By the run of wine, by Champagne's flow,
Swine did dine and watch the show,
'tween Squelch and Squeal, they Screamed, "Bravo!"
As merry went, did jolly go,

They drink their drinks, they oinked along,
To cabarets enchanting song,
So hypnotized, it won't be long,
'til Something goes horribly wrong....

For how were the jolly hogs to know
That butchers sat in the fifth row?
As blades grew sharp, their haste did grow,
Impatient to get on the go,

The sows were deafened by the tune,
The boars blinded by drunkards view,
But tact is what the butchers do,
But time at hand is profit due...  

So nice the price of pork these days,
And chops and ribs are all the craze,
A roast in beer with honey glaze...
Makes fortunes for the butchers blades.

Had the swine been wise, for moments thought,
To greed they are cash to caught,
They could have run, they could have fought
And not been swine to the onslaught,

But they danced and sang, stupid and heavy
As butchers killed the swine of many,
That now sit in pieces, at a deli,
Their wage in wallet, meat in belly.

does everyone
know you
are a swine?
she sweetly asked.

no i oinked at her
keep my secret safe

my wings
confuse her
as
i flew
away
like a weightless
poem
with a simple ring
of humbleness
secured

on  the snout of my nose.

but nowhere is the sun more poignant
than in october drizzle
with downcast grey limits of the sky expanding
with a diaphragm placed inside the lungs of clouds evaporating
but the same clouds merely scouting,
to fake masculinity to fake femininity
and abide by the embryo’s chance of oinked blossom,
where a man sits in the earthenware of thought
kissing a book’s page of the last line he didn’t write but spoke,
and says that man resides in the hemisphere above
the churning metalloid chisel and the howling winded bagpipe,
that a whiskey at 10am allows all the fun but no company,
that each word although not exactly onomatopoeia is just that,
a sound in echo without a cavern solitude of exfoliating shadow,
that it’s just that, a sound abbreviated by concentrated strain on the eye
in “pure” reading of verse,
but then the smooch on the page of previous sounds resounds highest, cherished,
because man is so easily lullabied in the numbers to his own frankenstein
of machine upon machine upon machine:
his tractor broke but the nonetheless the wheat was scythed,
that’s the fate of man,
resound man to the gong of your chiral chimera in kantian residue of thought!
resound to be fated as the abducted by numbers - by those first
parameters of thoughts - resound i say, resound! echo ageless
and steer that buckling ship into the hoof echoes of the waves
braving the endless night! resound i tell you! let no coward no rat
off the guillotine!
ah but i too stand removed from moving an inch further into
a blossoming digression that might allow me a sense,
perhaps sight, perhaps hearing, perhaps tongue in tongs
be the next snippet of sound that i might be an usher to,
but whatever fates await us, i too will have said more than the hammer
and the revered horse’s snout in gallop, i too will have added to
the synchronisation of all things apparent,
and with these symbols i have aided a complication for the chinese,
who’s own phonetic symbolism master crafted
the mathematical genius in them,
to have no coupling like the post-roman dogs did zeros with
omicrons and omegas,
so that they peered into the parentage of one begot two
two begot three three begot four etc.
with more ease than we could never envision
unless starring into our western mandarin of: ♪, ♫.
never will you debase these symbols to write an onomatopoeia
of a dog's bark! you'll call it what it is, and then write me
a symphony in due course to erase the clamour
of rusty metal sounds kept as the heartbeat of refrigerators.

Salted in my sausage casing was my dead best friend.

Had he oinked much sooner, he would be a grandpa then

After experiencing a severe,
albeit violent near lethal bout
of irritable bowel syndrome
(yesterday night August 30th, 2023)
triggered courtesy dulcolax caplets plus
healthy portion of lentils,
I (a beatle browed, foo fighting,
night ranger needing nirvana)
imperiled me to twist and shout
as a whirling dervish analogous
to F5 tornado bread a deep purple
to kiss earth, wind and fire
hopscotching across terrestrial plain.

Irritable bowel syndrome
in my pinion wracked
lower abdominal area (mine)
bubbled, gurgled and ballooned
sub stomach gastrointestinal tract
vis a vis flatulence crooned
in tandem with subsequent expulsion
explosively eliminated ***** waste
witnessed this scribe forcibly
zipping, sprinting, jetting to bathroom,

self propulsion (a race against time)
nsync with contraction of sphincter muscles'
spasmodically, desperately braced
body electric of mine hurled
at light speed across the universe
courtesy unpleasant symptoms
that mimicked anxiety/ panic attack,
which tortuousness, odorousness, insidiousness,
horrendousness, gaseousness, arduousness...
played mean game of (gastrointestinal
knick knack paddywhack havoc.

Ofttimes in the past
irritable bowel syndrome
affrighted, afflicted, and affected me,
hence yours truly no stranger
to making light of offal plight
and even managing to craft poem
else my alias not mister rhyme stir,
who found himself held hostage
self barricaded in the water closet,
where thoughts about mooning

did not crack a smile,
more explicitly baring derriere
tubby more exact
humor did little to cheer me up -
matter of fact
no source of laughter manifested,
(despite usual presence of chuckles
from this fan of good humor) hijacked
for what seemed a maternity leave
from all mothers tub be

thus envision, a bevy of pregnant gals
aching with cramps heave
ving (times square of the hippopotamus)
with ****** fully dilated key
ping alert, when mother nature ready
to pull out all stops (via umbilical cord)
to deliver bundle of joy followed
in quick succession with after birth re:
placental sack, hence
said effort to expel newborn

the closest scenario
experienced ill suited
to Saint Vitus dance
afflicting this anxiety prone
lovely bones, an all expense
paid (seat of the pants)
accursed bane of proletariat grants
no truce to attend
found me pampered doubled over stance.

Modus operandi to distract
against acute pain crisis
yielded impossible mission
exhibited courtesy haphazard poem  
awaiting unsolicited feedback
across rock of ages woke
beguiling ghostly ***** spectre
courtesy Marie-Antoinette,
(i.e. bride of France's arty choke
King Louis XVI) bespoke

let him eat cake, and (sic)
send back the ****** bloke,
aye suddenly begot idea rye
Jack Corner of zee desk
didst impale and provoke
moderately painful injury
right side rib cage
analogous to intriguing
unfortunate circumstance
mysterious secret shrouded

as dagger and cloak
(think Alfred E. Neuman,
viz MAD Magazine), yes no joke
lovely bones of me body electric,
(particularly right side rib cage)
severely traumatized, nailed, injured...
crucified oft told umteen times,
yet omitting key mirrors and smoke,
significant Dorian Gray parallel,
when former antique,

viz secrétaire looking glass reflection,
spider hairline fractures radiated
resembled bay of pigs in a poke
ham handedly oinked,
quaked, shattered... broke
into bajillion pieces
deafening, exploding,
glowering thunder stroke
jagged shrapnel size shards
unleashed cosmic force
lacerated, gnashed, beribboned...

impeaching flesh with
one engulfed masterstroke,
no rhyme nor reason aiming to choke
off promising poet (ha) of corpse
resembling scrambled egg yolk
posthumous fame besmoke
salvaged mine besmirched reputation
courtesy humble cartoon character
bugs bunny and kinfolk spoke
daffy fully goofily
eulogizing humor did evoke.