"weevil" poems
Big ships, small ships, yachts and dingeys
Floating across the mighty sea
Carving their way, displacing their weight
To keep afloat the Captain and First mate.
Old ships, new ships, schooners and cruise liners
Have crossed paths throughout the ages old
Once to explore, make claim, pirate and fight
Now to wine and dine on a luxurious bite
Salted beef, rock hard bread and weevil-friendly biscuits
A 3 course meal fit for Old Salts alike
Weevils & worms and bugs of all kind
Along with sparse portions of meat, you might find
French wine, filet mignon, sushi and pastries
Buffets and fine dining, variety is key
All you can eat, whenever you'd like
No chores, no work, just eating all night'
What a contrast exists between these two worlds
Only 2 to 300 hundred years apart
Once grimy, risky, arduous and fraught
Now fancy, lazy, and much to be bought
What if the Old Salts could teleport to today
And live aboard our floating hotels?
With no masts to climb or sheets to tend
Would they break or would they bend?
I suppose that switch would be easy enough
But send us back to Pirate-ridden waters
You'd be sure never to hear from us again
Swabbing the deck would **** us alone
Not to mention the food and disease of back when.
- BPW
Dec. 11, 2013
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
My great grandfathers wore dreadlocks
Yet stood firm, proud as peacocks
Patrolling their territory paddocks
Today they are a source of mocks
A representation of sheer evil
In the world we foolishly call civil
Like an attempt on a biscuit by a weevil
We lost it.
Our great forefathers drank milk
And then over the mountains take a hike
Had absolute no need for a bike
Treated all men with respect alike
We are taking concoction for drink
May never cease to suffer sick
Rounded and diabetic as tick
We lost it.
They went to schools to learn practice
Learnt virtue and shunned away vice
To obey all the elders without a voice
Then there was little necessity for police
We are learning to sit all day in office
To treat subordinates with blowing malice
Learning theory, understanding without choice
We depend on book, written advice
Alphabets unlike words know no justice
Scratching as mice full of lice
We lost it.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
**Anything is possible...
Even the impossible
Note that I said ‘the impossible’
And not ‘the seemingly impossible’...
This reality to me has always seemed plausible
Even when I was cold and hard-hearted, when inside my chest there was an icicle
This kind of faith kept me balanced
Like riding a bicycle
Through sanity and mental imbalance
Through all those self-deceptive lies we call…
‘Necessary evils’
When separating the good grain from the bad, do we ever make an exception and say to ourselves… “It isn't fit for consumption, but I’ll keep this grain… for it has but one necessary weevil…”?
If it isn't good for me, it simply isn't good
And I have to distance myself from it
And it is possible for I say it is
It may have seemed impossible previously
For that was how I saw it as
Not anymore
I will ease over this hurdle
And look forward to many more
Yes, look forward to them
For there are no limits anymore.**
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Deer loved one
Please bear with me,
owl bee with ewe as soon as possum bull.
Rhino that things have been on paws lately
bat remember I toad you;
Toucan always find me some plaice warm in your heart
if I'm not lion there beside you.
Giraffe nothing to fear, no one can break the lynx we've made.
Mine is a love that'll never panda, narwhal it
hound any other sole but jaws and yours alone.
You're the porpoise I wake up every morning.
Wren all otter things are bleak, you're my ray of sunshine.
You let minnow weevil always have each other.
With you, newt time passes but stops still.
Love you with vole of my heart
ant i'll never desert you.
Until hen Gobi good
Yours truly
...
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
What I do know about anything
Is that I need to know more
That I don’t know it all
To know which I do pore
Before I am under a pall
To know which anything,
Requires a steadfast liver
The gall of a sea devil;
The whole hog, not just a sliver,
The might of a weevil.
I bid my time and wait for next
Moment, beating heart above,
Think of all that I have vexed,
And prepare anew to love.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Crow's feathers like
The exoskeleton
Of a long-nose weevil,
The color of
Mom's grease-stained
Pots illuminated in moonlight.
They're a mind
That's gone dark
With a tunnel straight through,
Like a billion
Ants all piled
On- throbbing
Can you hear
Them *******
Hear them slurping?
Those oily wings
Writhe in air like bodies
Launched from 90-story trade buildings
They close their eyes;
Sleep forever
Bathing in crow's feathers.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 6:32 PM UTC
Mammy say don't fear the boll-weevil,
Just a bug, don't worry bout him.
But Pappy say the little devil evil,
so he believe in the cotton gin.
This Texas guy say he was an angel,
I followed lock-step, believed what he said.
Didn't seem to have any sharp angles,
he drank some poisoned koolaid now he dead.
Searched at end of rainbow for *** of gold
me be rich ***** no mo po *****
Leprechaun belief, I been told,
While head in sky searching, fell in trench.
Politician and preacher keep saying,
I hear their voice noise grind and grind,
vote for me girl and keep praying,
but in the end it make no nevermind.
I tink at de end of the day I just believe in me.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
They cry about heaven
Even as they transform skin
Into sin, punishable by death
Or **** or disfigurement
Sent by the devil for sure
Wearing tonsures and cassocks
Causing their own brand of havoc
Ruled by insensitivity
Because we are the enemy
No longer human, doomed
To suffer the ravages
Of their bad ***** training
And lack of discipline
Over and over again
On playgrounds as kids.
They did it all over again
When in uniform, warmed
By the glow of popular bigotry
Idiocy blessed by some dope,
Some Protestant proto-pope
Who thinks God has time
To engage in crime in his name
So they can blame him instead.
Little else in their head
They steal land, and brand people
Burn people, assault people
And do their best to make them feel
Their god, their way is not real
And is not worth keeping.
Sleeping at night, nobody knows how
Now that they have shown their colors
To their brothers and sisters;
That they will **** mothers and fathers
And babies and the land
And think it just grand
Because they got paid
As they laid waste,
Turned the gardens to paste
Between the toes of evil.
We the boll, they the weevil;
They mashed us under their feet
No thought of being discreet,
We were fodder for their hatriotism.
Not patriotism.
That is impossible
And totally improbable
Once you’ve sold your soul
To Old Nick and his minions,
Hell’s hand-picked denizens
Who look just like your neighbor;
They labor at jobs, like you do
And look a lot like you, too,
Especially if you make excuses
To commit abuses
And blame it on god.
Savor the rod
And abuse the child.
Isn’t hatred wild?
Always on hand.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Should we all stop eating meat?
No, we’ll starve of protein doing that.
But yes, it’s morally right.
What about plants?
We’ll starve: fruits and berries are all right.
Eat meat instead!
Are we doing enough to avoid nuclear war?
Not enough, we are doomed.
Too much: the next level is with nuclear-holocaust-mutations!
And global warming?
Our greatest threat.
A hoax!
What should we do?
Just what is Good?
****** if we do and ****** if we don’t.
Should we be pacifists or should we fight?
Anyone Out There to put us right?
If there are,
Their lips are kept tight.
Even God, with all of His might.
One Man’s Good is another Man’s Evil,
From a great blue whale to a little Boll Weevil.
For now We stay on a lifelong quest,
Seeking out what might be the best.
Paul Butters
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
i lost my ******* keys like an *******
then i found them on my bookshelf
haphazardly laid about in swoon style
key spooning digital receptor
transmitter
on the drunken prowl debts are paid
verbal inoculations
of heart
a boll weevil of the mind
such thoughts will follow
blindly
without content
clouds in the nitrogen reflective sky
bite marks and bruises on my skin
both condensed by mystical thought
as only a proven theorist could show
the insanity of logic
is our proof of existence
therefore hallucinating long red hairs
the keyboard that is made apparent by the inner hellfire
the so called tortured soul
and the inadequacy of all human comprehension
we can bring an end to the idea of symbolism
and resort to the purest form of command
relinquish all hope in control
jump from roof to roof
off a moving train
escape from that which draws you to your birthplace
end the dying shells
get off the island
stay with your sickness
atleast it's trying to leave you
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Do I live in your mind
Do I fester in your heart
Or has it gotten better with time?
I have grown without you
I'm now a tall sunflower in a field full of daisies
You'll always be a weevil to me
I hope one day you'll love someone as much as you do yourself
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
The future that we bought into has ******* us, all
due to those weevils in the counting houses playing handball with our cash.Give 'em all three strokes with the cat o nine tails,let's hear them moan and send their wails across the land so others of this thieving band may listen and take heed.
I'm sick of being bled bone dry so they can feed,I need to take a stand and start an anti weevil band but that takes cash and dash it all,it's all being counted down in county hall.
I have counted many lucky stars while laid out on the floors in several bars and then have counted several more when making it out of the door into those spaces where I know the sad and lonely people go
but I'm not one of them thank God,I've always been a little odd like that,the flat sound and Elliot knew it too,the wasteland of the tasteless,few will guess how I digress and each day more becomes the mess I make,this jiggery pokery keeps on poking me as if I could be anything other than the skullduggery I partake in.
I have spun my sin into this shawl I wear and call to some greater being to help me bear the shame but it seems like 'fuck off' is my name I hear it often cited by the counting men who couldn't count the Viscounts in a biscuit barrel,
and so I do a barrel roll and bowl along my merry way which I do quite nicely every day and if tomorrow is another day
when do we start the war?
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
A desire , a crave we look among it as if a dream and till this day I ask myself why?
What drives this desperation towards such an simple thing, what leads to the hunger and deficiency to what it may bring .
What is this prodigious desire that even the rich cannot even admire.
What is this delectable delight, that makes the eyes of those who seek it shine like stars in the night ?
What is this mending enchantment, that cannot even be attained by the most powerful commandment?
I ask you now do you possess this heavenly thing? If you say no I will tell you it’s nothing but a broken string?
You desire but it is there , you crave it as you pull on your hair.
It is a small fire, a burning splint getting smaller it becomes a hidden glint.
You have the ability to make it shine, all you need is a little wine.
You have the ability to seek it through, with the love and kindness that comes from you .
Beneath the confusion outside, there goes on a battle between two wolves inside a seclusion of your brain but the inclusion of your heart.
Wolf evil, he is Anger, jealousy ,greed, resentment, lies and ego he feeds on your weakening fire like a weevil he feeds on your desire.
Wolf good, he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility and kindness . he is weak at times but he has the ability to create inside you a beautiful thoughts that ring like chimes.
Do you wonder which will be defeated and how this battle will sunder?
Like happiness it is simple. The one you feed is the one that grows.
So wonder, think, which wolf inside you do you feed the most.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
Corporations control the people
Now it’s turned violent and gotten evil
They’ve akin to the boll weevil
Destroying lives of common people
The rich direct the politics
With their lies and ***** tricks
Then add sound bites into the mix
And it confuses average hicks
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
A Congresswoman went to town
Only to have been shot down
The bullet casings on the grown
Suggests he fired round after round
Now that’s no way to disagree
Or show his anger as the case may be
See what it is he didn’t see
He’s been manipulated like you and me
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
It’s a time of sadness and remorse
For the demise of civil discourse
At the bidding of the boss
We now holler until we’re hoarse
Are you beginning to get the picture
They’ve become a permanent fixture
Add politics into the mixture
And their bromide is no elixir
For the things that clearly ail
Their prescription is made to fail
See the argument has turned stale
Cos all they do is to assail
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
What are the lies
lying behind the shades
of your ever deceiving eyes
The now famous boil weevil
caused all manor
of Southern White upheaval
The Seven Bark road
weaves over Double Oak Mountain
collecting heat and evening toads
Smoke from the forest fire
gives the lisping sunset
colors that surely inspire
Your August embrace
and February kiss present
a hot and cold emotional case
And the motions made
over the days that come
leave life lower than grave
The summer's green pumpkins
lay squash in fields of dream
dangling in winter's winds .
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
A race against the dust and the soaking fabric.
Sprinting into a storm of scattered perfect spheres.
Split the grain and burn the cells to make the cut.
Tell the ones responsible to blame it on the weather.
Water the plants as they dissolve to ethane.
Crumpled mangled heap of old dried up Ohio.
Memories of pie that turned to rage
Pie rage tastes so delicious in the spring.
Jars can contain little love but lots of herbs
The right elephant will find the carousel
When the day of dust comes rabbits see.
The shrews and field mice will finally breathe.
Love amongst rodents will never evaporate
The sky can’t contain the weight of solitude
The sky is much lonelier than the sun
Tell the post office about the new light
They can spread the word to the right people
That is if you tell the right man.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
Corporations control the people
Now it’s turned violent and gotten evil
They're just like the boll weevil
Destroying lives of common people
The rich direct the politics
With constant lies and ***** tricks
Then add sound bites into the mix
And it confuses average hicks
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
A Congresswoman went to town
Only to have been shot down
The bullet casings found on the grown
Suggests he fired round after round
Now that’s no way to disagree
Or show anger as the case may be
See what it is that he didn’t see
He’s was manipulated like you and me
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
Are you beginning to get the picture
They’ve become a permanent fixture
Add politics into the mixture
And their bromide is no elixir
For the things that clearly ail
Their prescription is made to fail
Because the argument has turned stale
And all of them should go to jail
First the rhetoric then the violence
Can we have a moment of silence
From hateful words and the alliance
Of wing-nuts urging defiance
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
"It's quite a pretty hell,
quite a pretty hell,"
said the wilting woman
to her plastic window self,
a half-tint fetch, etched
in the eye of the weevil
threading the black dough
of the crosstown bus route.
The nightclubbers behind her
exchange glances and hold hands
as she begins to hum to herself,
but the unvarnished melody
lodges in an angle of odd brain
& soon I'm humming it too
as I step into 18th Street's maw,
already bristling neon sweet
with milkmaid dress hems
threshing ruptured doorsteps -
turning up my street I catch
a last sight of the shushed bus husk
crawling away northwards
with only a scratching hum inside
for its heartbeat, and a face lost
in the catacomb of its reflection.
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 11:07 PM UTC
From Publius to Marcus
Marcus, I owe you an apology:
I named you Antinous to Gaius’s Hadrian,
Not in jest, but with a curse to the gods,
Wishing ruin on your treacherous shade.
...
This farm, this land, was my charge
Long before you donned your Janus mask,
Feigning peace while sowing strife,
A weevil gnawing at the heart of my grain.
...
You bring chaos to these fields,
A blight worse than drought or rot,
Corrupting Gaius with your impious charm,
His fields now fallow under your shadow.
...
While I toil, bone-weary, in the searing heat,
Tending your fields and mine,
Sweat and soil my offering to kin and gods,
You claim the harvest I’ve sown.
...
My altars brim with piety,
The Capitoline triad blesses my soul and soil,
Yet you, sweet Antinous, reap my plenty,
Lazing in the shade of my labor’s fruit.
...
No more. I sever ties with you and this land.
Keep these fields—a fitting pyre for your folly.
I forge you a parting gift: a wreath of thorns,
Culled from the ruin you’ve wrought.
...
Woe to your plow, doomed to rust,
While I seek new fields to tend.
My seeds will bloom under noonday sun,
Your name forgotten, your shadow undone.
Signed, PERTINAX
Jun 17, 2024
Jun 17, 2024 at 11:57 PM UTC
Why is it that I have the most wonderful man in the world, but I cannot love him.
He is tender, gentle and kind.
He is like a paper boat.
Waterlogged and sodden.
There is no charge.
No charge for anything at all.
He's a poppet.
A pedantic one
He's set in his ways.
No exhilarating vibrancy.
Like a scratched old record.
Outdated.
Decent.
Loving.
Caring.
Boring as a weevil.
Playing in my brain.
He's hellishly different.
What do I want?
To go to sleep perhaps.
So bored.
(C) LIVVI
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
Our Step-father
who art a felon
hollowed is Thy name.
Thy Kingdom's done,
Thy will is none,
on Earth, which is Heaven.
Take us this day our daily head
and punish our desires,
as we punish those who desire ahead us.
Let us rot in condemnation
as we quiver of the weevil.
For blind is the wisdom,
that flowers from your story,
for ever and ever.
Again.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
i pull up a chair to myself and stare at myself....
i eat the Rhine of a melon of rivers... reflecting and dissolving
into my constituent arts.
i fumble and regain.
then the bubbles burst like pixies
on a stone salt cake. but I dream again. and the pipes of twilight
flock to my eardrums, gutting the writhing dark -
and singing the Potomac
of a sun -
I Thought.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
They came again. Filled with lust for violence
as they charged towards me in their evil
pursuit to hurt me. I though it then hence
though I was blind as a sand weevil
as there was no light in which to see in,
still I would dare to put this plan to writ
as the newly made dagger engaged sin
reflecting their nature back at them. Slit
is what I could describe was happening
as the tool felt as though it pierced their bone
through the flesh and out again. My chagrin;
fighting the same way they are, I have known
that were I to slay the monster in here,
I must become them. And that... is my fear.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC