"oinking" poems
Are things really as they seem to be ? ......He was trying to explain his vision to a friend, who was listening with a Bent ear, that kept some of the Truth from entering into the ear canal and properly vibrating the ear drum. Thereby, making for a somewhat distorted message .. And the "Stirring-Vision" was explained and detailed as follows: "There was this dog I had, that instead of Barking , it meowed and wanted out in the Middle of the Night. And,there was this Cat I had, that instead of meowing, it Barked and it wanted to jump up on people and wag it's tail. There was this horse I had, that instead of wanting to come into the Barn at night, it preferred to lay in the Mud-Wallow. And, there was this Hog I had, that instead of Oinking and wanting slop for food, would try to jump the fence to get to the Salt-Lick.. There was this Rooster I had, that instead of crowing in the early morning, it let out Bleats and desired to chew on cans. And, there was this goat I had, that instead of wanting to climb everything, spent most of its day in the Hen house , as if it were an egg inspector. There was this Parrot I had, that instead of repeating words that were taught to him, simply called out .."Please Milk Me". And , there was this cow I had, that instead of wanting to have a peaceful day of chewing it's Cud, spent almost all the waking hours, Repeating every word it had ever heard. Then, I saw this snake , crawling away into the tall grass, trying to get away before it was discovered. Yes, there's something about snakes, just always trying to change things. Slithering away, as blame on changes, goes to another as he claims his credits !
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
What if...
Cows and pigs could fly?
Riding the breezes way up high?
Like four-legged gas bags
grazing the clouds.
Mooing and oinking
as they float all around.
But one thing I’m sure
I would not like to see.
Is one perched on a limb,
right above me.
© 2000 Guy Workman
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 2:16 PM UTC
Here comes Mr. Wolf
trying to pull the wool over my eyes
but those fangs are protuding
from underneath your disguise!
Hey, old carnivore buddy!
I'm not a little lamb
So don't come sneaking about
when I got a shotgun in my hands!
Dear Mr. Wolf
Please know it is a late hour
Came back another day
My heart's a tough one to devour!
You can't have my grandmother, either
You go before it's too late
I'd rather shoot off your hind end
then end up on your plate!
Mr. Wolf, you creature of trouble!
Why are you in sheep's clothes?
All decked out in innocent finery
but those pointed ears and that long nose!
Will you huff?
And blow my world down?
Will you puff?
And level my house to the ground?
You can huff and puff
and do that all day
but I'll be the one
to blow you away!
Oops, wrong fairy tale!
Those little oinking hogs, three
Your sure have an appetite
For anything that looks tasty!
Go find a rabbit to chase
or in the hen house for a chicken
Don't stand in my doorway
with your chops a'lickin!
I know Mr. Wolf
It's been a while in between meals
But I'm not easy prey
I'm not so easy to steal
Hey, I might be the famous girl
in the red hood
But I'm not all that wholesome
I'm not all that good
I'm a girl of the twenty-first century
Not fainting and weak, but tough
Sorry you could not get what you wanted
I'm not so sweet and accepting, not enough!
Tail between his legs
Mr. Wolf finally retreats
regretting that it's not like the old days
when it would be easier for a meal to eat
Wow! That was a close one, the scared little girl said
That old critter didn't know the real me
I wore my cape and hood like he wore his wool
shielding my trembling so he'd leave me be!
Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 6:36 PM UTC
The buzzing of the bees,
The flitter- twitters of the butterflies,
The cuckoo of the roster and
The oinking of the pigs.
The ringing of the doorbells,
The beeping of the alarm,
The fizzing of the soft drinks and
The sizzling of the hot oil.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
*why is the recognition of genius always a recognition of it taking place in kindergarden? i masturbated before i could produce ***** i taught a boy to do it too, i can tell you the male opera is purely muscular, i don’t know how the un-automated thought / soul was attached to explaining the futility of life as the futility of ***** seen without “motherly love.” i squeeze in white, red and ***** from my body, that’s not even the parallels of the russian flag, but it’s what i am in sentence. i yanked the noun now, but i was yanking the thing before it became a noun and a cognitive calculation used / unused in candlelight on friday’s expectation exasperated: bedded but not wedded. cheat philosophy using grammar, grammaticised is also philosophised.*
i speak my vanity sometimes,
no wonder i grasp
the root of ferns with care
to water them into acknowledging
a belonging in salzburg
when nothing was cherished there -
so took to making london a symphony,
no. 4 in a# and new year's eve:
but i always liked oinking second names and third names
with a confirmation of the church to make
white napkins purple velvet...
to avoid the idol hammer mush and the... lucky ********
deciphering spies of the crossword.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/5/2019
Sitting on the perch the rooster boasted:
soon the king of swimmers I'll be
and laurel wreath I will get:
Cos the champion of champions I am in this respect!
The hens, excited, clucked in admiration,
small yellow chicks silently listened in awe,
oinking happily were the piglets,
and the ducks? Like crazy they laughed!
Wieslaw Musialowski 10/15/2001
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
take me to the slaughter house
and behead me like the
pig that I know that I am
—raw and oinking,
squealing with gluttony
and delight
and shame:
the ugly ******* who
roasts me on an open flame;
licking my belly, large
and content and
although I attend church,
I never once prayed
for the body of a sparrow, this was always just
the direction in which I flew
I pray to be devoured:
finished with
licking lips & extended
bellies. I ask of you to eat me &
then never think of
my taste again
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
.
& Every Single
******* day
We wake up
And act out some worthless ******* drama
That is even more stupid
Than the one we acted out yesterday !!
( hence the term
" **** for brains "
Was created to describe us )
••
Every fuckingly ugly day
Some ******* ugly " news guy "
Tells us what some OBVIOUSLY
phony ******* dressed in some pig suit
Is oinking on about
Some presidential election ********
And Muslims and Christians and Jews
And other non - existant entities are imagined
In some non - existant reality
To be doing
While we listen to some *******
So - called music tell us
That life is to be surrendered to some ******* OTHER
PERSON
who says
I LOVE YOU
( like a politician or priest )
And we
( obedient zombies )
Give up our true sense of self
And start fornicating
Till madness and suicidal notions
Overwhelm us
and we go vote for something
Or choose someone to own & control us
Or take some drug to own and control us
So we can make this DAY
even more ******* stupid
Than YESTERDAY !
<>
when you understand this you
Can start it be free
When you are free you can start
To be human
//.//
You can start to LOVE whenever you want
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
I think that I shall never see
A sight as strange as a flying pig .
A winged pig that snout is sky-wised pushed
Against the earth’ fantastic slopping roundness
A winged pig who may fly all day,
And lifts whimsicality toward higher climes;
A pig that flutters in the icy air
A flap of wings and oinking there ;
Upon whose flight our imagination ascend
Our imitations in inward horizon up-sweeps logic .
Fall guys like me write poems,
But only metaphors like flying pigs
Can rise in ink stained skies and barnstorm
the very gates of eternity with winged couplets.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC