Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung.
quote by Heraclitus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corpses In The Woods
A dung heap of rotting corpses:
Glazed eyes, bloodshot,
Brains split, guts spewed out
The air poisoned by the stink of corpses
A single awful cry of madness.
Oh, women in France,
Women of Germany
Regard your menfolk!
They fumble with torn hands
For the swollen bodies of their enemies,
Gestures, stiff in death, become the touch of brotherhood,
Yes, they embrace each other,
Oh, horrible embrace!
I see and see and am struck dumb
Am I a beast, a murderous dog?
Men violated
Murdered.
poem by Ernst Toller
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The Great Man Who Ate Cow Dung All His Life (secretly)
everyday
he feeds himself
with cow dung
but this is done
discreetly
for who in this
normal world
would like
to satisfy
himself with
dung
who in this
society would
love a man
who eats and
smells like
cow dung?
of course, he
feared
that soon if
society knows
he shall be
another ostracized
ostrich
electrically fenced
and monitored
and segregated
at Ward 8
for social
rehabilitation
he didn't like dung
reason and logic
so tell him well
but he couldn't resist
the smell of dung
even if it is kilometers
away
there is simply this
obsession for
cow dung
and he begins
to salivate even
for the word
dung
and for so many nights
he prayed
that his mind-set be
changed
so that he can prefer
steak
medium rare
than watery cow
dung
life has its own
idiosyncrasies for
he prefers dung
than barbecue
despite his
genius for good
food
and so
not to deprive
himself of what he
really loves
in his whole life
he eats cow dung
stores them in his
refrigerator
and eats cow dung
regularly
savoring every
fiber and enjoying
that rotten
sticky smell of
rotten grass
and leaves or
hay
how he wishes
that the shrink can
teach him to hate
dung
but this never
happened
he never referred
the matter
somehow
for fear of information
leaks
for modesty aside
he is
a great man
in his field of
endeavor
no one knows this
this is his secret
and i have known this
only about a year & a half
after he died
when i found his
black diary hidden
under the
old creaky bed
because it
smells dung
itself
in his
luxurious house
beside
a river
you know him
he is one of the greatest men
in our history
a philosopher
writer
philanthropist
scient ist
artist
sculptor
a genius
who ate cow dung
all his life
well adored by history
a hero for all humanity
the Renaissance man
as they dub him to be
the man who ate
and secretly loved cow
dung all this life
do not bother
let us keep his greatness
history is always right
do not argue
great men
revered the cow
ate cow dung
and become
famous
throughout the life
of history
their names
written in the pages of books
like sticky
piece of dung
but shits
unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When You Dump Dung
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
When you dump dung...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When a dummy does a dung dumped.
Nobody stays around but runs to hide.
To leave before the spreading of the stench comes.
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When a dummy does a dung dumped.
Nobody stays around but runs to hide.
To leave before the spreading of the stench comes.
With a finding they've been brushed aside.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As fair greits the bairn that is dung after noon, as he that is dung before noon.
Learning Zen is a phenomenon of gold and dung. Before you understand it, it's like gold; after you understand it, it's like dung.
O Living Always--Always Dying
O LIVING always--always dying!
O the burials of me, past and present!
O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever!
O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not--I am content;)
O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look
at, where I cast them!
To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Chariots Of Fire
The small dung beetles lot is a chariot of fire
For some it is a life of a slinking liar,
To get a wife he has to be tall
Fact is some are dam too small.
To get among the hen pecking lot
The big fellow has an easy choice on the spot,
After a hard day’s work rolling up the dung
He’s off home to his wife for dinner and fun.
The little chap dines alone like a single sire
Now for fun he saddles up his chariot of fire,
He rides off to the big guys love nest without any din
Sneaks past him, up to the loft for his wages of sin.
The beetle chick loves him for his gallantry and guts
Gives him love and dung biscuits in his hand she puts,
On his chariot of fire He sneaks off into the night
Silent satisfied disappears out of sight.
NB. FACT
Scientists found this behaviour of the smaller
Beetles and when dissecting them found the
Smaller beetle had bigger testes.
poem by Ken e Hall
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A Trust Thrown
Farther than trust can be thrown
Closer than a world of your own
A man had to stop to eat a meal
Before he could please the king
With a deal
Farther than trust can be thrown
Brown white and gold
Are colors not to be sewn
But if the king has to eat
And if he pleased if he will
He will temporarily patch a deal
This for that
Gold can be sold for this
And a soul can be thrown for that
A home can be built right here
Only here is not a fact
Put your arms up and tell'em
Put your arms up
We ate with you yesterday
But you should have known not
To trust us
Father than we can be thrown
poem by Deci Hernandez
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Thrown Into This World
he may have been thrown into this world
complaining that this matter is without his
consent and he may walk like he does not
belong and would not speak their language
or adopt to their dance and songs. He may
just stand there and watch and tell that he
does not like everyone and everything and
not gain any confidence from anyone and
he may just be a nobody but a protester.
Sadly, he is thrown into this world and
Gladly, he shall be thrown out. He reaps
what he sows. He sows dislike he shall
reap disgust and that is fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Infatuation
There is infatuation in cat's mew
It is there in 'cock crowing its own dung hill'
It could be in the whole assembly of people
There There is infatuation in cat's mew
It is there in 'cock crowing its own dung hill'
It could be in the whole assembly of people
There is no place in fact for it to remain stand and still
The commotion of events and the burst of imagination
Did not confine itself into 'archer' of its fashion
If we take its linchpin from the womb of mother
You will not find its glory a bit farther
Its there from nascent of progenitors and race thereafter
Bowing in liturgy and forming into art and passion
That's what we call homo-sapien's passion
Which can go 'acclivity' into newness of fashion
poem by Hafiz Qasim
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Power
power has built itself
permanently on citadels
you, an ant, cannot take
the place of
their monuments,
look for wood, conspire
with the friendship of the
termites,
the timid worms,
live on dungs, and
begin the song of sorrow
time listens
the storm comes,
tsunamis multiply,
earthquakes, and
floods,
you, the ant, takes only a leaf
to survive,
a grain of rice
will be too much,
a dew for survival,
soon the citadels of power
crushes to the ground
including the king and queen
and their servants,
they all rot,
and you, the ant,
and termites long hiding
on rotten wood,
and worms surviving
on the humus of dung
shall build
for a beginning,
a hill, a path,
a throne of dung.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wedding Day at the Circus Tent
She loved the trapeze
He loved the lion tamers
They both loved fried
carbohydrates.
It was a match made
by a ringleader
in a Barnum and Bailey
heaven
a little too lovely to question.
So I was in a groomsman tuxedo
lined up in front of marching elephants
while jugglers on unicycles
wobbled through the aisles
and fire eaters
spat fireballs over the wedding guests
like a thrown bouquet.
I recall bitterness on my part,
and the peaty acidic air
that clung around the growing perimeter of
elephant dung,
constantly churned and softened
by clumsy feet, the stink of corn and waste
reintroduced with every step.
I wish I had the presence of mind
to smell it
at my own wedding.
poem by John W. McEwers
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Sonnet: The Old Well
The well that had given water to drink
For years and quenched the thirst of travelers;
With whose water, they’d bathed the beasts which stink,
Which flowed into the fields ‘yond for farmers.
The well that served for centuries thus,
Men and beasts and fields, not knowing their caste;
And continued to give water to us,
Perennially that was so sweet to taste.
The well of our ancestors, no more used,
Lies in ruins now and is very deep;
The corpse was found of a young man who ‘as killed!
Thrown into the well and made people weep.
The well that had given sweet water to drink,
It has now snakes, stones, garbage, corpses that stink.
poem by John Celes
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Being thrown out of this place is significantly better than being thrown out of a leper colony.
quote by Blake Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dark Knight Comes Too Pass
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
From a mere boy
Being raised by the wolves
Living in the darkness for just too long
Something just went so wrong
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Was it a death so desperately
Forever in misery
A loves tragedy
Is always so sad to see
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
The not so dead family
A murder held with in their arms
With no recourse
With no remorse
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
He's the alternate ending
As the light comes to pass
Shadows lurk
They shouldn't be disturbed
Let them rest in peace
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Festered hate fills his eyes
As he is victimized
By those desecrated his loves ones grave
Becoming of the nightly terrors
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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We were never thrown into the situation in the middle of our lives, but grew up doing it. This is all we know, and some people who were thrown into it don't really know what to do or how to react and this is just kind of natural for us.
quote by Mary-Kate Olsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cow dung can't be gathered where no cow has been.
Why Do this To Me?
Why do this to me?
Change my point of view,
Take my world and turn
Turn it upside down.
Shouldn't have taken it.
Should have left it in the box,
Locked up, key thrown away.
But no,
Youve taken my world,
And thrown it upside down.
Shaken and stirred,
All that's in this soul
Shouldn't have taken it.
Should have left it in the box.
Thrown the key away.
But no you didn't,
Did You?
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Wealth is but dung, useful only when spread about.