"porky" poems
I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt
And I don't
understand?
I DON'T UNDERSTAND.
please help me,
*"The clawed hand is not for shaking,
although it has amazing grip."* -zₑᵤₛ
*"Eat a pork shoulder
dusted in granite powder...
dash of cumen, a salty pinch
you'll get over it."* -ᴾᵉˡᵒᵖˢ
"He is a porky one isn't she?" -ᴱʳᶦˢ
Betty, uh, Ms. Page,
didn't it bother you?
"Bother me?"
Well you know,
being a person of God,
-doing those things for money?
*"Silly, I do what I do
BECAUSE I AM a believer!"* -ᴮᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴾᵃᵍᵉ
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.*
at a supermarket:
within the confines
of a cashier:
- 'is this your typical
friday night?'
say it plain, chubby...
**** it: more cushion
for the pushin'...
sunglasses at 6am?
a reply:
- 'it could be'
- 'if you were part of it'
- 'what?'
i'd love to fiddle with excesses
of porky...
migrant crisis?
more like a ***** cricis...
import black ****
given the white boy lay low...
it's not even funny,
i find it funny attempting
to whistle...
which i can't,
given that i found laughter...
just don't come between me
and mt "neighbour":
cos i'll **** the ******* ****
and "he's" watching me?
sorry:
i'll **** the ******* ****
fuck-face-tard!
no, i will;
i can't conceive retaining
the anglophone aspect of comedy
within the confines
of the monologue,
with a cabaret....
i'll **** him...
next time we exfoliates
speaking to my mother,
and not... looking
into my eyes...
"englishman": spew!
you! now! clean up this
***********
******* english!
like you bred a people,
gesticulating with
a hand gesture...
new yankies...
britain: home,
of the the wankies.
p.s.
no... private property contra
private property
within this ****** vogue...
i seriouslly will throw
a **** into his garden,
and say...
not enough fox hunting,
d'uh!
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Taffeta watches the pigs atop the tables
Glass eyes and stitches where they're enabled
Guts pumping crimson liquid
Sewing 'em up, she's addicted
Family and friends recommend she withdraw
She responded with a twinkle in her eye and a dropped jaw
Scissors and string, that's all she'll need
Besides a corpse, of course, and a bit of stuffing
Lilac eyes affixed on a tattered pillow
Enjoying watching a weeping Willow
Her poor Porky pet has met his end
But everyone knows you can depend
Before your sweet pet starts to smell
On Taffeta's Taxidermy to stuff 'em well
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
Loony Tunes
Bugs Bunny is my favorite rabbit,
watching him became my habit.
He was smart, funny and two steps ahead,
his popularity was very widespread.
His best friend was Daffy Duck,
he never did have the same luck.
Rabbit season, duck season,
rabbit season, duck season,
watching them, I needed no reason.
Speedy Gonzales was so very quick,
this fast mouse was also a *****
Owned his own pizza place,
won a gold metal, at the local rat race.
Yosemite Sam was a short tempered man,
killing Bugs and Daffy was always his plan.
He's a liar, a cheat and a sore loser,
maybe he should have been a drug user.
Tasmanian Devil was a tornado of destruction,
he never needed any kind of introduction.
Foghorn Leghorn never saw a negative situation,
I say, I say boy was his favorite quotation.
Pepe Le Pew was a French skunk,
women loved his smelly *****
Marvin The Martian was from Mars,
his laser gun would leave you with scars.
Tweety was an antagonizing canary,
lived with Granny, and flew like a crafty fairy.
Sylvester was Granny's pet cat,
him and Tweety always went *** for tat.
Road Runner was so very fast,
said beep beep as Wile E Coyote he passed.
Never fell for those Acme supplies,
getting blown up was his ultimate demise.
Porky Pig was just happy to be included,
the, the that's all folks, is how this will be concluded.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
It's like sparring with a lumberjack
a tell tale sign you're lost
A party trick , a baseball bat
and loving what you've got
a sparrow rests- an open chest
a gunshot wound for hire
tempted to forget that love
will force you through the fire
thirty nine and feeling fine
and hating what you have
kisses in the moonlight
and ignoring how it stabs
open eyes of baby blue
have been lying all this time
dreaming dreams sustained by you
it still feels like a crime.
Headlights hollow open vast
and scream a shallow tune
baby birds they fly too fast
and are taken by the moon.
Pacing blankets made of smiles
and fairies in her hair
name tags and red ceiling tiles
dying, trying not to stare.
She's beautiful as sunshine
and sweet as summer heat
and standing by the roadside
she sells her rotten meat.
There's plenty love in all the world
for sirens of her kind
and your body's steady pull of heat
tempts her to leave us all behind
we're hanging from a telephone pole
at the end of steady stream
and seeing glass is on the floor
cutting up our dreams
This plane is falling into bits
for the rich ones to enjoy
i wonder when they'll figure out
that earth is not a toy.
porky's in the dining hall
playing Rhapsody and Blue
on a washboard and a bathroom stall
I'm entering on cue.
You can scream and yell and call me names
Curse words aren't that bad
My life is one big mess of loud
you're not supposed to make me mad.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:23 AM UTC
a polish pork head terrine?
my ******* god...
how can the jews and the muslims
take to culinary criticism of
their own, respective gods?
ever watch the t.v. show
billions? where they're having
breadcrumbs fried pork
ears?
last time i heard...
the best pork is encapsulated
within the pig cranium....
all that excess cartilage?
yummy finger licking good...
seems funny though...
it's not exactly discussing bone marrow...
it's pork head...
all that excess cartilage...
and mingled with sweet & sour
gherkins...
just my idea of Anastasia...
a porky's head...
chicken hearts / chicken livers....
raw Baltic herrings?
who the, **** needs to glorify
american hamburgers...
if not some jerking-off
megalomaniac?
you eat, what is given,
you don't ask for nuances,
you don't make excuses...
you eat what is on the plate..
you **** the omnivore "gimmick"...
pork head flesh,
meat mixed with cartilage?
tasty as ****
so why would islam
or the partial strand of judaism
be so critical concerning the most
economic carnivore animal being
farmed, herded, industrialised?
the monotheistic celebration of god...
within the confines of a criticism,
so trivial would make a god laugh...
it would appear the dogma was written as a joke...
earthquake and hurricane
are o.k., but pork?
the ******* bubonic plague!
i love how "god" is celebrated,
but at the same time,
kept under a critical acclaim
of having one of his creations,
namely pork...
given a punching bag status of criticism...
since, what is so ******* pristine,
and spectacular, about chicken, lamb
or beef meat?
according to islam... mad cow disease
never happened.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
Humans still engage
in ********** play
with masks & beads?
I am so glad we have
come so far for a dollar.
That kitty litter is fresh too!
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
Am I the only one that grew up watching ****** tunes?
I loved those animals much more than the ones in the zoo
Daffy, Bugs, porky, and Elmer Fudd,
got me laughing as a kid, even when I was in a rut.
But my favorite toon, if you couldn't guess
was Wile E. Coyote, and Roadrunner, They to me were the best
Would He ever catch his prey? as a kid I only fashioned a guess
with each and every failed trap, showing the Roadrunner was blessed.
Now to use these two metaphorically
I'll be Wiley, and Roadrunner would be
amour, you see.
Now in every episode I keep trying to pin it down
but just like Wiley, I get blown up, flattened, or otherwise hurt while it roams around
maybe it's fate
or a strange genetic trait
all I know is sometimes living in a cartoon *****
WATCH OUT OF THAT TRU POW!!!!!!!
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
Penguins painted pink,
peacefully practising pragmatic pebble placement.
Perfectly pointy piles, please!
Profoundly pious Pandas ponder pancreatic problems,
predict potential palsy.
Prognosis? Perilously poor.
Pale porpoises proudly plunge purple pools,
placidly pasturing petrified plankton.
Poor protozoans perish.
Portly, paunchy, plumpish, porcine, porky pigs
populate putrid puddles,
Pulverizing pumpkin pies.
Purposely Prickly porcupines pursue palatable plants,
pin-pointing precisely.
Puce petunias preferred.
Pill popping puppet people perpetuate planetary perdition,
pardon profuse pollution.
Pretentious ******
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
Hamburger Hell
Beefsteak Charlie says to Porky the Pig
I can see the party lights
someone's throwin' a bash and it sure looks big
down at the slaughter house tonight
say lets get together and hit the buffet
you might as well stuff yourself
they'll only throw it away
Old Colonel Sanders says to Elsie the Cow
golly baby you're the one
two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce,
pickel, cheese, onions on a sesame seed bun
say we just got time for a roll in the hay
might as well stuff yourself
they're here to take you away
I know where you're going, I can tell
don't go looking for me
down in Hamburger Hell
don't misunderstand me I wish you well
don't go looking for me
down in Hamburger Hell
lyrics by Todd Rundgren
Gomer LePoet...
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
Am I too nice
Am I too dorky
Am I too stupid
Am I too porky
I don't know if I can
But I have to try
My heart aches so bad
It wants to lay down and die
I know who I am
Very smart and so cool
If you don't think so
You must be a fool
I know what I am
I'm an original catch
So to all you guys
It's your turn to fetch
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 6:32 AM UTC
There once lived a girl in New York,
she really enjoyed eating pork.
Her friends were disgusted
that she so lusted
after eating pork without a fork.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 5:09 AM UTC
She didn't want spring,
she wanted autumn.
She wanted
the butterscotch leaves
snuggling the curbs
and porky pumpkins
with fire for a heart.
She wanted autumn
even when underground,
where seasons are unseen
except in the snow
sprinkled in a man's hair,
or heard, a sneeze and a sniffle
into a flimsy tissue.
She wanted autumn back,
like a first kiss over again,
like a childhood memory
flipped to the front of her mind
to stay there,
a vicious, intense red.
But she was stuck in spring,
writing about Octobers,
what happened back then,
how it opened like a flower,
and whether come next year
the season will breathe
orange again.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
SON OF A BI...BIT...BITC...GUN!
Porky Pig
hits his thumb
with a hammer.
It swells up
and throbs
only like a cartoon can.
Now, back then...
***** is not a word
you use in cartoon land
or in front of your Dad or Mum.
But Porky stu...stu...stamm...stutters:
”Oh! SON OF A BI..BIT...GUN!"
Then winks at us and says:
”Ha you thought I was goin’ to say: 'BITCH!' ...didn't ya!"
It catches on...
becomes a catch phrase.
We use it every time
we can.
Everything is BI...BI...BI...GUN!
Mum can’t understand
where we got the word from.
When we explain
- she frets:
“Don’t tell Porkie Pies!
Porky Pig would never say that! ”
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
**** chucking his weight around.
Hardship chap is sailing away,
Filling in forms on office computer.
From yesterday into today.
And into the future.
And **** he says you're much too early, got you by the short and curlys.
Chaps a freaking telly tubby.
Wearing no hat but, his jobs worth hat.
Me, well I am no snob.
Will be glad to start my job.
Sitting in benefit heaven.
Watching the security guard pacing the floor.
Snotty mother, him not me.
Benefits given for free?
The porky chap is joking.
Asked to use the lavatory.
There isn't one within,
Where on earth's this old woman to go to discard her gin.
(c)Livvi
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Look at Prince Charles' profile
see the high forehead and receding baldness
the jutting nose, a strong noble Grecian look
take a look at Prince William, same features
his is even more defined
so our plebs on the Clapham omnibus
declares quite seriously that
these lovely royal profiles resembles a horse
neigh, neigh do not scold the plebs
they see only what the lower plebs brains sees
and perhaps
because Royals have a strong historical link with Horses
a royal maiden had at one time taken a horse to bed
Come to think of it, Catherine The Great
Empress of Russia
reportedly did take a horse for a bit of jiggery porky
so maybe there's a bit of equine bloodline in all royal lineages
after-all the horse is considered a handsome proud and noble beast
So I embrace my horse ancestry and can also confirm
that I am packed as a horse in the lower region as well....
Any clean and disease-free female wanting a ride is welcomed
please contact me at Buck house and bring a big hat along
NO, not for my head...you silly twit......
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 8:45 PM UTC
because the english language was blatantly
trying to keep the romans at the gates
and in check and in some sort of ******
need to penetrate the sulphur
cliffs of dover (i'm a daltonist
mind you, i see them as sulphur
tinged than a morose magnolia
pale slightly pinky) -
because the old guard was kept,
no barbaric diacritical innovation
was applied,
and because of this,
instead of acquiring the barbaric
ß
(sh s z ś
interchange) or
the barbaric egalitèr(e) -
yes, looks pretty, but a flying ****
in terms of comprehension, porky...
so instead of revised latin phonetic optic
encoding, we have the modern
dilemma of english over-use of acronyms,
e.g.: 2moro, 2nite, gr8, *** tfh, ***
the english language has become acronym mad
and subsequently, very very ugly.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
Walking down the road of what used to be hope, and inspiration, but what is now nothing more than an abysmal canyon whose prickly labyrinth walls I cannot seem to muster the brawn to climb over or run through.
I've seen this shrub before, thrice. Look at it, lessening into further darkness with each beat of a broken wing. I am forever set in this ritual purgatory. A separate state of consciousness unlike that of a recreational high.
A blade swims across marble, hitting snags at semi-frequent intervals. Strawberry thick streaks rushing across to the finish line, steady as she goes.
Gliding through a meadow of friendly daffodils and happy ticks marveling foolishly at how far they run, oblivious to the one-way mirror they have their Porky Pig noses turned up at. Icy harsh beads of green stabbing my face with every staggering breath.
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 11:29 AM UTC
They called him "bubbles" when he grew up,
Rolls of fat around his waist.
No one would know from his cancer-ridden body at fifty.
He told me "You'll be that thin in two months"
But I was "porky pig" to him
With added jelly rolls
Though we really did try.
No matter how many awards,
his esophagus was still torn,
Keeping a deep secret.
One day, I saw him go to his house
And two weeks later he was dead.
*I'm going to make you a good athelete
If it's the last thing I do.*
And it was... sort of.
Only tall, thin girls could compete,
the next lady said,
glaring at me disapprovingly,
but no one knew I was dying.
Not even me.
I was still. too. fat.
It was a chilly day
When I threw the long black dress on
And nearly puked at the reflection looking back at me.
By two days after Christmas,
The anniversary of his death,
I could be thin just as he wanted
And fulfill his final wish.
Nothing is ever good enough.
Another year passed,
Filled with everything but carbs,
Proved to be an extraneous variable.
They thought they were helping.
Thought.
I thought about it for awhile
On my extremely long run
Fueled by 800 calories.
I thought about it.
As I stared at the half-digested food
and prepared for the next heave.
Maybe someday I'll think about it
In a skinnier body.
Maybe someday I'll be like him.
Thin.
Dead.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Boy Porky,
I wished the
white people
would shut
UP, but the
snow
I thought they
like white?
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
A lie in a person's life is about as useful as putting no filling in a porky pie
Untruth about an innocent life is telling others they are like an illogical algorithm,
Falsehood is the tool of cheats and fraudsters which separates the neighbourhood,
Fib can be found at the beginning of almost every criminal activity, just a tip,
Fabrication of evidence against **** sapiens is our human destruction,
Deception is only for sporting rivalry, has no place in a human relationship,
Falsification for hiding the fact and truth, the easier our mind, heart, and soul yield to temptation,
White lie is like writing white ink on white paper and finding the truth stained on paper when dry,
Half-truth is an incomplete symmetry leaving the divine being looking for the other half,
Exaggeration forms our expectation higher than necessary leading to flaws in execution.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
I want to cry.
I want to cry,
Cry,
Cry,
And hope that the tears are the 500 calories I didn't want.
Nobody is listening,
I beg them to stop giving me unhealthy food,
I'm trying to cut down
But they continue to give it to me.
Wow you've put on weight, getting a bit porky aren't you?
The cycle starts again.
Cry,
Wallow in self pity,
Feel so much shame because of the ice cream someone made me even though I said no,
Then they wonder why I get so angry and frustrated,
Then tell me to stop being silly and that I need to eat.
Don't tell me one thing,
Then call me another.
Believe
it
or
not,
It's hard to eat the food in front of me when I know that each bite equals to another unneeded remark about the shame that hangs from my bones that I am desperately trying to shift.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
These five plums
Are here for the week
Treat them well,
Said Clarence Benn-Bell.
The depiction of listening to 1845
Makes him feel more unborn
Than alive.
Makes him feel under milky water
Makes him feel porky and flat.
Makes him weep for his nation
And the late Mr. Drepple's Thursday hat
Has arrived at last at its destination.
His breakfast combines six morning sources.
James cannot form four of those.
Agnes took 18 historical rejects,
But the death table of April 1819
Was between a grave of kites and a stained editor of physical mouth types.
Whilst the dreaded Evidence Garden is structurally within St Autumn's torture night.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC