I kill flies, I eat meat, you know, whatever.
quote by Ethan Hawke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Meat Ball
(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Molly, Concerning God
Is God the one who eats the meat
off the bones of dead people?
-Molly Miranda Jong-Fast, age 3 1/2
God is the one,
Molly,
whether we call him
Him,
or Her,
treeform or spewing
volcano,
Vesuvius or vulva,
penis-rock,
or reindeer-on-cave-wall,
God is the one
who eats
our meat,
Molly,
& we yield
our meat
up willingly.
Meat is our
element,
meat is our
lesson.
When our bodies fill
with each other,
when our blood swells
in our organs
aching for another,
body of meat,
heart of meat,
soul of meat,
we are only doing
what God wants
us to—
meat joining meat
to become insubstantial air,
meat fusing
with meat
to make
a small wonder
like you.
The wonder of you
is that you push
our questions
along into
the future—
so that I know
again
the wonder of meat
through you,
the wonder of meat
turning to philosophy,
the wonder of meat
transubstantiated
into poetry,
the wonder of
sky-blue meat
in your roundest eyes,
the wonder of
dawn-colored meat
in your cheeks & palms,
the wonder of meat
becoming
air.
You
are my theorem,
my proof,
my meaty metaphysics,
my little questioner,
my small Socrates
of the nursery-schoolyard.
To think that
such wonder
can come from meat!
Well then,
if God is hungry—
let Him eat,
let Her eat.
poem by Erica Jong
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Nightwing
Nightwing has stirred, and taken to flight
The silence is over, hes shattered the night
No other hunter has the power or the grace
He is the master of this place
Tell every creature of the night
The kill is around the bend
So listen my friend
Nightwing flies again
They say he comes for those whose souls are weak
And call his name upon the wind
The night is cold and thick with mystery
Oh I can feel his beating wings
Tell every creature of the night
The kill is around the bend
Nightwing flies again
Tell every creature of the night
The kill is around the bend
Nightwing flies again
Nightwing has stirred, and taken to flight
The silence is over, hes shattered the night
Life aint for giving and forgiving aint free
No soul will rest while the hunted run free
So tell every creature of the night
The kill is around the bend
Listen my friend
Nightwing flies again
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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GodEatGod
Dear god do you want to tear your knuckles down
and hold yourself
Dear god can you climb up that tree
meat in the shape of a 'T'
Dear god the paper says you were the King
in the black limousine
Dear John and all the King's men
can't put you head together again
Before the bullets
before the flies
before authorities take out my eyes
the only smiling are you dolls that I made
but you are plastic and so are your brains
Dear god the sky is as blue
as a gunshot wound
Dear god if you were alive
you know we'd kill you
Before the bullets
before the flies
before authorities take out my eyes
the only smiling are you dolls that I made
but you are plastic and so are your brains
song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat And Potato Man
meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what i am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat & Potato Man
Meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what I am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In For Quite a Surprise
He is not perceived to be a leader.
And perhaps the reason for that is...
He does not seek red meat to eat.
Nor is he drooling and leashed...
With a six foot chain that's padlocked.
And he does not bark demands.
He speaks intelligently,
About the concerns of the people.
And they see him as weak...
Since the others rather kill themselves,
To show their sacrifices on the streets.
To prove how they handle conflict.
And he makes attempts,
To show them how sick this is!
He has more than an uphill climb.
He wishes to remove a consciousness of violence,
And crime from their minds.
It has been suggested,
That he begins his mission with the pitbulls.
He has only to get the red meat from between their bloody teeth,
To feed them porridge and tuck them in bed at night.
To do this...and be watched!
And if he succeeds and flies in the air,
After walking on water...
Then they will accept him as their leader!
Since he has proven them to be someone they can trust...
To regain their loved corrupted lifstyles and crooked backs,
They hope he watches!
'Oh...
They are in for quite a surprise.
He is nothing like that at all.'
I know that.
You know that.
They have no clue...
What they can expect,
Yet!
And some folks will be quite upset.
Because they did not expect that from a Black!
'What do you mean by that? '
Have you noticed how disciplined he is?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bone OUT
Dog
Did not
Lovengely
Eat at...
Meat...
Why...?
Meat bone less
Meat...
So...
Dog did not
Eat meet...
Dog wanted for
Bone...
With meat...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Kill no more than you can salt, or you will have tainted meat.
Let it Kill
let it kill me and if it doesnt let it try again and again and again till i die, then let it try again and again and finally let it kill me if not then let it try again till i die of pain cause this pain i cannot take, so let it kill until i feel death creep up the corner, let me die with honor or without it just let me die, so let it kill me again and again and if not let it try until i die, for this life i cannot take i have lost all faith so just let me die, let it try to kill me dont set me free come on kill me i refuse mercy or sympathy all i want is death so please let it kill let it send me to death as fast as things go past, let it kill, let it destroy my soul and leave it not whole for i want death, i want death again i say i want death let it kill and if not let it kill again and again till death is all that remain, let it kill
poem by Adens Kamwi
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Jim Corbett
Jim Corbett great stories of maneaters told
For some tigers become maneaters when they grow old
For a frail or injured tiger a Human Being is easier prey
But for killing a Human a tiger with his or her life has to pay.
To a tiger a Human Being is something it can eat
As a tiger is a meat eater so it needs meat
A Human Being or a buffalo to him the same
It kills because it has to without remorse or shame.
Jim Corbett who killed many a maneater has a park in India named in his name
And his stories of hunting maneaters they brought him great fame
But tigers only kill because they have a need to
And the tiger to it's nature is only being true.
Jim Corbett wrote of man eating tigers and of how he tracked them down
And his stories have earned him a place in renown
But for the most part a tiger has to be either very old or ill
Before a Human Being it will bother to kill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rocky
Hello Rocky!
You are using the dead body's money but,
Think twice before you fall also;
For the meat and beans on your table have attracted the flies! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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At a hunting expedition you cannot apportion the meat before you kill the animal.
I don't think I'll have to kill her. Just slap that pretty face into hamburger meat, that's all.
quote by Sterling Hayden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Law of the Jungle
Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. AAs the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the Wolf is a Hunter -- go forth and get food of thine own.
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle -- the Tiger, the Panther, and Bear.
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken -- it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,
Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.
If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,
Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;
Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.
The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;
And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will;
But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.
Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim
Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.
Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim
One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.
Cave-Right is the right of the Father -- to hunt by himself for his own:
He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.
Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,
In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of your Head Wolf is Law.
Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is -- Obey!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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A Muse From The Forest
The white gold,
The black gold,
The red gold,
The yellow gold,
'Obroni-Nephew' is about to teach you all;
Like the very call of a muse from the forest.
The Chinese eat all animals, fish and insects;
The very call from the forest with a view but,
Do you like to be fed with crocodile meat?
The lizard meat,
The lion meat,
The tiger meat,
The snake meat,
The elephant meat,
Life is like that for many who eat everything;
The Chinese eat all animals, fish and insects.
Life is like a visit to the biggest cemetery on earth,
Do you like to be fed with cockroaches?
Whatever we eat today,
We will be burried one day.
Of the brown gold,
Of the orange gold,
Of the green gold,
Of the blue gold,
The Chinese eat all meat, fish and insects.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Flies
I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life - we owe to flies.
Apropos, I'll tell you of Choo, the spouse
Of the head of the hunters, Wung;
Such a beautiful cave they had for a house,
And a brood of a dozen young.
And Wung would start by the dawn's red light
On the trailing of bird or beast,
And crawl back tired on the brink of night
With food for another feast.
Then the young would dance in their naked glee,
And Choo would fuel the fire;
Fur and feather, how good to see,
And to gorge to heart's desire!
Flesh of rabbit and goose and deer,
With fang-like teeth they tore,
And laughed with faces a bloody smear,
And flung their bones on the floor.
But with morning bright the flies would come,
Clouding into the cave;
You could hardly hear for their noisy hum,
They were big and black and brave.
Darkling the day with gust of greed
They'd swarm in the warm sunrise
On the litter of offal and bones to feed -
A million or so of flies.
Now flies were the wife of Wung's despair;
They would sting and buzz and bite,
And as her only attire was hair
She would itch from morn to night:
But as one day she scratched her hide,
A thought there came to Choo;
"If I were to throw the bones outside,
The flies would go there too."
That spark in a well-nigh monkey mind,
Nay, do not laugh or scorn;
For there in the thoughts of Choo you'll find
Was the sense of Order born;
As she flung the offal far and wide,
And the fly-cloud followed fast,
Battening on the bones outside
The cave was clear at last.
And Wung was pleased when he came at night,
For the air was clean and sweet,
And the cave-kids danced in the gay firelight,
And fed on the new-killed meat;
But the children Choo would chide and boss,
For her cleanly floor was her pride,
And even the baby was taught to toss
His bite of a bone outside.
Then the cave crones came and some admired,
But others were envious;
And they said: "She swanks, she makes us tired
With her complex modern fuss."
However, most of the tribe complied,
Though tradition dourly dies,
And a few Conservatives crossly cried:
"We'll keep our bones and our flies."
So Reformer Choo was much revered
And to all she said: "You see
How my hearth is clean and my floor is cleaned,
And there ain't no flies on me"...
And that was how it all began,
Through horror of muck and mess,
Even in prehistoric Man,
LAW, ORDER and CLEANLINESS'.
And that is why I never kill
A fly, no matter how obscene;
For I believe in God's good will:
He gave us vermin to make us clean.
poem by Robert William Service
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Killings
You kill who might eat you.
You kill who might hurt you.
You kill who you want to eat.
You kill one in accident.
You kill one as punishment.
Can you dispense with killings?
29.08.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rare Meat.
Rare meat.
The blackbird seem to sing.
And though I spluttered
'I am vegetarian'
Rare Meat, rare meat!
And my neighbour
Talked of the importance of
'Being in harness again'
Then I realised,
The bird was much nearer to understanding
The kind of species I am!
Rare meat!
And cannon fodder for the cowboys
And manipulators,
All the same!
For my heart
Will always stray to the unheard tune.
And the song of the bird,
Comforted the taut nerves
Of a weary owl.
Who`s been round the clock,
But still does not like the carousel!
poem by Peter Vealey
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Ingested By Hog
Eggs ingested by hog,
And of the scientific laboratory's examinations;
But boiling doesn't kill the worms from the pig meat.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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