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"turkey" poems
‘To bed! To bed!’ Said Sleepy-head; ‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow; ‘Put on the pan,’ Said Greedy Nan; ‘We'll sup before we go.’ (from Mother Goose) They sat at the kitchen table as The candle flickered low, And Greedy Nan put on the pan To indulge her sister, Slow, While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle Blotted her book with tears, And thought of her Beau from long ago Who she hadn’t seen for years. ‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me, Why doesn’t Alan Dell? I’m wearing the dress cut low for me And I’ve hitched my skirt as well. I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so You’d think it would drive them wild.’ ‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow, ‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’ While over the pan stood Greedy Nan, Was cracking a turkey’s egg, A lump of yeast and a slice of beast And a single spider’s leg. With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat And a toe of frog for the spell, She needed to turn her sister off From her crush on Alan Dell. For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl And would have to marry first, The other two would wait in the queue Or their fortunes be reversed, The omelette sizzled, and in the pan She added before they saw, A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant For the mating game meant war. She sliced the omelette into half And she served them up a piece, ‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle But Slow enjoyed the feast. ‘I’m not that terribly hungry now I’ve cooked it up in the pan, I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’ Said the scheming Greedy Nan. They finished up and they sat awhile, And they mused about their fate, ‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon, For us it will be too late.’ ‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’ Said Nan, without a blink, Lured them away from her secret fire To confuse what they might think. ‘The room is woozy, spinning around, I’d better get me to bed,’ Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown Saw Dwarves dancing in her head. But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan To clear all signs of the spell, Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned For the sake of Alan Dell. And when he came in the morning Greedy Nan was sat by the door, While Annabelle and her sister Slow Were lying dead on the floor, ‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al, It was only a simple spell,’ But as he cuffed and led her away He frowned, did Alan Dell. David Lewis Paget
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
To Bed! To Bed!
‘To bed! To bed!’ Said Sleepy-head; ‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow; ‘Put on the pan,’ Said Greedy Nan; ‘We'll sup before we go.’ (from Mother Goose) They sat at the kitchen table as The candle flickered low, And Greedy Nan put on the pan To indulge her sister, Slow, While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle Blotted her book with tears, And thought of her Beau from long ago Who she hadn’t seen for years. ‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me, Why doesn’t Alan Dell? I’m wearing the dress cut low for me And I’ve hitched my skirt as well. I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so You’d think it would drive them wild.’ ‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow, ‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’ While over the pan stood Greedy Nan, Was cracking a turkey’s egg, A lump of yeast and a slice of beast And a single spider’s leg. With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat And a toe of frog for the spell, She needed to turn her sister off From her crush on Alan Dell. For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl And would have to marry first, The other two would wait in the queue Or their fortunes be reversed, The omelette sizzled, and in the pan She added before they saw, A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant For the mating game meant war. She sliced the omelette into half And she served them up a piece, ‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle But Slow enjoyed the feast. ‘I’m not that terribly hungry now I’ve cooked it up in the pan, I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’ Said the scheming Greedy Nan. They finished up and they sat awhile, And they mused about their fate, ‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon, For us it will be too late.’ ‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’ Said Nan, without a blink, Lured them away from her secret fire To confuse what they might think. ‘The room is woozy, spinning around, I’d better get me to bed,’ Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown Saw Dwarves dancing in her head. But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan To clear all signs of the spell, Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned For the sake of Alan Dell. And when he came in the morning Greedy Nan was sat by the door, While Annabelle and her sister Slow Were lying dead on the floor, ‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al, It was only a simple spell,’ But as he cuffed and led her away He frowned, did Alan Dell. David Lewis Paget
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72
for Susan O'Neill Roe What a thrill ---- My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of hinge Of skin, A flap like a hat, Dead white. Then that red plush. Little pilgrim, The Indian's axed your scalp. Your turkey wattle Carpet rolls Straight from the heart. I step on it, Clutching my bottle Of pink fizz. A celebration, this is. Out of a gap A million soldiers run, Redcoats, every one. Whose side are they one? O my Homunculus, I am ill. I have taken a pill to **** The thin Papery feeling. Saboteur, Kamikaze man ---- The stain on your Gauze Ku Klux **** Babushka Darkens and tarnishes and when The balled Pulp of your heart Confronts its small Mill of silence How you jump ---- Trepanned veteran, ***** girl, Thumb stump.
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23.5k
Cut
Sweet is the village home With the overhanging trees With the open well on the east With the kitchen adjacent to the well.. The coconut trees giving shade The Jack fruit and the mango trees Decorating the land beside The peacocks roosting on the trees The red Mangalore tiles Giving protection from the sun and the rain The green chillies and the bananas The drumstick tree and the climbers Ginger and Curry leaf tree The Coccinia and the Turkey berry Plants and climbers Giving all the vegetables in-house The long verandahs The corridors The wooden stairs The large dining hall It is not just a home But a life itself With nostalgic memories Which will never die at all... The house that has seen Various happy moments Various sad events Which has seen birth and death It is not just a home But a life itself With nostalgic memories Which will never die at all.....
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
The Village Home
During a walk through the hallway of the primary school I find hallways filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters. What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for? Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family. How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word? At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice: *What are you thankful for?* ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What am I thankful for? Happiness, and family and security and nature and friends. I am thankful for friends. I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles. I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions, for inabilty to speak. I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road, and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation. Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim and who listens to my sob stories. I am thankful for singing in the rain. And styling hair in the sink for screeching and howling and hissing. I am thankful for obkirchergasses, for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours. I am thankful for mentos, and walnuts. I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes. I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs and for eloquence. I am thankful for good taste in music and for strong opinions. I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs. I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques. I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers, and Hawaii get aways. I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings. I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty and for poetry buddies. I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice, and poor old wenches. I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures. I am thankful for the looks we get: looks of loud disapproval, and whispers of quiet exasperation. I am thankful for golden men and loud singing, for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers. I am thankful for Aunt Jemima. I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs. I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks. I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers. I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me. Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
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Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
Ode to a Turkey
During a walk through the hallway of the primary school I find hallways filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters. What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for? Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family. How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word? At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice: *What are you thankful for?* ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What am I thankful for? Happiness, and family and security and nature and friends. I am thankful for friends. I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles. I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions, for inabilty to speak. I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road, and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation. Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim and who listens to my sob stories. I am thankful for singing in the rain. And styling hair in the sink for screeching and howling and hissing. I am thankful for obkirchergasses, for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours. I am thankful for mentos, and walnuts. I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes. I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs and for eloquence. I am thankful for good taste in music and for strong opinions. I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs. I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques. I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers, and Hawaii get aways. I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings. I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty and for poetry buddies. I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice, and poor old wenches. I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures. I am thankful for the looks we get: looks of loud disapproval, and whispers of quiet exasperation. I am thankful for golden men and loud singing, for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers. I am thankful for Aunt Jemima. I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs. I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks. I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers. I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me. Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs 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hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
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196
having the low down blues and going into a restraunt to eat. you sit at a table. the waitress smiles at you. she's dumpy. her *** is too big. she radiates kindess and symphaty. live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony. o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent. you order a turkey sandwich and a beer. the man at the table across from you has watery blue eyes and a head like an elephant. at a table further down are 3 men with very tiny heads and long necks like ostiches. they talk loudly of land development. why, you think, did I ever come in here when I have the low-down blues? then the the waitress comes back eith the sandwich and she asks you if there will be anything else? snd you tell her, no no, this will be fine. then somebody behind you laughs. it's a cork laugh filled with sand and broken glass. you begin eating the sandwhich. it's something. it's a minor, difficult, sensible action like composing a popular song to make a 14-year old weep. you order another beer. jesus,look at that guy his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's whistling. well, time to get out. pivk up the bill. tip. go to the register. pay. pick up a toothpick. go out the door. your car is still there. and there are 3 men with heads and necks like ostriches all getting into one car. they each have a toothpick and now they are talking about women. they drive away first they drive away fast. they're best i guess. it's an unberably hot day. there's a first-stage smog alert. all the birds and plants are dead or dying. you start the engine.
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11.1k
Another Day
having the low down blues and going into a restraunt to eat. you sit at a table. the waitress smiles at you. she's dumpy. her *** is too big. she radiates kindess and symphaty. live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony. o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent. you order a turkey sandwich and a beer. the man at the table across from you has watery blue eyes and a head like an elephant. at a table further down are 3 men with very tiny heads and long necks like ostiches. they talk loudly of land development. why, you think, did I ever come in here when I have the low-down blues? then the the waitress comes back eith the sandwich and she asks you if there will be anything else? snd you tell her, no no, this will be fine. then somebody behind you laughs. it's a cork laugh filled with sand and broken glass. you begin eating the sandwhich. it's something. it's a minor, difficult, sensible action like composing a popular song to make a 14-year old weep. you order another beer. jesus,look at that guy his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's whistling. well, time to get out. pivk up the bill. tip. go to the register. pay. pick up a toothpick. go out the door. your car is still there. and there are 3 men with heads and necks like ostriches all getting into one car. they each have a toothpick and now they are talking about women. they drive away first they drive away fast. they're best i guess. it's an unberably hot day. there's a first-stage smog alert. all the birds and plants are dead or dying. you start the engine.
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62
Ah, the season of gifting. Antagonist of year-long thrifting. Tradition sadistic, Materialistic, Four quarters in pockets worth sifting. This year I hereby proclaim I shan’t be consumed by the game. Cycle of curse Purpose perverse The namesake, an oversight became. Christ’s birth did in fact begin, Holiday distracted by sin. Misguided it be To forget idly The sacrifice He made for all men. We naively regard generosity As holiday’s behavioral piosity. But if dollars and cents Are the tools of offense Over shadow favor luminosity. Water in Africa is ***** American child in poverty. Politics aside, Convenient homicide, To enable the ills of society. In the global economy we flaunt Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt. First world problems abound Pass the turkey around Central heating and air, what a jaunt! What if this season we decide To extend two palms open wide? Sacrificing ourselves Rather than stocking our shelves Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.” Don’t spend your money on me this year. Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer. Instead know you can Distribute more than A snort, a lie, and a tear. (optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line) Snort of derision, Lies of provision, Tears, even true, Hardly subdue Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
Stewardship (a series of limericks)
The Kurds live In parts of Syria, Iraq, and Iran As well as Kurdistan Kurdish groups such as the KCK and PJAK Seek democratic autonomy for Kurds And democracies in Turkey, Iran and Syria Aposim is a grassroots socialist movement That promotes gender equality Apo is the political founder of the PKK and PJAK The female fighters of PJAK Don't have families Because this will weaken their commitment To the organization Thomas Morton Host of this Vice documentary Stays in a farmhouse He headed up to meet the fighters The PJAK division he met with Fights for women's rights Around the Iranian border They tell Thomas Women are being killed in Iran It is a mental persecution of women The PJAK representative says It is about the right to democracy Freedom, Equality, and education The woman explains that The Iranians use Sharia and Islam For their own purposes It is not true Islam according To the PJAK representative In true Islam there is equality and equity Thomas That really was priceless Watching you line dance with them Really funny I think the women of PJAK Got a kick out of it too God bless the women of PJAK Such beautiful smiles Full of life Standing up for women's rights
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Kurds Seeking Democratic Autonomy
with an Apple Macintosh you can't run Radio Shack programs in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file you have created on an IBM Personal Computer. both Kaypro and Osborne computers use the CP/M operating system but can't read each other's handwriting for they format (write on) discs in different ways. the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but can't use most programs produced for the IBM Personal Computer unless certain bits and bytes are altered but the wind still blows over Savannah and in the Spring the turkey buzzard struts and flounces before his hens.
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9.8k
16-bit Intel 8088 chip
Just the thought of them makes your jawbone ache: those turkey dinners, those holidays with the air around the woodstove baked to a stupor, and Aunt Lil's tablecloth stained by her girlhood's gravy. A doggy wordless wisdom whimpers from your uncles' collected eyes; their very jokes creak with genetic sorrow, a strain of common heritage that hurts the gut. Sheer boredom and fascination! A spidering of chromosomes webs even the infants in and holds us fast around the spread of rotting food, of too-sweet pie. The cousins buzz, the nephews crawl; to love one's self is to love them all.
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9.7k
Relatives
Our family got the news today Our bubba's gettin' hitched Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen Got our boy bewitched He's sayin' that he loves her He's making her his bride She's the first to get him this close Though not too many tried We've got to get things ready Send invitations and make candles We've got to get the good jars out The one's that still have handles The minister is on alert We've got to make some shine Grandpa says he'll make some up But, it will not all be mine Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow This time there'll be no shotgun Like the last time for old Ben This time the guns are empty Not the way they were back then The banjos will be tuned up There'll be music in the air The cops won't try to stop it I think most will all be there The ladies will be planning Just how to serve up all the grub While Bubba has to find a suit And therein lies the rub He's never worn a suit at all Not even for a day He's only dressed in coveralls And that's how he's gonna stay Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow It'll be a **** dang doodle A hell of a good time It'll only be completed When they run out of the shine there'll be singing and some dancing Underneath the harvest moon We can't wait for it to happen It cannot come too soon There'll be readings from the bible Which the minister will read And as good holy Christians Everyone will heed There's sure to be some fighting Before the couple say "I do" I mean, they are both cousins I'm gonna go...aren't you? Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
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Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Gonna be a redneck wedding
Our family got the news today Our bubba's gettin' hitched Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen Got our boy bewitched He's sayin' that he loves her He's making her his bride She's the first to get him this close Though not too many tried We've got to get things ready Send invitations and make candles We've got to get the good jars out The one's that still have handles The minister is on alert We've got to make some shine Grandpa says he'll make some up But, it will not all be mine Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow This time there'll be no shotgun Like the last time for old Ben This time the guns are empty Not the way they were back then The banjos will be tuned up There'll be music in the air The cops won't try to stop it I think most will all be there The ladies will be planning Just how to serve up all the grub While Bubba has to find a suit And therein lies the rub He's never worn a suit at all Not even for a day He's only dressed in coveralls And that's how he's gonna stay Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow It'll be a **** dang doodle A hell of a good time It'll only be completed When they run out of the shine there'll be singing and some dancing Underneath the harvest moon We can't wait for it to happen It cannot come too soon There'll be readings from the bible Which the minister will read And as good holy Christians Everyone will heed There's sure to be some fighting Before the couple say "I do" I mean, they are both cousins I'm gonna go...aren't you? Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
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60
your blood shot eyes so red and round their juicy plumpness compels me to eat my baby tomatoes the pungent smell of your ***** second-hand smoke fills me with desire for some beef jerky the sickly sight of your slimy, greasy hair leave me desperate with longing for some succulent string cheese when you scarf down your food as if the world was ending i can feel my partially digested turkey sandwich make its way back up my throat and spew out all over your yogurt ruining it calculus. (co-authored)
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Mary Jane Takes Calculus
THERE'S RUDOLPH, FROSTY, SANTA CLAUS AND GOOD OLD EBENEEZER THERE'S CAROLS SUNG BY EVERYONE FROM KISS ON THROUGH TO WHEEZER THERE'S CD'S OUT FROM NAT KING COLE, THE BOSTON POPS HAVE TWO THERE'S  ONE OUT  NEIL DIAMOND WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OLD NEIL'S A JEW THE STORES HAVE TINSEL EVERYWHERE, THEIR TREES TOO,LOOKING NICE THERE'S WRAPPING PAPER, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND EVEN PLASTIC ICE THEY ATTACK YOUR SENSES CONSTANTLY, THEY MUST THINK I'M A FOOL FOR ALL THIS STUFF IS ON DISPLAY, BEFORE THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL THERE'S A RASTAFARIAN SANTA CLAUS WITH DREADLOCKS KNOWN AS "STONEY" GENETICALLY ALTERED TURKEY MEAT THAT TASTES JUST LIKE BALONEY PEOPLE DON'T BUY CHRISTMAS GIFTS THEY SEEM TO JUST GIVE MONEY SO THEY GO SHOPPING BOXING DAY, AND THIS I FIND QUITE FUNNY THE CHARITIES ARE ON THE PHONE AND AT YOUR DOOR EACH NIGHT THEY WORK YOU WITH SOME CHRISTMAS GUILT, AND SAY "IT'S ONLY RIGHT" TO DONATE TO UNFORTUNATES AND THEIR FOLKS NEED IT MOST" AS THEY FLASH THEIR SMILES, FAKE I/D'S BEFORE THEIR PHONY BOAST PEOPLE SHOP AND BUY AND BUY AND THEN THEY ALL RE-GIFT MOST TIMES YOU'LL GET CHRISTMAS CAKE, THAT'S REALLY HARD TO LIFT YOU WORK O.T. AND DO YOUR BEST, YOUR CHRISTMAS CASH TO SAVE AND YOU SMILE WHEN YOU GET YOUR GIFT, AND IT'S THE ONE YOU GAVE CHRISTMAS IS LESS FESTIVE AND TO ME IT'S GOTTEN RATHER CLINICAL WITH SCHEDULES MADE AND SALES AND THINGS, IT'S MADE ME RATHER CYNICAL TO SAY WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS, I READ THOMAS ACQUINAS BUT INSTEAD, I'LL USE A QUOTE FROM SHCULTZ'S PROPHET LINUS ..."AND SUDDENLY THERE WAS WITH THE ANGEL A MULTITUDE OF THE HEAVENLY HOST PRAISING GOD AND SAYING "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN."" AND THAT IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT....PLAIN AND SIMPLE.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
The True Meaning of Christmas (Thank you Linus) EDITED
THERE'S RUDOLPH, FROSTY, SANTA CLAUS AND GOOD OLD EBENEEZER THERE'S CAROLS SUNG BY EVERYONE FROM KISS ON THROUGH TO WHEEZER THERE'S CD'S OUT FROM NAT KING COLE, THE BOSTON POPS HAVE TWO THERE'S  ONE OUT  NEIL DIAMOND WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OLD NEIL'S A JEW THE STORES HAVE TINSEL EVERYWHERE, THEIR TREES TOO,LOOKING NICE THERE'S WRAPPING PAPER, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND EVEN PLASTIC ICE THEY ATTACK YOUR SENSES CONSTANTLY, THEY MUST THINK I'M A FOOL FOR ALL THIS STUFF IS ON DISPLAY, BEFORE THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL THERE'S A RASTAFARIAN SANTA CLAUS WITH DREADLOCKS KNOWN AS "STONEY" GENETICALLY ALTERED TURKEY MEAT THAT TASTES JUST LIKE BALONEY PEOPLE DON'T BUY CHRISTMAS GIFTS THEY SEEM TO JUST GIVE MONEY SO THEY GO SHOPPING BOXING DAY, AND THIS I FIND QUITE FUNNY THE CHARITIES ARE ON THE PHONE AND AT YOUR DOOR EACH NIGHT THEY WORK YOU WITH SOME CHRISTMAS GUILT, AND SAY "IT'S ONLY RIGHT" TO DONATE TO UNFORTUNATES AND THEIR FOLKS NEED IT MOST" AS THEY FLASH THEIR SMILES, FAKE I/D'S BEFORE THEIR PHONY BOAST PEOPLE SHOP AND BUY AND BUY AND THEN THEY ALL RE-GIFT MOST TIMES YOU'LL GET CHRISTMAS CAKE, THAT'S REALLY HARD TO LIFT YOU WORK O.T. AND DO YOUR BEST, YOUR CHRISTMAS CASH TO SAVE AND YOU SMILE WHEN YOU GET YOUR GIFT, AND IT'S THE ONE YOU GAVE CHRISTMAS IS LESS FESTIVE AND TO ME IT'S GOTTEN RATHER CLINICAL WITH SCHEDULES MADE AND SALES AND THINGS, IT'S MADE ME RATHER CYNICAL TO SAY WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS, I READ THOMAS ACQUINAS BUT INSTEAD, I'LL USE A QUOTE FROM SHCULTZ'S PROPHET LINUS ..."AND SUDDENLY THERE WAS WITH THE ANGEL A MULTITUDE OF THE HEAVENLY HOST PRAISING GOD AND SAYING "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN."" AND THAT IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT....PLAIN AND SIMPLE.
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raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling pineapple sweat, ******* neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
normal ***
The table is set for our thanksgiving feast and all have taken their place The meal of the year, is finally here, and oh, how great it will taste.. Potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce, and rolls that are made fresh and hot. Turkey with stuffing, right out of the oven. Pumpkin pie that hasn’t been bought. Our family is anxiously gathered around in a circle of love hand in hand. A scene reminiscent of thanksgivings past. A tradition we all understand. Dad offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God for abundance of blessings we share. Tears touch his cheeks as he humbly gives thanks for much more than the food that is there. Though stomachs are empty, each heart is full while united as family we pray, Thanking dear God for His wonderful love, and our blessings this Thanksgiving Day. When this day is gone and life carries on, may gratitude live on in me. Lord help me, I pray, to make every day a day of thanksgiving to Thee.
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Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 10:40 AM UTC
Thanksgiving Table
The human mind is an interesting thing Mine is very As it tends to wander I mean Explore I have been told by an authority My wife That she's never seen one like it Although how she can see a mind I don't know She has seen a lot in her life Both with and before me She was a Travel Agent She's been to Turkey I like turkey I made an interesting stuffing for turkey once It was during my time in the seafood retail business In a fish market It, the stuffing I mean, had shrimp, scallops and crayfish in it My wife didn't like it much, she's of Irish heritage She's been to Ireland too Twice Once in college and once with her family Ireland is where Delorian made his cars in the 1980s Before he was arrested for trafficking in ******* I have not been to Ireland I have been to France, Belgium and England I stayed in Waterloo Belgium for two weeks In the 80's When I was 25 Waterloo is where Napoleon was finally vanquished Beaten by an Englishman They have a monument, the lion, on top of a big hill there I had to climb it twice The first time I forgot my camera I got a new camera recently A Pentax I have had several since Waterloo The camera hasn't been anywhere interesting Just my back yard I use it to take pictures of birds At our feeder In the big maple tree On the ground There is even a turkey that comes in our yard My wife's been to Turkey She was a Travel Agent
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Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
A Human Mind
Sunday: Ant Pills Bear Traps Cobra Feet Monday: Dolphin Lungs Eel Soup Frog Limbs Tuesday: Gecko Suits Horse Pie Inchworm *** Wednesday: Jaguar Barbed Koala Beer Lynx Lynch Thursday: Monkey Chips Narwhal Fashions Otter Drugs Friday: Porcupine Rehab Quail Map Roadrunner Piano Saturday: Slug Party Turkey Slop Urchin See Sunday: Vulture Guns Walrus Tongues X No Monday: Yellowjacket Fever Zebra Clowns
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Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
Jeff Corwin Teaches Lindsay Lohan the ABCs
Jackal in his church pants, Bad kid with punk jams, Cramming nonsense in his conscience, Skateboarding prophets, Dividing light into chambers, Bag of **** for his neighbors, Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper, Applesauce in the inside, A coconut shell for the front, Pineapple knives for the slaughtering, Right into a strawberry's gut, He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth, But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons, Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin, And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Kaleidoscopic Turkey ****
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
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Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
Mary had a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
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(1) The day she visited the dissecting room They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey, Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume Of the death vats clung to them; The white-smocked boys started working. The head of his cadaver had caved in, And she could scarcely make out anything In that rubble of skull plates and old leather. A sallow piece of string held it together. In their jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow. He hands her the cut-out heart like a cracked heirloom. (2) In Brueghel's panorama of smoke and slaughter Two people only are blind to the carrion army: He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin Skirts, sings in the direction Of her bare shoulder, while she bends, Finger a leaflet of music, over him, Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands Of the death's-head shadowing their song. These Flemish lovers flourish;not for long. Yet desolation, stalled in paint, spares the little country Foolish, delicate, in the lower right hand corner.
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6.7k
Two Views Of A Cadaver Room
Thanksgiving is a time that never will I forget Hopping in the car for a very long ride to grandma's house With heavy white frost on the grass, glistening in the sun Singing songs and counting grain bins to pass the time Now the frost is melting, we are getting close to the grandparents Rounding that last bend and then their lane up to the house Riding up to the house I can see smoke coming from the chimney To the door and into the house, I see my cousins playing, and smell the Turkey Grandma's brown and gold tablecloth, covered with her silver trimmed grey dishes and crystal goblets ready for us to eat. Have to sit and chat while watching the Macy's parade Saying our blessings and giving our Thanks as we begin the feast Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
Over the River and through the Woods
The white cock's tail Tosses in the wind. The turkey-cock's tail Glitters in the sun. Water in the fields. The wind pours down. The feathers flare And bluster in the wind. Remus, blow your horn! I'm ploughing on Sunday, Ploughing North America. Blow your horn! Tum-ti-tum, Ti-tum-tum-tum! The turkey-cock's tail Spreads to the sun. The white cock's tail Streams to the moon. Water in the fields. The wind pours down.
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6.3k
Ploughing On Sunday