He that never eats flesh thinks harigals a feast.
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The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Emotional Food Chain
Anger eats Balanced
Balanced eats Confusion
Confusion eats Delight
Delight eats Exasperation
Exasperation eats Forgiveness
Forgiveness eats Grief
Grief eats Humor
Humor eats Isolation
Isolation eats Joy
Joy eats Knottiness
Knottiness eats Love
Love eats Moodiness
Moodiness eats Nicety
Nicety eats Outrage
Outrage eats Peace
Peace eats Quick-temperament
Quick-temperament eats Righteousness
Righteousness eats Stupidity
Stupidity eats Trust
Trust eats Unhappiness
Unhappiness eats Vitality
Vitality eats Weariness
Weariness eats X-citement
X-citement eats Yawn
Yawn eats Zest
Zest eats Anger
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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The fox thinks everybody eats poultry like himself.
Krishna's Meal
Kanha eats in Yasoda's lap.
some he eats, some he drops,
as the ladies of Nandgaon watch,
some he eats and some he puts
in Nanda's mouth,
this joy is beyound recount.
some he eats, some gives to gopas,
butter in his hands, curd in doniyas.
The joy of Yasoda
the three worlds cannot account.
the meal is over, Kanha washes,
for Sur the left-overs count.
poem by Sant Surdas
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What is it?
What is it that looks like an ant?
Walks like an ant, falls in line like an ant,
Smells like an ant, eats like an ant,
Crawls like an ant, and thinks like an ant.
Of course, nothing but
An ant
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rust eats iron
Rust eats iron.
Separation from wife
eats husband
Contempt by kith and kins
And serving evil master
Eats body by burning silently
Corroding heart and soul body
from within.
Rust eats iron.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Johndonkey
Thus the poor ass whose appetite has ne'er
Known than the thistle any sweeter fare
Thinks all the world eats thistles. Thus the clown,
The wit and Mentor of the country town,
Grins through the collar of a horse and thinks
Others for pleasure do as he for drinks,
Though secretly, because unwilling still
In public to attest their lack of skill.
Each dunce whose life and mind all follies mar
Believes as he is all men living are
His vices theirs, their understandings his;
Naught that he knows not, all he fancies, _is_.
How odd that any mind such stuff should boast!
How natural to write it in the _Post_!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Copy Cat
Do you like cats?
Like cat in the hat?
Not just any old cat,
That scratches hats
Not normal ones,
That eats buns
This one writes
Thinks it always has rights
This one doesn't watch bats
What i'm talkin' about....... is a Copy Cat.
Charlene-n-Booker 4ever
And the old men, supervising grown grandsons, nephews,
any man a boy given this chance of making
a new sidewalk outside the apartment building where
some of them live, three old men and their wives,
the aging unmarrying children, and the child
who is a cousin, whose mother has sent her here
because she doesn't know what to do with her,
she's out of control, she wants to be a gangsta, and
the old folks talk to her as if she minds them
and already has that respect for their years her mother
finally grew into. The girl who does not look
like them eats and eats and sleeps late, sneaks away
when they are busy, and tonight will write herself
all over the sidewalk while it is still wet but
the old have gone inside, and the grown gone home,
and her mother who is somewhere overseas thinks of
writing her that long long letter, but decides not to.
poem by Forrest Hamer
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An English Professor's dog writes a poem in its kennel
I don't know English much
Except few Yiddish,
My educated Master eats all the flesh
And throw me the bones.
* To Alison & Jerry
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Your Flesh Is So Nice
(j.buckley)
I want to tell you a story
About a little cutey
She's ass-slappin' pretty
And voluptous fingers
Wanna let her lick me
Stick the thick of my pussy
From across the street
She looks good enough to eat me
Kitty! your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so nice
Let me take a bite
Your flesh is so nice.
Oh, i take off my belt
Oh, i whip the staircase
(whip the staircase)
Kill all the men
Everything's dead to them
You're the only one i follow
Come on and let me give you that "o".
Your flesh is so nice
I wanna take you twice
Your flesh is so nice
Oooo your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so nice
Wanna take a bite
Your flesh is so nice
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Your flesh is so
Nice
(repeat)
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blower
Like a killer in the state
Like a rat in a maze
Living in a city of freak
Lives on children in the snow
It's too late you can't go
Smashes on with turning teeth
Run like blower
Eats like a grinder
The wheels of chains
Roles and roles again
It was marching like a prowler
Sacrifice the raw flesh
You are nice, you are cash
Here come the flesh eater
Chatterning sound of iron
You smell the smoke of carbone
Tell me if it's near
I'm in the snow
I panic, I can't go
I see the yellow blades of danger
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden but not forgotten.
My pain from you is hidden.
But the pain you cuased me is not forgotten.
I hide the scars of what you did.
Rape and sexual abuse.
But I don't forget what you did.
It eats a way at me like the decay eats the flesh.
I hate you all you bastards are evil.
My pain is hidden but never forgotten.
I will get you all one by one.
One by one you will all pay.
You rotten peice of scum.
Your dirtier than the bottom of my shoe.
You bastards will all get whats coming to you.
One thing is for sure.
My pain is hidden but be sure its not forgotten.
And I'll pay you all back.
Your all get whats coming to you.
You'll get your just deserts.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Is He Fine?
he must be fine today
with his poems in array
each end rhyming
to nature's chiming
he shows his big grin
like a big pumpkin
he struts on the street
on a loud drumbeat
he eats his breakfast
like he's on a feast
he writes his journal
as the banal of bengal
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One must not forget that recovery is brought about not by the physician, but by the sick man himself. He heals himself, by his own power, exactly as he walks by means of his own power, or eats, or thinks, breathes or sleeps.
quote by Georg Groddeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken
You can close your eyes
And see a picture perfect life
Inside of your mind
Dreaming only of the days ahead
Wanted and wished for more than now
Or the days behind
You waste your time
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
You can never think
You cant even stop yourself
Before the words have been spoken
And youve already said
You would give everything
And something for nothing
Everybody thinks youre joking
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
You want to be the one
Made over be your own
Before and after
And a supermarket
Beauty in a bottle queen
Wholl one day grace a check-out counter
Magazine front cover
Though the fine print reads
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Lets it be broken
Broken
Broken
When your life is never what you wanted
Not even halfway normal
Just tarnished and soiled
When in your reach
A framed and frozen moment
So far from perfection
Not truth or transcendence
Will set you free
Still you dont believe
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
The picture makes a promise
The flesh lets it be broken
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why do you think?
Why do you think?
Other should think the way you think
Can you think the way they think?
Everybody thinks’
His way is the right way to think
Respect what people think
The way they think
You will find people
Respecting what and how you think
Everybody has the right to think
The way he thinks’ and what he thinks’
One can only tell what he thinks’
If they like it
They will approve what you think
No regrets, no hard feelings
Nobody loses, Nobody wins
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Meditation is not for him who eats too much, nor for him who eats not at all not for him who is over much addicted to sleep, nor for him who is always awake.
It eats you up. It eats you up. And you have to - I had a lot of help. I had a lot of therapy. And I was able to - because it was hard, you know, to - you can't just lay it on friends and children.
quote by Lynn Redgrave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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