
Huh, how **** you message me out of the blue,
Talking about you wanna make collabs and colide teams,
***** we don't play for the mafia not even you,
Told them its my year,
Guess I should have warned you,
Calling me a *****
Isn't this the same ***** that told his ex to **** with me,
My message was never replied or sent,
Man I swear you pathetic human beings are beneath me,
Like its more than I need,
But I should have your mom and girl deepthoatin,
Can't touch me,
I'm too jiggy plus potent,
Is it me or are your group a little slow,
Guess dash blew his lid,
Y'all all a bunch of ****
And you should that if you really get this,
On your face,
I take a ****
Doc,
More like the ****
You ****
Get it,
Stop kissin my ***
And go get your own ****
Pathetic!!!! Hahahahahahahah
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
The Creator looked at the elephant and said:
I made you big so you could be gentle
To the mouse he said: I made you small
so you could walk tall
But over millions of years you two could exchange
places and one become the other.
I know I shoved the lot of you in an Ark
Because Noah was being a pesk asking for rain
when his washing machine ran dry
So I had to fill the oceans to stop that old man
from complaining all the time. Besides I needed the bark
from the trees of the Ark to make me a small tug boat
to carry some DNA samples of my own, in case,
the lion ate the cow, the tiger chewed on the cat
and the fox tricked the rest with his cunning ways
You see, my friends, there was no grass, or snakes
or bird cages, or trees for the monkeys to swing on.
I thought of many things before I gave the building plans
to Noah and his sons. Only one was a builder the rest
were bums, who never held a hammer or learned how to
tie two bits of trees together, leave alone building
an ark to hold the worlds whole creation.Thankfully
there were no real estate agents pushing the price up
or bankers charging interest. The mafia thought of charging
an entrance fee for each pair, but before they could do that the rains came pelting down and the tickets got washed away in the storm.
So you see the Ark was a joint venture between
The Americans and Chinese and Indians
because they were willing to multiply quicker
than the rest once Mt Sinai rose up to meet the
oak leviathan from underneath.
And so my dear elephants and mouse
and fox and snake and bird and
lion and tiger. Noah and his wonderful Ark
was a script written well ahead so that Russell Crowe could get
a part playing Noah in a computer generated extravaganza
where only the actors and actresses who could afford
to pay a price to be in it - were involved.
The rest of mankind be ******
Author Notes
Quirky.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
**** the good stuff
Let's talk about the bad stuff
In the end it's all fury and cotton…
There's a spider-web in my palm
The center is a smiley-face
With X'es for eyes
And I feel my tongue
Becoming numb and salty
Maybe potassium
And who are you
With your glasses
And your street smarts
I'm quite ok with being
Unimpressive an ignorant
To your standards
A mafia with some ****** mixed in
That's how you're perceived by me
No code, no guts, no loyalty
And you talk, and I listen
I even engage you, polite as I am
I don't bet, but I'd gamble
You have a barcode on your soul
And if I could explain, I bet you'd listen
A set of letters on your payroll
And your set of ways
Is equivalent to
Mistreatment of an animal
But your tactics and lack of tact
Suggest treatment of an alien
An I bet on the movies
You're not sheep, just orphans
Begging for a leader
A rite of passage
And here goes my empathy
Imaginary places and genes
And I don't bet, but I'd gamble
You have a barcode on your soul
And hell yes, I'm in it right now
**** the good stuff
Let's talk about the bad stuff
In the end it's all fury and cotton
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:21 PM UTC
"There were good people on both sides."
Donald Trump's father was a card-carrying Klansman
& Trump learned everything he knows about business
from Roy Cohen, a notoriously evil self-hating homosexual,
gangster, politician, mouthpiece for the Mafia
& aide-de-camp to the same Joseph McCarthy
who engineered the Red Scare & subsequent blacklisting
of Hollywood's best & most creative talent;
this is Donald Trump's history & education & legacy -
why is a man POTUS who lied, cheated & paid hush money;
[the only way he knows how to do business];
he loves dictators, who laugh behind his back,
& even to his stupid, clueless face;
Trump's 'base' composed of desperate, angry morons
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC