Young pigs grunt as old swine grunted before them.
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Young pigs grunt as old pigs grunted before them.
Young pigs grunt as as old pigs grunted before them.
In a nation ruled by swine, all pigs are upward mobile.
quote by Hunter S. Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Filled With Sickness
The demons went into the pigs,
And now, you are eating swine's flesh! !
Which is filled with sickness;
But, one day you will understand my message.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The General
‘Good-morning; good-morning!’ the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of ’em dead,
And we’re cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
‘He’s a cheery old card,’ grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.
. . . .
But he did for them both by his plan of attack.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The First Poem by The First Poet
i'm intrigued by the ur-poem
by allan j saywell
entitled grunt
which is
the first poem
by the first poet:
grunt
how do we know he was a poet
saywell he say so
but think about how
it happened
one day Grunt
for that was his name
listened
to himself saying grunt
and thought
that's quite a nice sound
if I say it carefully
it's got a sorta music to it
so he spent the rest of the day
giving it a swing
and a ring
and a dingadingding
his First Lady
(Laura)
liked it and smiled
and said
Grunty dear
although as a man
you're gorilla-dust and
although you still walk like a bush
that's music to my big ears
poets sure know
how to please a girl
and she gave him a big wet lippy kiss
the rest is pre-history
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Mad The Swine (b-side Of Headlong)
I've been there before
A long time ago
But this time I wear no sandals
Ages past I gave all you people
Food and water
Three feet tall, so very small
I'm no trouble
I bring thunder, lightening
Sun and the rain
For all the people in the land
A message of love
I bring you from above
All you children gather around
Come join your hands and sing along
They call me mad the swine
I guess I'm mad the swine
I've come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
I walk upon the water
Just as before
I help the meek and the mild
The believers and the blind
And all the creatures great and small
Let me take you to the river
Without a fall
Then one day you'll realise
You're all the same within his eyes
That's all I've got to say
Just like before
They call me mad the swine
Mad the swine
Come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
All you people around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Don't ever fail me
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
I've come to save you
Save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
All you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Hands and praise the lord
Praise the lord
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mad The Swine
Words and music by freddie mercury
Been here before a long time ago
But this time I wear no sandals
Ages past I gave all you people
Food and water
Three feet tall so very small Im no trouble
I bring thunder lightning sun and the rain
For all the people in the land
A message of love
I bring you from up above
All good children gather around
Come join your hands and sing along
They call me mad the swine
I guess Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
I woke up on the water just as before
Ill help the meek and the mild and believers and the blind
And all the creatures great and small
Let me take you to the river without a ford
Oh and then one day you realise
Youre all the same weve been in life
All Ive come to say just like before
They call me mad the swine
Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Ooh
Oh now
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Dont ever fail me
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Oh now
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Hands and praise the lord
Praise the lord
Ill get down on my knees and praise the lord
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pigs and the Charcoal-burner
The old Pig said to the little pigs,
'In the forest is truffles and mast,
Follow me then, all ye little pigs,
Follow me fast!'
The Charcoal-burner sat in the shade
With his chin oil his thumb,
And saw the big Pig and the little pigs
Chuffling come.
He watched 'neath a green and giant bough,
And the pigs in the ground
Made a wonderful grisling and gruzzling
And greedy sound.
And when, full-fed, they were gone, and Night
Walked her starry ways,
He stared with his cheeks in his hands
At his sullen blaze.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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I shall not ever return to you, my pigs, because, at worst, to die valorously is better than to sleep out one's youth in the sun. A man has but one life. It is his all. Therefore I now depart from you, my
pigs, to win me a fine wife and much wealth and leisure wherein to discharge my geas. And when my geas is lifted I shall not come back to you, my pigs, but I shall travel everywhither, and into the last limits of earth, so that I may see the ends of this world and may judge them while my life endures. For after that, they say, I judge not, but am judged: and a man whose life has gone out of him, my pigs, is not even good bacon.
quote by James Branch Cabell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song For Ishtar
The moon is a sow
and grunts in my throat
Her great shining shines through me
so the mud of my hollow gleams
and breaks in silver bubbles
She is a sow
and I a pig and a poet
When she opens her white
lips to devour me I bite back
and laughter rocks the moon
In the black of desire
we rock and grunt, grunt and
shine
poem by Denise Levertov
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Into The Country Of The Gadarenes
Arthritic fingers of the olive trees
Accuse the sun of ancient injuries.
The shallows harden to an ochre crust
While bony cattle huddle in the dust.
The wretched one who tears his flesh resumes
His bellowing from somewhere in the tombs.
The sky assumes a tyrant's glare. Despite
Our lust for rain, we fear the eerie night.
Dogs whimper softly. An unearthly dawn
Ignites some whispers that the dead will yawn.
We spot a boat; pigs and children squeal.
We bicker over whether it is real.
A striking figure stands beside the sail.
His patchwork crew appears a little pale.
A crowd surrounds him as he steps ashore
But no one fears his coming anymore.
With all the noise, I cannot be exact
About what happened when the wretch attacked.
The visitor, from what my friends could tell,
Dazed his attacker with some kind of spell.
After berating unseen demons, he
Commanded them to set their hostage free.
We trembled as he spoke. He made a sign
And charged the demons to inhabit swine.
Immediately nearby pigs began
To froth and moan; the wretch became a man.
The pigs escaped; no one could make them stop.
The swineherds muttered, but then let it drop.
poem by A.M. Juster
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I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Pig Story of the Tweed
“Hands off, old man!” the young man cried—
They stood beside the Tweed,
Where still the name of Murder Creek
Records some bloody deed.
The old man seized the hapless youth,
With frantic grasp and rough,
By what is popularly called
(But vulgarly) the scruff;
And shouted as he twirled him round,
And shook him to and fro,
“Was them consignments pigs? . . Great Scott!
Was them things pigs or no?”
Wild-eyed and gaunt, and grim he stood,
Beneath the scorching noon,—
Cantharides P. Roebuck, late
Of the steamboat Arakoon.
He was an ancient mariner,
A Yankee skipper he,
Whom winds of adverse destiny
Had blown across the sea;—
Whom hither still had Fate pursued,
And served with many a trick,
Till now he roamed the Tweed a one-
Idea'd lunatic;—
Whom all men shunned, for whosoe'er
Upon his beat might chance,
Was bound to hear his tale in each
Minutest circumstance.
A tale that haunted such as heard,
Nor left them night or day;
A torturing enigma, too,
That turned their wits astray;—
For ofttimes they, like him who told,
Would vaguely wandering go,
And cry, “Was them consignments pigs?
Was them things pigs or no?”
“Hands off!” again the young man cried.
“It's this way, boss, you see,
We've come a stretch of thirty mile,
Her uncle, her, an' me.
“You see it's this way. Parson comes
Our road but once a year—
We lives at Yougerbungaree,
Just thirty mile from here;—
“At sundown yesterday I spied
The parson ridin' past;
I runs to Sue's, an' ‘Sue,’ says I,
‘Our chance is come at last!’
“This morning to his camp we goes,
Us three, an' mother, four;
‘Splice us,’ says we, but parson, he
Puts in his blessed oar.
“ ‘Fill up this form,’ says he. We fills.
‘Hullo!’ he cries, ‘my dear!
Father alive? You under age?
Me marry ye! No fear.’
“(Don't throttle, boss!)—Says parson then;
‘Go, seek a magistrate;
Get his consent; an’ hurry back;
I leave to-night at eight.'
“So off we starts, ten mile an hour—
(For heav'n's sake let me speak!)
You see, it's this way, boss; they've gone
To square it with the beak.
“I'm only hangin' round. I fixed
To meet them there at one;
An' if I fail, my pretty Sue
Will think I've cut an' run.”—
“Was them things pigs?”—“Oh drat the pigs!
It's this way, boss,—we're late.
Think, thirty mile! the mokes dead beat!
An' parson off at eight!”
'Twas all in vain; and when at length,
Exhausted, limp, and pale,
He gave reluctant ear, 'twas thus
The skipper told his tale.
“I took the things on board as pigs,
As pigs I signed for them;
I passed an entry on them—pigs!
Pigs, sar, from starn to stem.
“Wal, wal; I little guessed that Fate
Would play it down so low.
Was them things pigs, d'ye hear! . . But how
The [Hades] should you know!
“It was the steamboat Arakoon,
A craft of coasting fame;
Cantharides P. Roebuck, sar,
Was skipper of the same.
“The iserlated cusses here
Was runnin' all to seed
When first the steamboat Arakoon
Come tradin' to the Tweed.
“Pigs, pigs, all sprung (mark that) from two,
They fetched them by the score,
An' nary strain had crossed the breed
For twenty year an' more.
“I cleaned the settlement of pigs,
Upp'd steam an' tore for town,
Nor guessed that them all-fired galoots
Had been and done me brown.
“An' sech a voyage! grunt and squeak!
(Pard, never load with swine.)
Whate'er the durned abortions wur,
The grunt was genu-ine.
“A hundred thousand times I swore
To drown them in the sea;
But, lord, they had an idgiot look
That fairly gravelled me.
“We made the port. Upon the wharf
A Brisbane butcher sot,
An' through the roarin' of the steam,
He hollered, ‘What ye got?’
“ ‘Got pigs,’ sez I, ‘like bullocks, sar!’
Cries butcher, ‘I'm your man,’
An' clewin' up his apron, slick
Along the plank he ran.”—
(But here the youth renewed his plaint;
“Have mercy on me mate!
It's thirty miles! the mokes dead beat!
An' parson leaves at eight!”)
“He eyed the brutes,” the tale flowed on,
“An' tossed his cussèd head;
An' turnin' on his heel, sez he,
‘I thought 'twas pigs you said.’
“ ‘An' ain't them pigs?’—but he was gone.
Wal, though I biled at this,
I tried my level best to see
The p'ints he took amiss.
“But 'cep' a kinder cur'ous smile
That squintin' didn't mend,
An' an appealin' way they had
Of settin' up on end,—
“An' cept' about the snout a tech
Of Native Porkypine,
I couldn't see no reason why
That parcel wasn't swine.
“Wal, stranger, just as I had cussed
My liver into tune,
Another bloomin' butcher stepped
On board the Arakoon.”
(But here, at sound of distant hoofs,
The captive writhed anew;
“That's them!” he cried, “They've given me up!
Oh curse your pigs and you!”)
“No, pard—it ain't no use to squirm.
Whar was I? le'mme see.
Another butcher jumps aboard;
‘Good marnin', sar,’ sez he.
“Got any p—?' But here he stuck.
The critturs caught his eye.
Sakes! how he stared as one by one
The things meandered by.
“At length sez he, astoopin' down,
The better to survey,
‘I wonder now what day o’ the week
The Lord created they!
“ ‘What name, mate?’ ‘Pigs, sar, PIGS!’ I yelled,
‘As prime as ever growed!
D'ye know pigs when you see them, sar?’
‘Oh, pigs,’ sez he, ‘be blowed.’
“Pard, should you come across him, say
That I apologize;
For, oh! I banged that butcher's head
Agin the smokestack guys!
“I sought an old an' trusted friend,
A butcher in the town;
I struck his diggin's, seized him, hailed
A shay, and yanked him down.
“I carried him aboard—he was
A heavy man and slow—
‘Now on your naked oath,’ sez I,
‘Air them things pigs or no?’
“He made no sign, he made no sound,
But something in his eye,
As plain as signal lights, declared
The contract was awry.
“At last sez he, consid'rin' like,
An' strokin' down his jaws,
‘Cantharides P., it seems to me
Them pettitoes is claws!’
“ ‘Great Neptune!’—that was all I said,
And fell down in a swoon,
A broken wreck, upon the deck
Of the steamboat Arakoon.
“But twurn't Finis yet, old hoss,
For at the smell of gin
Cantharides P. Roebuck's soul
Jumped back into his skin.
“ ‘Go, fetch me a zew-ologist!’
I thundered as I rose.
‘Let's see what larnèd science makes
Of them 'ere pettitoes!
“ ‘Who knows of one?’—The fireman's son
Sez, ‘Captain, if you please,
If what you mean stuffs beastises,
I'll fetch you wan o' these.’
“ ‘Go, bub!’ I cried. ‘Make tracks to onst,
An' ketch him out or in!—
This butcherin' conspiracy
Is just a trifle thin.’
“Wal, pard, the great man came. I slipped
A sov'rin in his hand,
Which, though he 'peared almighty skeered,
He seemed to understand.
“Sez I then, as he stooped an' spread
His hands upon his knees,
‘Illustrious zew-ologist,
What articles air these?’
“A wild surprise lit up his eyes
As through his specs he blinked,—
‘Dear me,’ sez he, ‘I always thought
That griffins wur extinct!’
* * * * *
“From that to this is blank—all blank;
But if 'tis true they say,
I ordered round the vessel's head,
An' ran her down the Bay.
“An' there, in spite of mate an' crew,
An' cook an' fireman's son,
I slung the critturs overboard,
An' drowned them every one.
“An' now beside this blessèd Tweed
I wander day an' night,
An' vainly ask of airth an' heaven
To read the riddle right.
“I ask the sea, I ask the skies,
I ask it high an' low,—
Was them 'ere shipments pigs? . . Great Scott!
Was them things pigs or no?”
* * * * *
That night at Yougerbungaree,
The house clock striking ten,
Into a maiden's presence burst
The most distraught of men.
“Oh, Ned, he's gone!” the maiden wailed.
“How could you treat me so?”—
For all reply there came the cry,
“Was them things pigs or no?”
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Circe's Power
I never turned anyone into a pig.
Some people are pigs; I make them
Look like pigs.
I'm sick of your world
That lets the outside disguise the inside. Your men weren't bad men;
Undisciplined life
Did that to them. As pigs,
Under the care of
Me and my ladies, they
Sweetened right up.
Then I reversed the spell, showing you my goodness
As well as my power. I saw
We could be happy here,
As men and women are
When their needs are simple. In the same breath,
I foresaw your departure,
Your men with my help braving
The crying and pounding sea. You think
A few tears upset me? My friend,
Every sorceress is
A pragmatist at heart; nobody sees essence who can't
Face limitation. If I wanted only to hold you
I could hold you prisoner.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Love and Slaughter
Sheep are by a goat while
cattle are like swine, prodded, yet
cattle go by hammer while
swine are by the hind leg hung
then swung about to spigot.
Quicker, infinitely cleaner, is
the hacksaw of sweet Susan's laughter.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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The was a Young Lady of Bute,
Who played on a silver-gilt flute;
She played several jigs,
To her uncle's white pigs,
That amusing Young Lady of Bute.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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It is fine, let us learn from swine
It is fine
Let us learn from swine
The flu that has inflicted millions nine
And made them confine
Suffering in pain
With a totally new fatal design
Defying all understanding developed to define
An infection and its ways malign
And with the ability to make medicines resign
Forcing us to redesign
Our medical approach and tune-fine
It is fine
Let us learn from swine
What we have not learnt from the virus
That made our immune system porous
And created a situation disastrous
More than three decades of research rigorous
With no solution really vigorous
To put an end to that problem stupendous
It is fine
Let us learn from swine
What we failed to learn
From tsunami that raised concern
And killed millions to earn
A notorious name all over, but we failed to discern
The cause of this killer govern
Tsunami was only a word to learn
From a dictionary till then, but when we saw its thorn
We came to know how far we were torn
It is fine
Let us learn from swine
That all the above only showcase
The greedy ways
Of the human race
In the name of developmental phase
With no regard for nature’s grace
To see that every one has
What all his needs surface
It is fine
Let us learn from swine
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Signs Of Winter
The cat runs races with her tail. The dog
Leaps oer the orchard hedge and knarls the grass.
The swine run round and grunt and play with straw,
Snatching out hasty mouthfuls from the stack.
Sudden upon the elmtree tops the crow
Unceremonious visit pays and croaks,
Then swops away. From mossy barn the owl
Bobs hasty out--wheels round and, scared as soon,
As hastily retires. The ducks grow wild
And from the muddy pond fly up and wheel
A circle round the village and soon, tired,
Plunge in the pond again. The maids in haste
Snatch from the orchard hedge the mizzled clothes
And laughing hurry in to keep them dry.
poem by John Clare
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