The wolf and the dog agree about the goat -- which together they eat.
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Lone Wolf
I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fat Dogs Wear Well Fed Collars
the wolf cannot wear your collar
the wolf cannot eat your slave bread
the wolf feels a free wind on free face
the wolf hears all sounds freedom fed
the wolf must hunt for its piece of meat
the wolf hunts mountains where free rivers meet
the wolf will starve to death as lean winter creeps
the wolf paints landscapes scenes as death inward seeps
the wolf licks not the beast man’s hand wolf never weeps
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Banished Wolf
Banished wolf chased off from her home
Banished wolf left with no place to roam
Banished wolf lies in the cold rain
Banished wolf tries to ease her pain
Banished wolf begins to cry
Banished wolf wants to die
Banished wolf tries to stop her tears
Banished wolf drowns in her fears
Banished wolf felt her world grow black
As her lover cried death just before the attack
Banished wolf licks her wounds
While her whole world is falling to ruins
Banished wolf cleans her cut
And as she does so her pain ease somewhat
Banished wolf wears her scars
Through a life full of years instead of hours
Banished wolf let the past be the past
Banished wolf left the gloom that it cast
Banished wolf lives her life today
And she would not have it anyother way
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Holiday meals
Here's a poem that will get your goat
But my goat ate my poem.
I'll get him for that
He ate all that i wrote.
I wrote such wounderous words
And all he does is burp
It's absurd.
Now all I can do
Is not let him get my goat
The words that I wrote
Were hastey and few
The goat that I had made such a great stew.
What lurks beneath civility
Is there an animal
that hides in every heart
and waits for a chance
to materialise?
Is homo homini lupus
etched into every soul
and does every human
wait for an opportunity,
to hunt and destroy
and to gain
from its fellow man.
Is this the way
until the One appears,
who will breake the spears
and dwell in hearts?
[References=>Homo homini Iupus=> Man is a Wolf to Man=> men prey upon other men. 'The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them' (Isaiah 11: 6) . ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Were Lookinf For The Whales
(mags/pal waaktaar)
Night I left the city,
I dreamt of a wolf...
He came from where the winds are cold
And truth is seen through keyholes
...strange longins never sleep
Now hes come where no hearts beat
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry
You can start, but you cannot stop
You give in, but you cant give up
You can tell all your desperate jokes
To a world that puts
Love on hold
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry now
...the sunken-in eyes
And the pain in his cries
A shape in the dark...
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry now
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cry Wolf
(mags/pal waaktaar)
Night I left the city,
I dreamt of a wolf...
He came from where the winds are cold
And truth is seen through keyholes
...strange longins never sleep
Now hes come where no hearts beat
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry
You can start, but you cannot stop
You give in, but you cant give up
You can tell all your desperate jokes
To a world that puts
Love on hold
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry now
...the sunken-in eyes
And the pain in his cries
A shape in the dark...
Cry wolf
Time to worry
Cry wolf
Time to worry now
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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The Wolf
You were born to privilege
Licking on a silver spoon
Think you gotta buy all your friends
Just so you can tear up the room
Your kind is a dime a dozen
I've seen it all before
A parasite in a good disguise
Just another wolf at the door
The wolf
Prowling in the nighttime
The wolf
Howling in the moonshine
The wolf
Gives you what you want but he ain't no friend of mine
You lay it on oh
song performed by by Heart from Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Werewolf
The german
Has “wer”
Say “vir” for virility
“wer” meaning man
“wulf” meaning wolf
a vir-wolf
a man-wolf
a man taking the shape of a wolf
retaining his virility, his man-ness
his madness
about his prey,
the brute that wears
my form and face
the werewolf
of my race
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Feeding The Wolf
there is this fight
between the wolf and
the sheep inside the
hearts of every man
there is this man who
feeds the wolf everyday
and so inside him the
wolf wins, and then
one night the wolf
who is always hungry ate
the weak sheep and then
finally the man.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goat
Lots of goat for dinner
Is all had on a skewer,
My kingdom has survived,
The lids of your eyes
Are lifted and they see
The meat of the kings
In consumption.
Force the goat to be eaten
By converting the king
To your crevice.
Food has might,
Food is the whim of our land.
We ghosts are relaxed tonight,
From the worry of the horror,
Frightened again by the double,
Load the goat into the pot and eat.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The True Encounter
"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart
At every sheep it spied,
And roused the countryside.
"Wolf! Wolf!"—and up would start
Good neighbours, bringing spade
And pitchfork to my aid.
At length my cry was known:
Therein lay my release.
I met the wolf alone
And was devoured in peace.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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You Complain About The System
i agree there are so many things wrong about the system
i agree when you complain about it
how it smells like a carcass of a stolen goat slaughtered in the field
how it executes without any question at all
the dragging of due process in the streets of nowhere
you have no name for it. it does not deserve any christian name
at all. The priests are too compromisings anyhow. Blessing it.
and pouring it some of its holy drops.
the lords are too many for its slaves.
there will be nothing left for your children who will be born tomorrow.
you complain with your clenched fists. Locked jaws.
you have unlearned tears. You are drawing anger
in the walls with your blood and sweat.
look at you? with all your doubts, and anger and fears
and curses
you are like a house burning
and they are not calling any fireman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What for? If only the goat can tell.
O! The silly goat could have been a dove
White and meek
Soundless in the journey to air
Dove to another dove
Satisfied from among its likes
The horns could have been feathers
In a bird’s body
Another completing dove could have waited
Only if the silly goat knew
The transfiguration of its feet to claw
Its whiskers to beak
The goat’s life would have been complete
And fulfilled
But this the silly goat will never know
& learn and untie
& solve the crazy knot
That it has never untangled
Never has he learned from all the ages
Of his grass life
The seeds that the dove peck
And keep on its throat down to its guts
Its tummy
The goat stays
In the open field
Preoccupied with grass
And grass alone
Abiding by the rules of his master
Imprisoned in its cage
To the rules of their games
Suffering
But never understands the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Cried Wolf
You cried wolf once too often
You cried wolf, you made me run
You cried wolf, I caught you bluffing
Youll cry wolf but Ill be gone
If you need someone to love
You only had to ask
Instead you pulled a false alarm
Baby, just for a laugh
You can have your little joke
But when they see what you done
You will holler for assistance and nobody will come
You can threaten me forever
With the same old song
But you can toy with my emotions
Baby, only so long
Because the very next time
I see you talk through your hat
You will get no more attention, I can promise you that
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
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The more the billy goat stinks, the more the nanny goat loves him.
The blossom only once
A woman gets her peak
when she is explored with fervour,
as if she was under a beast.
A man gets his peak
when he explores her with ardour,
as if she was a goat to a wolf..
We have mortgaged our peak
to the monogamous, mono-gyandri system.
Hence, all nights are dull other than
the first night to each couple.
09.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Do not try to cook the goat's young in the goat's milk.