I have examined the stomach contents of seven aardvarks.
quote by Louis Leakey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
They had me on the operating table all day. They looked into my stomach, my gall bladder, they examined everything inside of me. Know what they decided? I need glasses.
quote by Joe E. Lewis
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
What has not been examined impartially has not been well examined. Skepticism is therefore the first step toward truth.
quote by Denis Diderot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Obvious Flaws Too Many Wore Like Badges
Examine me!
Go ahead.
I've been 'examined' all my life.
Examined as a child,
In elementary school.
'They are sweet...
And such adorable poor 'project children'
And ridiculed with my sister.
Like we were freaks.
And compared and dehumanized.
In front of white children...
Who were taught to despise us,
Before they took flight to the suburbs.
And did all they could...
To deny both the intelligence,
And rights of Negros where I lived!
Examine me!
You go right ahead.
But I defy you to say...
My deeds are mediocre!
In fact...
Incompetence is something I had long recognized.
As I was being examined.
But I was never thought to be of 'that' kind of mind,
To correct obvious flaws too many wore like badges...
And paraded in the finest of pretentious snob-like fashion.
As I was being examined.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When ego is fed…
Someone would remember me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would be grateful to me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would broadcast of me:
My stomach goes full.
Someone would long for me:
My stomach goes full.
Whenever ego gets food,
The stomach is fed without food.
05.05.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stomach with food
Dont full
Fill your stomach...at
Food...
Stomach is
Full fill
The food...
Only at only
With waste of
Basket...
Making
At your stomach...
Drink...
Eat...
A llways
With your stomach
Limet... limet...
Healf stomach
Is good...
Bada full food
Eating...
Mothley once
ok...
Every day
Not better for
Your body health...
Diside to eat food...
Daily...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Examined From A Distance
When people fixed with allowed stubbornness,
Have gone overboard...
Inflicted with too much attention given,
While feeding their minds on poisonous adulation...
There will be those assisting without resisting this.
And as accessories refuse an active involvement,
Labelled to be seen but not apologetic.
There is a supporting of needs being fed to feed,
A mindlessness bent beyond control.
And remaining as ignorant as possible...
With senses numbed and flowing into engulfing seas.
And determined...
To supply whatever it is that is wished as a need,
In an atmosphere condoning betrayal and treason.
Deliveries done to quiet the dictates...
Of those spoiled with a getting sought,
With a vicious disregard for dignity and composure.
The soothing of a monster,
Becomes the number one priority!
When people fixed with allowed stubbornness,
Have gone overboard...
Inflicted with too much attention given.
Fantasizing on an achieving of fantastic outcomes...
Seems not to be in the arena,
Where truth and honesty frequently perform....
With every bat of an eyelash examined from a distance.
To that one who is...
Examined from a distance,
This can't be fun.
To be done and this witnessed,
Where can one run...
When it's done.
When it's done.
To be one that's afflicted,
Where can one run...
When it's done.
When it's done.
Examined from a distance,
This can't be fun.
To be done and this witnessed,
Where can one run...
To be one that's afflicted,
Where can one go...
When it's done.
When it's done.
There is a supporting of needs being fed to feed,
A mindlessness bent beyond control.
And remaining as ignorant as possible...
With senses numbed and flowing into engulfing seas.
Examined from a distance...
With senses numbed!
And flowing into engulfing seas.
Where can one run...
To be one this afflicted?
Where can one go...
When it's done.
When it's done.
Examined from a distance!
With senses numbed and flowing into engulfing seas.
Examined from a distance!
With senses numbed and flowing into engulfing seas.
Examined from a distance!
With senses numbed and flowing into engulfing seas.
To be one this afflicted?
Where can one go...
When it's done.
When it's done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Eye Mixing
Much is made of the human eye-
often said to be the soul's window pane-
but I
wonder what is seen when
eye meets eye;
what then are the soul's contents
conveyed.?
Do we see turmoil or joy,
grief or fear,
are these then our surmise
of the soul's moods,
its glees, and discontents?
When I peer
I see these things
but I waver at seeing them as maps to the soul contents
although I admit they might be.
But carefully look next time if you will
and you'll see as I do
that each eye has it's own identity.
One left most
is often glassy bright
but opaque;
But the other one often carries
a sad look or is somnambulant;
and not alert
as its leftward mate.
Some most beautiful orbs
have blue, green, brown or black
stares and specks in them
and present themselves to be almost unreadable.
But discombobulate one from the other
as I have
and you'll soon see
eyes most often give you alternate sides of the human soul;
one can be hard as iris marble
the other shy and retreating,
giving the person who danes to look
a sense of conflicted-ness
between aggressiveness
and shy retreat.
What then is the characterization of this soul
to be, fight and flee?
So I stand confused
on the deck of my ship
peering through my eye lenses;
what manner then is the eye examined?
As I closer peer
I realize
my
human I
puts into play four window panes
your two and mine;
and mine are very likely to see
whatever they will
as two souls combine
giving us
a mix
not visible
to either
you
or
either eye.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The urge of the writers
I write, not so much to spread its contents
As to spread my name along with that writes.
My urge is the people must know my name
Notwithstanding their reading the contents.
18.06.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outside
They took away
my money and bag
took away my
house and land
lay me on the sand.
I am here
near ganga
and in empty stomach.
I am here
near mahodadhi
and in empty stomach.
I am here
looking Nilachakra
alldays always
in empty stomach.
They snatch away
may language
They thrown me out
from the sky
they are my nearby.
who is there
outside my house
where is my earth
where is my worth.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aardvarks
The aardvarks came out one by one,
Their buttocks glinting in the sun,
And each was gay and free and wise
And each had eaten twelve mince pies.
They did not run, they did not walk,
They did not seem to want to talk,
They sat and rolled their gleaming eyes
Beneath the spinach of the skies.
O Aardvark! You're a friend of mine,
You turned my water into wine,
And when I'd nearly lost my soul
You saved me with a sausage roll!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A contented stomach, a forgiving heart; but an empty stomach pardons nothing.
Stomach cry
Eat
Too
Eat...
Stomach was full
Not stand
Not sit
Not walk...
Waa waa
Marrage dinner...
Mind happy
Stomach on
Body is crying...
With up
And down
with gas..ss..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In the case of the stomach, however, the nerves of the glandular cells were always severed when constructing an artificially isolated pouch and this, naturally, affected the normal work of the stomach.
quote by Ivan Pavlov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'd Be RICH!
I have never felt more examined,
Microscoped and discussed...
Than anytime in my life,
Than 'now'.
From thought process,
To how I digest my food...
To my beliefs and what I pray to,
As if I exist as a novelty.
Sometimes I feel,
That I am an animated mannequin,
For many.
And in 'some' folks eyes,
I can see the surprise when I speak...
With elocution, tone and diction intact.
And no where will I go,
Will I ever forget I am black.
Or...
Should I say African-American,
To be politically correct...
About the whole concept,
Of where folks' heads are at?
I have never felt more examined,
Microscoped and discussed...
Than anytime in my life,
Than 'now'.
And don't think it hasn't occurred to me,
That IF I carried a basketball...
AND tapped danced in a shopping mall.
I'd be RICH!
Even if I didn't have a clue,
As to what I was doing.
All I would have to do is to be entertaining.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Literary Method
His poems Riley says that he indites
Upon an empty stomach. Heavenly Powers,
Feed him throat-full: for what the beggar writes
Upon his empty stomach empties ours!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Understanding the Animals
the stomach is an animal
it can be the best of pets
if you can talk to it, get it
to listen and understand you
you can talk to your stomach
to lessen the flood of gastric juices
yon can calm it down by
chanting to it a mantra of peace
and when you have mastered
the art to handle your stomach
transfer that knowledge to any animal
it soon will also nod to you at your every word
understanding your belly s key to understand an animal
talk to it like you talk to the belly
the common bond between all animals
you either live to go into one or live to feed one
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Will Heal This Wound?
With all the carefulness I could muscle
I went for the rose, the red beautiful rose
Ouch! The thorn struck,
The sharp spike-like thorn struck
The heart pierced, spilled the contents
The wound has refused healing
The rose, the red beautiful rose, stares unseemly and unconcernedly
Who will gather the contents?
Who will heal this wound?
poem by Obed Akuma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poor men seek meat for their stomach, rich men stomach for their meat.
Gestalt....
is it the shape?
the shape of your face, your heart,
is it just the shape, of your body, the color of your hair,
the kinkiness of your eyes,
is it just the shape of the bowl that matters to you?
what about the contents of the
bowl, or if it is empty, what about the air that fills it somehow?
do you see it? no you don't, so
it is not just the shape, neither just the parts,
or the whole, there is something more in shapes and colors
and
even contents,
there is the will that bends everything
to mercy
there is the decision that convinces us all
to be one, this sympathy,
that empathy, that belief that i cannot live
without you,
that someone dies when someone leaves,
that life is better with us
in all these,
that there is life after our deaths,
there is this
unseen coming, this one that we want to
grasp yet
because we think we failed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Win A Prize
Run the race and win a prize,
For the food is for the stomach and the stomach is for food;
But i will live on always to see you grow.
Slow, glow, blow, flow;
That which was empty is now full,
But he who joins himself to a prostitute is in one body with her.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!