Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thomas Harper Oct 2014
...and then PETA showed up and wanted to know whether there were sufficient air holes for the lamb to breathe and how the separating of the lamb from its mom went and whether or not the box was organic and free of all chemicals known to cause allergic reactions among lambkind.

The prince pulled out his legally concealed pistol and shot the PETA representative.

The ACLU, not arguing with the prince's right to carry the legally concealed weapon, but objecting to his failure to alert the PETA representative before shooting him, offered to take on the case of PETA v Prince for free, as long as PETA would agree not to protest the Jack In The Box deliveries that would be a thrice daily occurrence while the ACLU readied itself for trial.

The prince, misunderstanding ACLU's motivation and fearing the eventual loss of his right to legally concealed weapons, looked a little harder and deeper at the box and, voila, miracle of miracles, began to see apocalyptic scibblings regarding the fast-approaching war of Armageddon and the importance of a "well-armed militia" in the winning of that unavoidable conflict.

Recognizing the chance to shore up the faithful -- and put to shame the rest -- the Christian Coalition adopted the prince's message and gave it more teeth.  They stoked the flames of hellfire, added more levels to the depths of hades, and notched up the sufferings to those found guilty by their Lord, the Good Shepherd.

The ACLU responded, adding the Christian Coalition to the complaint.

The battle lines were drawn.  The ACLU and PETA stood on one side and the Christian -Coalition and the NRA stood on the other.

People argued and screamed and fought and condemned.

Then, a little boy of five, wiser than his years and saddened by the preemption of his favorite cartoons in favor of live coverage of the proceedings noticed something nobody else had.  Neither side any longer had a picture of the lamb.  So he drew his own.
judy smith Feb 2016
With winter and awards shows upon us, the celebrity-obsessed wonder, "What are they wearing?" When it's fur, you wonder, "Why are they wearing it?"

Fur makes the shapeliest star look like a pudgy cave-dweller. Kim and Kanye become dumpy mall rats when they pile on the pelts. The matter of animals by the dozen being electrocuted for a single coat is of no interest to the self-absorbed duo.

Fortunately, the most admired and articulate personalities are speaking out. After winning a Golden Globe last month, Taraji P. Henson said, "I love clothes and to dress up, but no fur. Stella McCartney laced me with all these incredible faux furs." Taraji's ex-con character Cookie on Empire may have a fur fetish, but Taraji ditched the fur from her closets after seeing raccoon dogs skinned alive for fashion in a PETA documentary on HBO. She then ditched all of her clothes to star in a "Rather Go Naked Than Wear Fur" ad, which she unveiled at PETA's Fashion Week party with fellow animal advocate Tim Gunn.

Another dynamo who removed the unsightly hair from her back — I'm talking about fur — is the fabulous Wendy Williams. In addition to her daily talk show, Williams now hosts Wendy's Style Squad to cover red carpet fashions. "Fur is not the mark of success anymore," she said at the photo shoot for her PETA campaign, which she unveiled live on her show.

Sia led the charge this winter, with this imaginative computer-generated spot in which animal models strut down the catwalk in human skin.

And then there's Pink. "I would like to say I've always been fur-free so I could be proud of myself," says the pop icon. "Unfortunately, I went through a selfish phase and wore fur on a couple of occasions. But I wised up and now boycott fur completely. I wish everyone was forced to learn the horrors that these animals go through for fashion trends. I hope fur wearers get bitten in the *** by the same kind of animal they wear on their back." She took this message to the masses on a PETA billboard in New York's Times Square and stars with Ricky Gervais in avideo about fur and exotic skins.

Who else is fur-free? Lena Dunham, Rooney Mara, Jessica Chastain, Angelina Jolie, Kristen Stewart, Charlize Theron, and Natalie Portman, to name only a few.

Sharon Osbourne, who won a People's Choice Award last month for The Talk, says, "The reasons I stopped wearing fur were because I was educating myself through documentaries on what goes into actually making these fur coats and fur scarves that I was wearing, and when I realized how it was done I was sickened." Sharon hosts PETA's newest video showing how hundreds of chinchillas have their necks snapped for just one fur coat.

Many of you may be thinking, OK — gross — but I don't wear fur. Terrific! I'll end by suggesting you take another evolutionary step by visiting PETA.org to watch Joaquin Phoenix, Eva Mendes, and Pamela Anderson reveal how less-furry animals live and die before ending up in someone's closet.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015
Mike Hauser Nov 2013
I just received a letter of warning
From the people of PETA no doubt
Informing me they've seen my new picture
I think the chicken must have ratted me out

Well you can rest cause I can assure you
In the picture no poultry was harmed
And the chicken also was taken
From a free range organic natural farm

The letter held all the usual jargon
About lawyers and lawsuits and such
It's not like the chicken was wasted
After filming I had her over for lunch

So let me tell all you people at PETA
Don't get your ******* all up in a ***
Right after my head she laid, I supplied the Preparation H
Then carried her gently to the chopping block
Tim Knight Dec 2012
A well cured woman with
tied back hair and
a Mac for fashion,
with also a mac for all weather action,
sat across from me on the train.

Probably sexually active and
without a doubt physically attractive,
she wore morals not money.
PETA badges peppered her lapel,
as she toyed with the check-in details
for the Four Seasons Hotel.
Never will I forget her scent;
high class, high art, high culture,
all distilled within a single
sculpture of smell.
My word, how she spoke so softly,
on the phone or too herself,
even when she asked me for help.

Definitions aren't embodied
in a person that often.
Maybe ex-girlfriends define hell,
but sitting-on-a-train-Mac-user
personified beauty, love,
and the everlasting man seducer.
From www.coffeeshoppoems.com/
Auroleus Aug 2012
Jesus Christ, 15 AD

Today was a good day. I sneaked away to the cave and lit a bush on fire so I could communicate with my father. I’m not sure why I even bother telling Him things because He already knows them… I guess I just like hearing his voice. Today I asked Him if it would be alright for me to start practicing my miracles… AND HE SAID YES!!! XD He says I need a lot of practice before I go taking it public because nobody would believe I’m the son of God if I ******* one up. Also, I’m pretty sure he wants to preserve his reputation… so I started practicing on sheep. It’s a good thing shepherds are already so far away from towns because if people witnessed what I was doing to these sheep PETA would be at my doorstep in a matter of days. For those of you who don’t know, PETA is an organization created by Satan for animals because he thinks it hilarious that they should have a place in heaven, too. HA HA SATAN, very funny…

So my first miracles were simple. I was to heal all of the injured sheep in my flock. This went over fairly well, until I came to the blind sheep. I tried healing her and her eyeballs melted right out her skull! REVERSE MIRACLE! REVERSE MIRACLE! I shouted as I waved my staff in a panic. Then in the background a bush lit ablaze, “Son, you know waving that staff around won’t cause anything to happen. Magic wands and staffs are pagan nonsense. Since your birth I’ve disabled all of their so-called magical instruments, so now they’re nothing but a bunch of ritualistic heathens.” Anyway, Father fixed the poor sheep’s eyes and I was scolded for harming the animal. He sometimes makes me flog myself…

Lunch: Stale bread and glass of water.

After lunch is training time. My father had me build a crucifix inside a cave hidden deep in the desert hills so that I can practice for the big day! I spend 2 hours a day roped to that cross, and another hour or so doing self-mutilation. More flogging. I keep asking Father if he’ll send me down a practice angel so that I don’t have to keep beating myself, but he said all the angels who were into that sort of thing migrated south… So here I am… alone… in a cave… fists full of blood and rope burned wrists. Heading home to watch my parents argue and maybe I’ll turn their water into laudanum so that I may have a decent night’s sleep.
might not be a poem... **** it.
Maggie Emmett Jan 2016
I’m just a lanky lass from Wycheproof
Born on the right side of the tracks
Law degree and a stint at Racing Vic
I’ve risen well above the backroom hacks

I’m revered
and I’m feared
I’m Tony’s confidante
I scream, I shout, I rant
Back benchers quake
Ministers shake
I’m an armoured tank
You know I outrank
any one in Coo-ee
of super-strong me

Chief of Staff to the PM
I’m the ultimate femme
Murdoch grumbled, tried to call me to heel
I’m never humbled, I’m totally real
I am the ‘she’ who must be obeyed
I am the piper who must be paid
I’m the gate-keeper
I’m the scythe-reaper

Tony knows who makes and butters his bread
I keep him happy, I keep him well fed
I am Salome, when I call for a head
a platter it’s given, my enemy dead.

I was top of my game and top of the list
of Helen McCabe’s ‘Women of Power’
I’ve never cowered, brown-nosed or ****-kissed
I stand tall, over midgets I tower
Natural-born killer exudes from my pores
I suffer no fools, I banish the bores
I mark my territory, a ******* dog
Clear dry is my vision, no room for fog
Some say I influence all decisions
I’m an enforcer of rigid divisions
There is only ‘us’ in the battle of wills
Ride on my side, for the endless high thrills
Of course I agree I’ve had an impact
It’s true without me, poor Tony can’t act
But sad to tell you, it’s still more than that
I’m in charge of the ball and even the bat
I know there are some who cannot like me
Though I control the national psyche
So come Malcolm, Julie and sad sack Joe
I will decide when it’s my time to go
No-one can challenge Abbot, my hero
I’ll zap them to ashes, to dust, to zero
I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow their House down
Forever secure and wearing my crown
So don’t mess with me, you miserable crew
Just you crawl away in case I say, “Boo!”
I’m beautiful fearless, utterly bold
Remember, I serve revenge icy cold.

© M.L.Emmett
This is political satire. Peta Credlin was the Chief of Staff of Tony Abbott, Australia's most recently deposed (2015) Prime Minister. In 2015 she headed the Australian Women's Weekly (published monthly) 50 Women of Power. She stated in the presentation that she had got the government into power - such is her hubris!
Apologies to Jane Russell re- opening lines which mimic her song in 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes'.
Soma Mukherjee Jul 2011
When asked about the recent death of a poor farmer, the minister frowned
He had just returned from a trip abroad and he didn’t like this sound

“I think it is politically motivated”, said the minister
“I smell conspiracy, this looks suspiciously sinister

Our state has been suffering from drought and I wanted to bring in some cheer
That’s the reason I went abroad to find out about some good kind of beer.”

The journalist was confused and asked how could alcohol help in drought, in its absence no one ever died
“That’s what you think”, said the minister, “no one has died so far because it has been cheap, and well supplied,

And moreover, his reason of death is still unknown
Let the autopsy report come then we will discuss”, minister added with a groan

“Sir he died of hunger”, said someone in the room
“What! How dare he, wasn’t he a farmer?” said the minister bursting with fume

“But sir”, said a journalist, “he didn’t have anything to eat,
And he also had a big family to feed,

When he could not control hunger any more he drank a lot alcohol and ate some wild grass
He fell sick but could not be taken to the hospital in time due to VIP movement and road blockage on the orders of top brass”

The surprised minister replied, “See I told you alcohol is cheaper than medicine and food but why would someone eat grass with alcohol, how silly is that
And he was not only a bad farmer but it was animal food he was eating, he was nothing but a rat

And if you had a choice tell me whom would you save
A VIP who was going to inaugurate a shop or a farmer so eager to dig his own grave”

How profound said someone sarcastically
“What do you mean by found I was never lost”, said the minister quite dramatically

Someone-“No sir I said profound”
Minister-“That’s what I am asking I was never lost to be found”

“No sir” said the minister’s aide, “if you consult thesaurus…”
“Why should I”, interrupted minister, “I don’t know anyone named thesaurus”

Minister’s aide-“No sir according to thesaurus …”
Minister- “I don’t care what Mr Thesaurus says”
Minister’s aide asked everyone to take a break and took him to a room and said, “Sir, Thesaurus is a dictionary”

Minister-“Oh so now they operate under this name and playing their ***** games”
Minister’s Aide- “Who sir, who plays ***** games?”
Minister- “The dictionaries working with these poor people and helping them some education, health and god knows what”

Minister’s aide- “Sir they are not dictionaries they are missionaries”
Minister- “Its same, missionaries are dictionaries headed by thesaurus to sabotage out government,
Soon I will set up a committee to investigate their work and movement,

But before all this, that dead farmer will be punished for stealing animal food; call PETA, it’s a case of animal cruelty,
And for that his family will have to pay a heavy penalty.”

Minister’s Aide- “But sir they don’t have anything they really are poor”
Minister- “Why what about the land they have, seize it and teach lesson to others that’s the only cure”

Minister’s aide- “ Sir we can’t call the PETA members, the black bucks you killed last month has already caused lot of uproar”
Minister- “what! You mean to say that a prominent member of society like me can’t even hunt for some deer’s and tigers, what’s next, wild boars?”

Minister’s Aide-“Please sir it will only bring in bad press, What if we provide them some seed and money to start farming?
Minister-“Well that can be arranged but the way these poor farmers are dying is quite alarming,
First I need to find someone who can be blamed for this death,
You are right Elections are near I can’t afford to lose the people’s faith.”

Ministers aide- “Sir let us leave the family and blame the one who is gone”
“You mean the dead farmer, asked the Minister, “explain how that will be done.”

Minister’s aide- Sir let’s put the entire blame on him that he didn’t wait for monsoon and left his family in dire state
And to top it up he tried to bring bad name to the party even after his death

We provided seed and power at a very minimal cost
That he could not get it timely was not our fault”

The whole controversy died and the minister was applauded when he compensated the farmer’s family with money, land and seeds
And in return the farmer’s family took back the case supported ministers claim that the culprit was farmer and his greed.
The farmers' plight and  politicians, bureaucrats and their apathy towards their problems. A story where the prose and poetry mingle.
Andrew Parker Mar 2014
You are not cute Poem
3/5/2014

“You are cute.”

No.
Cute is a creature,
A little woodland chipmunk,
And I have news for you.
I don’t eat acorns or live my life in that wrong tree you’re barking up.
I’m not the poster child of a PETA campaign.

No.
Cute is a bow on a neatly packaged gift.
One with some fancy pattern.
And I have news for you.
There is nothing neat about this package, nor is it seasonal,
It won’t arrive on your doorstep for a special occasion.
I’m packaged with so many deep layers you couldn’t have it open in time for next year’s Christmas.

No.
Cute is young and unprofessional.
A little child playing with toys.
And I have news for you.
I’m not your toy.
You can’t pick me up to play, at your convenience, to then drop me on the floor forgotten.
And I’m a grown *** man – nothing cute about hangovers, hair loss, bills to pay, and unwashed laundry.

No.
Cute is not what we should aim for.
Cute is a one-liner and I am a Master’s Thesis.
Cute is what you’ll say before you cruise me online, ***** me, and then you’ll try to use me.
I’ll tell you what is cute though – you feeding me such a shallow compliment,
When really you should be treating me to the five-course conversation.
Ask me about my credentials darling,
Bachelors Degree with double majors,
working on law school and a PhD.

And finally, No.
I’m not ‘****,’ ‘***,’ ‘*****,’ ‘tool,’ ‘trick,’ or ‘****,’ either…
That’s only on Tuesdays.
Kurtis Emken Oct 2012
(Preta प्रेत (Sanskrit) or Peta (Pāli) is the name for a type of (arguably supernatural) being described in Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, and Jain texts that undergoes more than human suffering, particularly an extreme degree of hunger and thirst. They are often translated into English as “hungry ghosts”, from the Chinese, which in turn is derived from later Indian sources generally followed in Mahayana Buddhism.)

The series of blurs that was summer 2006 makes me wonder what kind of evils we committed in past lives.  What otherworldly desires plagued us with this need to feed upon the surging tidal wave of young blood?  The days from May 16th to August 23rd were black mirror images, indiscernible. I kept the 1997 Honda Accord running, tapping my fingers to the beats of Built to Spill on the dashboard, waiting for you outside your father’s newly constructed home on ice. You would bleed forth, blue sun light reflecting off windows to face like an eight point filter. What we did with the day mattered not.  It was as important to us as the script of action flicks.  We were the only people that we wanted to know and we were the places that we wanted to go.  The day lived and died, as the nighttime was when our karma sprung curse would take us.  Turn off blurred screens, ignore details of the war, pull the hatch shaded curtains tight. We shared a bed in which we did not sleep, bodies silent, blaring alarms.  The same hungry ghosts feeding and choking on ash all night.  We burned out, successful slow turns into frail husks. It was then that we couldn’t get full anymore, we realized that we fit like clothes made out of wasps.  It hasn’t gotten better for either, a ghoul roaming in the night, hunting for the next lay like a record skipping.  We will asphyxiate on stones or have our throats burned by water.  Hopefully we’ve suffered enough to respawn into more advanced forms.  I hope I see you in the next life as anything else.
Lloyd Evans Nov 2015
Super Sound Waves


They ask what can Lloyd do
What can Lloyd what can Lloyd do
I'm tell I'm tell I tell you
I'mma tell you imma tell you
This is the truth this is the truth

So y'all try shove out
Disregard me
You can't unarm me
You and what army
Can't handle ,y tsunami
My tsunami

These are my waves my super sound wave
My super sound waves my super sound waves
My super sound wave
Sound wave

They ask what can Lloyd do
What can Lloyd what can Lloyd do
I'm tell I'm tell I tell you
I'mma tell you imma tell you
This is the truth this is the truth

Don't count me out
Miscounted
forgot about him but

These are my waves my super sound wave
My super sound waves my super sound waves
My super sound wave
Sound wave

Don't wave at me ,we ain't even on the same boat
How you waste money on clothes , when barely stay afloat
I'll pepper your boy and leave him in the ocean covered in salt
You say you're broke , I'm glad that's your fault
Have had enough these questions , and people laughing at me
Well it's time a lesson , please wait and sea
Once I  have the buzz , all the honeys will claim to be
In deep everlasting love , but they catch  the L and I say k g
I have my heart on my sleeve , with the soul on my feet
So by cutting of my legs  is the only time I'll see defeat
The only time I'll see my feat
I'll **** your dawg , then support PETA , have you ***** on a leash
They didn't think I go ignorant , well are your surprised
They had Unresonable doubt , and blueprinted my demise
If the demons are all around , my angels are in the sky
Armed like Dante with just sound , the Devils may cry
Tears of happiness as they know  I can't be stopped
Khaled has they key but I'll brake these locks
They don't support the weird ones , they heard my knock
They just shunned me as the alien , so I'm attacking the block
Waves are  just into tsunami tides , embracing your ears
Waiting for big men run and hide , as I'm the one they should fear
You don't sound like you're British , Martain are weird
If you won't let me drive , I destroy your roads , I can steer
I make a path for all the weird ones like me
Who grew up on Kanye ,  Rocky & Cudi
Not Skepta or Stormzy
That's wasn't a diss , both super talented but not for me
I could never at 140 to the beat
If there's a issue with that , roll thafe and war me
They encourage me to positive , well tell me how
Every time speak the truth they want to **** the cow
They want to go to jeweller with 25 down , i go with 2500 wow
Harvesting through my line hidden means hard to plough
I take care of the lyrics like how you'll water a crop
Your bars are as careless as nines djs mixtape drops
I'll name drop who I ******* want , until my hip don't hop
No I don't think I'm rapper, I actually care about sonics  
I control sound waves,  all these mcs think I've lost it
Maybe I have , **** can you find my mind
Ever since I've lost it I've found what's inside so



They ask what can Lloyd do
What can Lloyd what can Lloyd do
I'm tell I'm tell I tell you
I'mma tell you imma tell you
This is the truth this is the truth


These are my waves my super sound wave
My super sound waves my super sound waves
My super sound wave
Sound wave
Brandon Jun 2011
**** the Religious Right
        **** Those That Condemn Others
                **** The Republicans
                        **** The Democrats
                                **** The Government Having Too Much Say In Our Lives
                                  **** Paying Taxes
                                    **** The Gas Company
                                             **** The Water Company
                                                     **** The Electric Company
                                                         ­     **** Cars
                                                            ­          **** Car Payments
                                                        ­                      **** Being Late On Payments
                                                        ­                              **** Bills All Together
                                                        ­                                      **** Not Getting Benefits For Being Early On Payments
                                                        ­                                              **** My Need To Capitalize Every Word
                                                            ­                                                  **** PETA
                                                            ­                                                          **** People That Mistreat Animals
                                                         ­                                                                 ­    **** Vegetarians
                                                     ­                                                                **** Carnivores
                                                      ­                                                        **** Omnivores, What You Can't Choose A Side?!?!?
                                                       ­                                             **** Going To College Just To Work At McDonalds
                                                       ­                                     **** White Collar Getting Paid More Than Blue Collar
                                                          ­                          **** Having A Collar
                                                          ­                  **** The People That Reproduce Too **** Much
                                                            ­         **** Those That Think There's No Future In Children
                                                        ­      **** Commercialism
                                                  ­     **** Never Running Out Of Things To ****
                                               **** People That Say They Have No Friends But They're Always Too Busy To Do Anything Cuz They're Already Hanging Out With Someone Else
                                       **** Anyone Who Likes This Poem
                               **** Anyone Who Doesn’t Like This Poem
                      **** 6,000 Channels On TV And Nothing Is Ever On
              **** The Summer Sun
      **** Global Warming
**** Flat Pop
        **** Hot Coffee That Gets Cold
                **** Pets Dying
                         **** Death
                                 **** Wasting Life
                                         **** People That Talk To Much
                                                 **** People That Cuss
                                                          Fu­ck People That Have A Problem With Cussing
                                                         ­          **** Fox News
                                                            ­               **** Anyone That Lives Their Life Strictly By A Book (especially you Harold And The Purple Crayon people out there)
                                                          ­                          **** Laugh Tracks Telling Me When To Laugh
                                                           ­                                 **** Everything That You Stand For
                                                             ­                                       **** Everything That You Are
                                                             ­                                                **** Everything That You're Not
                                                             ­                                                         **** Finishing This Poem, I'm Gonna Go Eat
                               **** Anything That I Forgot To **** In This POEM
i really have no idea why this appears to be my most popular poem.`
T'was a night before Christmas, Not the one that we know
When the big guy came forth,From the land full of snow,
He'd been summoned down south, to a lawyers..no less
There were some concerns that he had to address.
First was the doll that was known just as Dinah,
It was looked at because it was all made in China
The paint would flake off, so it stayed on the shelves
It was obvious that it was not made by elves.
There were problems as well with the way that it looked,
From the make-up she wore, you would think that she hooked
The lawyers all said she should look more demure
And the manufacturers need to lose the fake fur.
To show off its privates, there wasn't the need
So it came off the shelves, and it was done with real speed.
The next toy examined was a gun that shot caps
But the chinese translation said it was used to shoot cats
PETA had phoned and was all up in arms
That Santa believed in "The right to bear arms"
"Santa", they said "you can't sell guns as toys"
"They're dangerous for all the girls and the boys"
But Santa just sat and he had nothing to say
Their arguements meant things would not go his way.
So he sat and he watched as each toy was brought out
Though deep down inside, he just wanted to shout
"What happened to Christmas, it's supposed to be fun"
"Where is the harm in a little toy gun?"
"Expenses kept rising and the costs all went nuts"
"I had to lay off the elves as one of the cuts"
"I outsourced to China, Taiwan and B.C."
"How would I know this would happen to me"
"Wal-mart's successful with importing from there"
"In fact, they all do it with nary a care"
"I can hire some back as consultants as such"
"But, with the cost of production, I can't pay them too much"
"You all once were children and you broke what I gave"
"Now production from China is the new fad and rave"
"The toys were more dangerous in years all gone by"
"There were parts you could swallow and choke on and die"
"The paint was lead based like the stuff you all fear"
"You all ate it as children and yet your're still here"
"Now come and tell Santa what this is really about"
"I've got contacts upstairs, you know Santa has clout"
"Did I miss you one chistmas, getting you G.I Joe?"
"I'm really confused and I really must know"
"There's no time to dawdle because Christmas comes soon"
"I now have to leave early so I get home by noon"
"I'm down to four reindeer from my original eight"
"And with half my contingent, I'm usually late"
"Now please tell me all, what it is that I missed"
"We just needed to see you to know you exist"
"As lawyers our spirit is little to none"
"And the whole Christmas season si no longer fun"
"They've banned the word Christmas in court and in Schools"
"In fact we all feel that we all look like fools"
"We used this sad tactic to get you down here"
"So you can do something great to bring back our cheer"
"Christmas once was a time for belonging"
"When carolers sang and went out all ding donging"
"It's now just a season for retail and sales"
"Where people just eat and they look like beached whales"
So Santa sat back and he thought  what to do
How could I make Christmas Special, can I make it brand new"
He then said "I've got it, I'll bring back the elves"
"I'll make stuff on consignment and I'll fill the shelves"
"I'll go out on tour signing books to mend fences
"All the money I make will help drop my expenses
"The toys will stay dangerous, that never will change"
"But, I'll make less noisy guns and I;ll reduce their range"
"I'll advertise Christmas....yes that's what I'll do"
"I'll do it up as a sequel....Call it Christmas Part Two"
And he rose from his chair and he said with a grin
"I'm off now to China to fire ten guys named Chin"
And those lawyers all heard as he flew away East,
"Who'd have thought three small presents would create such a beast?"
Lauren Nov 2012
You are not the ocean because I do not know that well,
you are not a meadow nor a stroll around the park.
None of these things mean much to me, although
they're beautiful in and of themselves.
You are the scent of incense that used to attack my nose,
eventually I craved it, now the smoke in my room grows.
You are laying on my back in the middle of the road
a kickball flying over me, no worries in the world.
You are a caterpillar making it's way across the street,
climbing onto my open palm so that we may personally meet.
Suction cup feet, pipe in it's mouth a formal way of greeting me.
You tickle my taste buds like peta chips,
you're like sleeping through Christmas morning
(something I could never miss
on purpose,
but if I'm tired enough, I might accidentally oversleep.)
You are grass with ants on each blade
but I lay in you anyway
roll around
breathe
it in
laugh, think,
when did this begin?
When I stopped appreciating little things.
The freezing water of a pool in the shade,
baked beans and a fire place.
New York City vendors
selling handicrafts.
My town written down
tucked away with other maps.
You are
an apple all sliced up without the skin,
you are the worm inside it, too.
Where did this begin?
You are a tree,
now trace my roots,
later trace my skin.
But only when I've figured out
what's missing from within.
Del Maximo Jan 2010
a rodent's demise
didn't see him 'till the end
only his droppings
nasty little black feces
hiding out in my office

the glue traps were set
and baited with green pellets
a matter of time
a nocturnal S.O.B.
no one heard his night time screams

I have no regrets
and PETA would not be proud
but it's not my fault
oh the germs...the germs, germs, germs
just can't deal with mouse ****
I'm raw my flow  consumes dextrose
Tell peta  I do the most
Loud sounds I'm out in the public
Friends with  Lions we close like cousins
I'm cooking ..in a gourmet kitchen
Chicken is my opposition
Sweet and sour
Predator I'm not a scavenger no coward
Blood falls I need a shower
Drip drop dew mornings
Don't sleep on me like comas
Consuming beats down to the bone
I sip the marrow for a bonus

I am clean like an infants first wash no rap sheet
Walking thru the market
Like shouldn't food be free
Didn't God give us the same control he gave Adam and eve
I am sorry my mind at times goes on a spree
A spree of thoughts
My brain is heavy plus it kicks bass drum
My thoughts run miles
I need pennies for my thoughts
Must be properly endowed

Watch what you eat fool check your food
Fool check your spoon
Food poison
Nasty now you vomiting fluids flowing a fountain
To that server you should have watched how you spoke
Face timing yourself
Seeing your mouth move
Saliva crashing into the coast of your tooth
Yuck images social products
Dislike that dislike you
Keep it true
Tom sawyer and Huck
Instafriends
On instagram
Madoff money instascam


The Poets Lounge go to www.youhavetolisten.com
Every Tuesday 6pm-8pm
Jeffrey Bustos May 2013
so i blew up my air conditioner
and my mom wants to **** me
obviously not on purpose
well the blowing up part
my mom definitely wants to **** me
on purpose
like i wanted to **** the frog
when i shot my gun
that accidentally missed
by about four yards
and shot my air conditioner
yes, call PETA
I have an animal abuse case to report
the perk was the frog
victim: my dog
who was poisoned
attempted ******
by the frog
who i tried to ****
on purpose
as self defense
Mike Hauser Nov 15
I just received a letter from PETA
And boy are they ever MAD
Seems the Chicken, I was finger lickin'
Turned out instead, to be a Rat

Must have called the 1-800 number
And started singing like a Stool Pigeon
With the flapping of wings along with the beak
To any who cared to give it a listen

Which brings me back to the letter
I received of cease and desist
Not really sure, who they think they are
but me being a carnivore
Know my rights and won't put up with this

It held all the usual jargon
About Lawyers, Lawsuits, and such
I have no idea what all the fuss is
In having a Chicken over for lunch

So let me tell you people from PETA
Don't get your knickers all up in a twist
If you've never tried, a thing deep Southern fried
Then you don't know, what life truly is
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
When I say,
Eeny, Meanie, Miney, Moe,
You know what follows,
Today's children don't know.
Should we be shamed,
Though blameless,
Called racist and supremacist.
I learned those words long after the rhyme,
Losing innocence with time.
Can I still call you Whitey
If my skin is...
Well, different from Whitey's.
I'd be stupid
To catch a tiger
By the toe;
PETA would skin me.
Ekaterina Oct 2015
Being born out of an oil spill
With gasoline swimming in the veins and capillaries
Cells spilling energy
Weeping for the blood of aged ideals
Shoved down the throat
Choking on dissonance and disenchantment

Ideals as clean cut as yours
Are easy to get lost in
Forgetting that your vision
Is fueled by the ants who
Breathe in sulfur and expel energy
For those who do not give them a time of day
And worse so, for those who discredit their life forces
And families who have known nothing
But the trade

If it’s all a dream
Then you have one leg in the door already
Honeysuckle filling the senses
Grass beneath bare feet
Branches wrapping themselves around your body
Like a safe house
Like a security blanket
Comforted by your origins
Remain within simplicity

But you’ll never get to know
The music of the taxis
Playing all the night and day
Signaling that movement is happening
Every day
Every night
Every hour
Every minute
Every second
Every time you bat your lids
For every face you see once in your life
And every train that you happen to miss by a single millisecond

You’ll never comprehend the joy
Upon a child’s face when they see that gray pigeon
Scavenging for crumbs
Padding small feet towards small feet
Knowing that they are equal only in that moment
And the curve of the lines on the man’s face
As he screams into his cell phone
And abruptly brushes past your shoulder
Running down to the corner of William and Cedar
And you losing his face in the crowd
Embracing a part of his anger, a part of his life
Only then and forever

You’ll never understand the value
Of a paved road
Of a rooftop sunset
Of a stranger’s compliment
Of the myriad of blinking lights
Filling the night like the stars you constantly harp on about
Each and every light a life

These are our stars

And if you look closely, you can still see the originators
Framing the sky with dim rays
Serving as both a reminder and a work ethic

There is a price to pay for progress
But without risk
Without passion
We have nothing
And it may be easy
To turn up your nose on those who choose to live amongst
Concrete and haze
Like a PETA member chooses an animal
Over the dignity of a woman
But I assure you that
One day you will forget the value of the clock
But the greatest gift the city has given is
Not a gift
But a reminder
We are all cells on a timeline

As much as we should work hand in hand
To sustain our dreams
Your spitefulness is misdirected and blinded
Choosing the scapegoat of the cover
Over the contents of the book

And as someone born from the oil spill
I find that offensive.
(2013-2014) Collection
Yo deseo estar solo. Non curo de compaña.
Quiero catar silencio. Non me peta mormurio
ninguno a la mi vera. Si la voz soterraña
de la canción adviene, que advenga con sordina:
si es la canción ruidosa, con mi mudez la injurio;
si trae mucha música, que en el Hades se taña
o en cualquiera región al ***** Hades vecina...
Ruido: ¡Callad! Pregón de aciago augurio!
Yo deseo estar solo. Non curo de compaña.
Quiero catar silencio, mi sóla golosina.

Como yo soy el Solitario,
como yo soy el Taciturno,
dejadme solo.

Como yo soy el Hosco, el Arbitrario,
como soy el Lucífugo, el Nocturno,
dejadme solo.

Mi sandalia (o mi abarca o mi coturno)
no los piséis, tumulto tumultuario,
dejadme solo.

Judeo, quechua, orangutánida, ario,
-como soy de la estirpe de Saturno-
dejadme solo.

Decanto en mi rincón mínimo canto,
silencioso; alquimista soy señero,
juglar oculto, absconto fabulante.
Dejadme solo.

Buen catador (soto mísero manto)
Buen tañedor (sin Amati o Guarniero)
Alto cantor (aunque bajo cantante)
Dejadme solo.

Dejadme solo. Non quiero compaña.
Dejadme esquivo. Non gusto coreo.
Non paventad: non presumo de Orfeo
desasnador de cerril alimaña.

Dejadme solo soplando mi caña
silvestre. Non pétame pueril ronroneo.
Non son adamado. Non son sigisbeo.
Son áspero, másculo. Son rudo, sin plaña.

Sin queja. Más mudo que Beethoven sordo.
Sin laude. Más zurdo que Cervantes manco.
Sin pathos. Más seco que no Falstaff gordo.
Solitario. Adusto. Voy único a bordo.
Espíritu en *****. Corazón en blanco.

Y esquivo dejadme. Soy notas-arranco
de mi clavecino. Soy fábulas-bordo
sobre el cañamazo de mi pentacordo.
Soy facecias-urdo. Por dentro me estanco.
Dejadme señero: jamás me desbordo.

Como yo soy el Solitario,
como yo soy el Taciturno,
como yo soy el Hosco, el Arbitrario,
como soy el Lucífugo, el Nocturno,
dejadme solo.

Como soy Leo Atrabiliario,
como soy Sergio el Estepario,
como soy Proclo Extravagario,
como ya tengo el Cuervo y el Vulturno
de los acerbos choznos de Saturno,
dejadme solo.

Dejadme solo. Non quiero compaña.
Dejadme esquivo. Non gusto coreo.
Non paventad. Non presumo de Orfeo
desasnador de cerril alimaña.

No viene a mí, ni voy a la montaña.
Ni vasallo ni César, Juez ni Reo:
Sergio Estepario, Estrafalario Leo.
Con mi tonel. De mi cruz cirineo.
Rey de Burlas, soberbio: cetro o caña
pares le son a mi elación huraña.
Dejadme solo.
White Lily Jul 2019
Pelita dalam kegelapan
Peta dalam perjalanan
Petunjuk dalam kesesatan
Pedoman dalam kehidupan
Abah,
Engkau segalanya
Waiting for an audience , practicing every move , critique every nuance , critical eye contact with animal counterparts . Your display of affection is most disheartening , the only reason for you presence ? So politically correct friends can feast their eyes upon a " shelter dog " . A rite of passage like your tie dyed t-shirt , sandals and voter registration ! Claim to be  a PETA activist but your only a charade , a most dangerous psychopath walking from cage to cage ! Who stands before me ? You appear delusional as well ! In two days I'll be sentenced to the backyard , shackled to a tree ! Living off of rainwater and sporadic feedings ! Crying for release , tortured with fleas .. I have found the one ! Any guess on how I can tell ? You've the unmistakable look of loneliness coupled with the scent of depression .. An aroma within your gradient most vivid and easily detected ! The same odor within my cage , surrounding this wounded animal ! You and I will remain side by side , play off each others affections , render great joy to one another and form a bond that will last forever !
Copyright October 17 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Zack Ripley Dec 2019
This is the story of a tipped tree,
Some fish,
And two men who hit the streets.
They wanted to spread the word
About how to keep pets safe.
To speak up for those who could
Not be heard.
They'd knock on the door,
Say "hi! We're from PETA!
And just like that, they weren't
Invited to say anymore.
This happened again and again and again.
Finally, they agreed "one more. Then that will be the end."
They knocked on the door.
But this time, no one answered.
They knocked again, no answer.
They went to the window
And what did they see?
Baby goldfish in clear ***** of water
Hanging off the tree.
They looked at each other,  and both said "we need to act quick."
Luckily, the door was unlocked.
No lock to pick.
Handling them with care,
They got the fish to safety and got
Out of there. But before they left,
They kicked the tree down in anger.
And that's the story of how the tree was knocked over not by a cat,
But a stranger.
This was inspired by a prompt to write a poem about why the tree was knocked over.
Lo que sopló el tifón contra la roca,
lo que aventó el simún contra la duna,
lo que el viento esparció por la ensenada,
        no penetró en la bicoca.

Ni el odio soterraño. Ni la envidia bajuna,
ni la ambición acezante, de embaïdor atuendo,
ni el logrero además, al sesgo, sinuöso,
        penetró en la bicoca.

Ni la saña virulenta (no la iracundia hiendo,
no transito la insidia: vuelo ingrávido);
ni pueril amargura (nútrome de inasibles)
        penetró en la bicoca.

Lo que vozna o que grazna, rahez, ávido;
lo que repta, serpea, húmido, yerto;
lo que exhibe su pus o su laceria,
        no penetró en la bicoca.

Prometeo y su buitre, ni Jesús en el huerto,
(Job non me peta: ¡oh gafo Jeremías!)
ni la nenia (el dolor me topó estoico)
        penetró en la bicoca.

Platino de las noches, similor de los días;
cobre de los crepúsculos; la hecha cuotidiana;
la gris tragedia fonje que desuela o inunda,
        no penetró en la bicoca.

Ni, plácido, el frescor lustral de la mañana
al espíritu libre del inútil pequeño
mester, y ni la tarde sin menester minúsculo,
        penetró en la bicoca.

Ni la noche del fértil sueño; ni el tras-sueño
-hórrido amanecer para absurdos oficios-
de la aventura lauta sin la próxima angustia,
        penetró en la bicoca.

Libertad ni Ocio próvido ni Holganza… (ásperas sicios
sin Moisés aqüifice cuando la roca toca…)
(¿tú quoque jeremítico?) La palinodia imbele
        no penetro en la bicoca.

Lo que sopló el tifón contra la roca,
lo que aventó el simún contra la duna,
lo que el viento esparció por la ensenada,
        no penetró en la bicoca.
Venido a menos víking, de poeta
(¡y en el Trópico!) estoy. Cuando cavilo:
¿será mi estilo, (por llamarle estilo)
-de ése mi estilo (estilo a la jineta)
yo mismo en veces (pocas) me horripilo-,
barroco estilo, ni motor de escándalos, 1
por descender (si criollo hasta la zeta)
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De Iberos, (no español de pandereta),
de Renanos (si no bajo del tilo
romanticoide y menos soto el filo 2
guadañador: el Führer non me peta),
de Godos (pero zurdo: y nunca enfilo),
de Vándalos (¿por miedo al diablo mándalos
el Vulgo?) vengo (y vándalo un asceta?):
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.

De inconexo y sin orden, soy veleta.
(Llévame el viento -como brizna- en vilo).
Ácrata soy, de buen humor tranquilo.
Jamás sóbrame duro ni peseta.
La Noche es techo de mi sólo asilo.
Grandes recorta, mínimos agrándalos,
fechos, mi móvil Yo: ¿síntesis? ¿meta?
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.

De Enano hace Gigante, y -David- reta
verdadero Goliat, que vé pupilo
mi fantasía, y aunque corte un hilo
su mandoble: y sin honda, ardid ni treta...
Y, ante casos minúsculos, vacilo:
(casos que un soplo blándulo desbándalos...)
Tan vario humor, ¿es zumo que secreta
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De loco no aprovecho, y la chaveta
perdí hace siglos, -y, si despabilo, 3
cuerdo ya soy: de la cordura silo!:
más cuerdo que el mejor anacoreta.
¿Cuerdo? ¡Qué vá! Con menos me obnubilo;
a Juicio y a Folía, Humor comándalos:
¿heredé Humor, Esplín -y la Pirueta-,
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De ambas soy cojo, y ando sin muleta.
Sordo, y oigo el silencio. Y en sigilo
-ciego- oteante el ***** mar vigilo
de la cofa. Sin Fe, ni Amor, ni lieta
Bienandanza, Ambición, ni Afán, destilo
miel -si hiérenme- a ejemplo de los sándalos
(y acíbar además...) ¿Suma -incompleta-
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?
Príncipe: ¿quién mis trucos interpreta?
¿quién cargará con la que en torre apilo
-¿de Babel?- ¿tonterías? ¿Quién no veta
balumba tal -inundación del Nilo?-
Malos caminos, muy más rápidos ándalos:
es decir, rasga ya la Baladeta 4
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.
Sorry for the delay. I was busy.
I'm still alone. U?

**********

zealotry yawping within un
pretentious sporty, quirky,
oddly, manly, kooky, impisly, gummy,
edgy, dorky, cocky, belly airs

to disseminate, a quick
literary flourishing brushstroke
no on nest to dog lie 'n, tie gears
(tigers) boot this chap bears,

who copped, dropped,
plopped out of college devoid of any careers,
and wandered the globe after
searching classifieds for reign leaderless deers,

this buck rogers wannabe could be doe ting,
and assist sleigh get off the ground
on account of his Dumbo ears,
despite abomination, hesitation, and trepidation

to push comfort zone and exposure therapy skyward
in order to over nervousness about being in high places
plus countless other fears,
and an extreme intervention measure considered,

would be brain transplanat with that of another,
whose mental cogs and gears
and a canine like audibility acute as a hares
means to sprint at light speed if senses

being caught in the cross hairs of a gun barrel,
whose fate doomed demise almost insnares,
yet PETA type person would loathe any jeers
if any animal alluded to characterized

heading toward harm
and in reality, this heir,
who favors knitwears
with pink frilly (“I HATE BOYS”) *******,
would put his measly life on the line,

cuz aye believe every creature own right to live,
whether they dwell in **** trees or underground lairs,
oh..., or kept in stable condition
of ca horse hi mean mares,

a barn strewn with hay during the day
to fend off pitch black ominous sounds
Equus ferus caballus (Hardy
as a mountain Laurel),

but quite susceptible to nightmares
thus some veteranarians strongly suggest
cloth eye elastic lined ocular shades,
but please make sure Mister Ed,
or his ilk doth newt overhears.
------------------------------------
addy ewe - matthew scott harris
Willoughby Sep 2018
Not figuratively, but literally.  It's called zoo. Inter species

coupling.  My wife is a sheep.     But let me tell you how it all

began...

    When I was ten, I knew I was attracted to animals when I put

lipstick on a pig and we made out behind the barn.   Later that

year my uncle started hiding his dog Sadie whenever I came by

because I had to go to the hospital when I put peanut butter on

my ***** and instead of licking it off, Sadie bit it.

Later when I was 12 I couldn't help but admire the hind

quarters of my uncle's donkey.  Such a fine ***, I mean donkey.

Hee haw.

I still keep in touch with Sadie, if a dog can keep in touch.

Needless to say we don't play fetch the stick, too many bad

memories. You know dog spelled backwards is God? So that

helps justify my love for Sadie.

Any way, when I was 14 I got arrested for fence hopping. That's

when you sneak into someone else's property and  f*ck  their

animals.

And it was only later when as an adult, I met my wife the sheep,

who is named Angelica, because of her white angel- like wool.  I

met her on a animal *** farm up North called "Loving Nature".

It's a ranch where there is a whole sub culture going on. Like a

**** Noah's Ark.

A guy on the internet married us so it's bound to be legal.  If she

ever has baby lambs, they will end up with my Irish nose. Just

kidding, ha ha.

So that's how I came to love animals and married  my wife

Angelica, the sheep. PETA doesn't understand  me but I think the

animals like it. I never heard one say no or stop.
Randy Johnson May 2020
While I was driving a Monster Truck, I ran over Mister Ed.
I accidentally ran over that talking horse and now he's dead.
Mister Ed said "F* you" to me with his final breath.
Millions of people are upset because of his death.

That horse let out a smelly **** before he died.
When his owner saw what happened, he cried.
Wilbur Post called Peta and that got me in a lot of trouble.
I was sued and the only lawyer I could afford was Barney Rubble.

I lost the lawsuit because Barney is stupid because he's from the Stone Age.
When I couldn't pay Wilbur ten million bucks, the cops locked me in a cage.
Please listen to my advice or you may go to jail and your spouse will get a divorce.
If you ever drive a Monster Truck, you'd better not run over somebody's talking horse.
Mike Hauser Oct 2017
I about have had enough
Of this constant bashing Trump
Daily in the news
There's not a thing the man can do

He could **** out bars of gold
Cure the common cold
Put an end to the world's hunger
Keep the young from growing old

Help Nancy Pelosi cross the street
A Granny that's in need
Have Israel and Palestine
Over for tea which brings world peace

He could become vegetarian
Call Peta amongst his friends
Give Hillary another chance
And let America vote again

To tell you the truth
There's not a thing the man could do
That the left might find that he does right
Or try to misconstrue
I'm not here to argue. I honestly can't belive some of the things that comes out of this man's mouth, but he seriously can't get a break and not all of it is his fault.
Matt Dec 2019
I'm cold but in my bed
I get up even though it's hard after being limp for so long in bed
I open the blinds to let light in
white















YOU KNOW MY CHANEL NOW DONTCHA YOU LITTLE ******* I DONT GET SAD OR SENTIMENTAL ANYMORE MERRY ******* CHRISTMAS AND I SWEAR F YOU DONT HAVE A GOOD YEAR I WILL CALL PETA ON YOUR SORRY *** I DONT CARE IF ITS THE 23RD MERRY ******* CHRISTMAS *****
quaffing caustic acidic ale, a prankster did stage
analogous to raging figurative fire of rage
within my belly – riven asper spinal binding
   ripped from every book marked page

caw zing quite an ache – fiercely teas sing
   (the fire cat) curative panaceas sans
   almond sunset, chamomile, osage
tea, yukon try grabbing with all your might,

   even enlisting Strain gauge
   in tandem
   with a bunch of bootlegged banshees
   freed from their cage

as last resort drafting electric eels,
   shocking quite astute
accompanied by
   Jack and the Giant
beanstalk golems to boot

or tiger (perhaps named Tony,
   mean to the bone, but...oh so cute
who dwells in a tony neighborhood),
   swishing  tail (Nike like),

   and held up ala playing the flute
an unseen hellacious, ferocious,
   or outlandishly jowly, egregious beast,
   who expells offal asphyixiating

   from a moon unit sized Glute
yea, I could also allude
   to some Monty Python flying dragon,
   who gives nada hoot,

somehow remotely controlling to ram into ewe,
   these high speed U-Haul trucks
combine all the above scenario,
   aye know really *****
which gagging induces
   the worst instance of reflux
the sum total would,

   only feebly meet Karma
   credit rating as de luxe
   approximate the onset
   of red hot enflamed ducks
(my apologies to PETA, Paul, Luke...),

   they madly flap wings, yawping beaks,
   vis  a vis on par
   with orange iz the new black
   Wu Tang clan iz the new blacj hush
   que clucks clan –
   Whew...only then

   (after lpaying yee a million bucks
please keep on the que tee i.e. hush)
regarding this soupy poetic fabrication
   bravely bursting buttucks amucks,

thus haint wise to mess wit me
lest cha wanna split high knee
a fate worse than death
   with hen whoops ipsy
daisy excuse em moi
   faux zee pas impairment via this Gypsy.
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)

***,... and he looks...
     SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
     absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
     respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
     loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today

mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
     blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
     despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
     inhospitable...overplay

ying faux indulgent,
     NOR be mistaken
     to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
     writ his'm to
     gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
     yuge weak accusations

(by a long shot), sans
     basket of conspiring deplorables
     attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
     winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
     versus 4th grade reading level

     trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
     (as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
     as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero *****,
     which doth hapt
     tubby incredibly tremendous

     disservice to bona fide classy idiots
     with a lot of money
     (like the millions and billions
     of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
     used by crooked Hillary,
     when former Secretary of State
     ideal for Putin on the Ritz

by far less exciting, with
     Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
     sin null property
     of intern (NO FALLACY)
     topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
     pricked prurient peccadilloes licks

suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
     sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
     ingenue Monica Lewinsky
     called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping

     express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
     *** mincecd secrete mission
     blue dress draped
     expensively furred

(i.e. tricked out) in her
     "FAKE" minx hiding
     sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
     activists vehemently protested
     out-coming result
     slapping former president
     with a PETA file.
Ryan O'Leary Jul 2018
If a canine ran on to the
the pitch and bit Giorgio
or indeed Luis Suarez,
the dog would be put down.


I am an animal rights campaigner
and this now brings to light, the
discrimination between stray dogs
and football players.

PETA and FIFA should insist on
egalitarianism for man's best friend.

I demand that either Luis Suarez
is given a lethal injection, a stake
through the heart or that from now
on, all offending dogs be judged
by the same criteria as FIFA.
The Mayor of Lacoste put Aristides dog down.
The said mayor may think the matter ended there,
but no, I am writing a book about xenophobia in Lacoste.
Aristide is an itinerant Algerian has lived in barns since
1978, his dog was his friend.
This is Spinal tap
bamboozling, binding, bleeding, bombing...
ripped from every dog eared
and book marked page
recounting latest ill fated fiasco,
now peppering my life and hard times
causing quite an ache – fiercely teasing
(the fire cat) curative panaceas  
sans almond sunset, chamomile,
Osage Tea for the Tillerman.

I tell myself Yukon try
grabbing at straws
with all your might to no avail
even enlisting Strain gauge
in tandem donning
common cents equipage
with a bunch of bootlegged banshees
freed from their cage
and as last ditch resort
drafting electric eels.

Yours truly as shock absorber quite astute
accompanied by Jack and the Giant
beanstalk golems to boot
or lion eye zing tiger
(perhaps named Tony,
mean to the bone, but...oh so cute,
who dwells in a tony neighborhood),
swishing (Nike like) tail,
and held up ala playing the flute
an unseen hellacious, ferocious, atrocious

or outlandishly jowly, egregious beast,
who expelled offal asphyxiating
noxious, odious, pernicious, et cetra odor
from a moon unit sized Glute
yea, I could also allude
to some Monty Python flying dragon,
who gives nada hoot,
somehow remotely controlling
any errant cyber wayfaring day tripper
simultaneously while droning
sheepishly not to ram into ewe.

These high speed U-Haul trucks
combine all the above scenario,
to glean mental state of mine
aye know really *****,
which gagging induces
the worst instance of reflux
making little rheum for ordinarily
phlegmatic ** hum (what me worry
Alfred E. Neuman
persona non grata) guy.

Sum total of available funds
(since being defrauded to the hilt)
to qualify for credit card,
would only feebly meet Karma
credit rating as risky business
approximating the quacking
of red hot inflamed ducks
(my apologies to PETA, Paul, Luke...),
they madly flap wings, yawping beaks,
visa vis masterfully discovered on par
with orange iz the new black
evidenced courtesy Wu Tang clan  
in no way, shape, nor form
unrelated to que clucks clan.

Whew...only then
(after reviewing the situation)
panoply of mystical elements of breath aired
per millennia times two resonated
veritable pantheon of superstitions
fired imagination as catalyst
viz **** sapiens forehead
tugging simian beard,
whence bygone agents provocateurs
fueled tens of previous generations
bred Manichaeism credo,
a nebulous ethos sans early humanity
vetted dual chaired

spirit world wide web populated
with ******* Roman sol invictus
wrought fiery brimstone who dared
assert antiestablishmentarian dogma
got hounded to whit; the bowels
of hellish firmament most
and/or many feared,
they would be pitched headlong
into said purported fiendish furnace,
thus particular obeisance payed
to morays; any voracious
marine coastal eel of the family Muraenidae,
esp Muraena helena, marked
with brilliant patterns and colours.

— The End —