"warthog" poems
The Lion and the Warthog
A lion fierce, and proud, and cruel
Once led the largest pride.
They hunted well, starvation scarce,
The fear spread far and wide.
A warthog aged with years and fears,
Knew something must be done.
This hunter, killer, must be stopped,
So a clever plan he spun.
The warthog saw the lion pride
Hunting flocks of sheep.
"I bet you can't cross River Wide
With just one solid leap."
The lion swelled with pride and roared,
"You speak a foolish lie!"
He'd never done it once before,
But he'd been challenged; he must try.
Said warthog, "If you cross it now,
I'll let you eat me whole.
But if I cross without a scratch,
Here you'll hunt no other soul."
The lion leaped for River Wide,
And splashed into the waves.
He climbed back up and dried himself,
His pride, he could not save.
The warthog's turn had come at last;
He pushed a broken tree.
It fell across the River Wide,
He walked across with glee.
"There, you see, you'll hunt no more;
Your pride has you in bind.
It's brave to leap the River Wide,
But braver yet to use your mind."
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
On the African savannah,
The mission brief had been simple.
Go in and find a Warthog.
The Americans had gone in and nuked the place,
Then claimed there had been none to begin with.
The Israelis against strong,
Local advice,
Had sent in Mossad,
Undercover.
-why go in, looking like food,
the lions had a field day-
The Africans, however,
Had not reported by nightfall,
So at daybreak a search party was launched.
They found three Kenyans surrounding a giraffe,
Spread-eagled securely to an Acacia tree.
The Sergeant-at-arms was taking notes,
Whilst his Officers flogged,
The poor thing screaming,
“Confess you’re a Warthog, confess!”
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 2:42 AM UTC
I had the worst nightmare of my life last night
awoke with a migraine sweating and white
a painful dreadful evil unsettling dream
where monsters pursued an awful scheme
In a distant country of sun and dust
warped parodied men followed their lust
hunting down all beasts they see
to gather for meat and misery
I was trapped in a giant metal machine
a factory of pain made so obscene
fire would spout and burn the trees
and bring the forest to its knees
all of the creatures ran in fear
as this evil killing thing came near
pipes ****** smaller creatures in
the screaming still I hear within
The horrors that I dreamed run on
I hope they fade and soon are gone
two images I can't forget
forever in my eyes are set
A baby elephant ****** up whole
and screaming in the tube poor soul
its mother trying still to fight
but crushed beneath the iron might
And from the burning bushes ran
a baby warthog fast as it can
but no hope for the poor wee beast
its leg torn off god how it bleeds
Where do dreams like this come from
and why do memories linger on
dark vision of a distant time
our future race's final crime
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
I'll cast my spell, a witch's brew, stirring black cauldrons of sweet revenge.
One drop of pain added, a tablespoon of resentment, blowing out the candles that leave their scent.
A warthog 's beard, a sliver of grudge, and the dose is potent, with lethal intentions.
Drink slowly, let me watch the last sip trickle down your throat, I've called it something natural and you never minded. I'm sexually tranformed by your GASPING FOR AIR.
Lovers beware of this cursed and scorned woman, whose hatred runs deep and wide. She patiently waits at her crooked door, with a one sided smile to lure you in.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Just in the nick of time,
before we kissed
our gnarly ***** goodbye,
we got a reprieve
from two fast-movers
screaming above us
in a vertical.
We got explosive
snaps,
crackles
& pops,
such deliverance
from the diesel-smoke skies,
some guys got tears in their eyes.
It was a time of holy reverance,
a cause for celebration,
as we thanked God
for those killer
buzzsaws
bringing
total destruction
on our perimeter.
High fives all around.
Alleluia.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC
I remember sitting outside
the steel-tracks,
hidden under the nets.
Stars would peek through
the fluttering radar-resistant leaves
& an occasional warthog
would do a flyby.
We'd smoke (not literally) & joke,
tell funny stories to keep our morale high.
Every now and then,
we'd talk about a dead comrade
or a lost sweetheart.
I never let them boys see me cry,
but I did,
usually in the bent arm
of my ACU's.
Sometimes my armor would catch a drop.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
The warthog is terribly warty.
It has a million and forty.
You might think it would seem
A dermatologist's dream
To catch one while out on a sortie.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
all those doughy-eyed, snot-nosed, putty-cheeked, frog-mouthed, bull-headed, cowardice faces: they were born
without sorrow
until they hand over their lives
to someone they truly don’t know
and they do it with a smile
and a gleam in their eye
and then they get sandpapered down
and polished in something
they did not choose,
their freedoms get capsized and
they don’t know what they’ve done
or why they’ve done it.
they become enraged and frustrated
with themselves
but they do not know where
to project their anger.
they can’t do it at home.
they’re too afraid of what they might
lose: their own self-made agony
so they take it to work with them
or to the supermarket or to the restaurant
and aim at anyone over any little thing.
they can’t do it at home.
those poor deluded fools careening towards
the only elusive dream that matters: happiness.
some of them are regretting decisions,
some of them are stewing on mistakes,
some of them are plotting their escape
all that sacrifice, all that pap
all those easy words
whistling like stream;
“I love you.”
“I miss you.”
“I want you.”
“I need you.”
all of it: for nothing
all those droopy, sullen-glared, turkey-necked, warthog faces everywhere;
laying in cold beds, coddling empty blankets,
****** in sorrow, contemplating the error of their ways,
alone with themselves, alone with each other.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 9:54 AM UTC
No reservations, no known points, no fish on Mondays,
no more warthog ****** or fermented shark,
nothing but kitchen omerta out the steamy back-alley backdoor,
nothing but adventure, exploration, basic human decency.
Nothing but grace and love and travel,
nothing but a steaming *** full of public love in the end,
nothing but leather and curiosity,
nothing but a hot bowl of noodles in a not-so-alien land.
Nothing but a friend in a foreign place,
inviting us all to be so understanding,
inviting us all to be less afraid of the exotic,
inviting us all to be our best selves in the end.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
threatened
like a cornered animal
like a fish
like a frog
like a harmless
warthog -
i dont even know anymore
grown adult
acting like a kid
feeling like a child
i once was lied to
once decieved
once a little part of me died
a part of me cried
****** over
curled up
evil was all i trusted
evil was all i lusted
torn
just a ball
covered in scrapes
covered in scrapes of
pain,
bruises
and too many loses
till i realized
people grow
people go
people leave
people see
that life is just a flash
in front of thee
that life is just
a flash
a flash
in front of we
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC