Is it progress if a cannibal uses a fork?
quote by Stanislaw Lec
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is it progress if a cannibal uses a knife and fork
quote by Stanislaw Jerzy Lec
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven always bears some proportion to earth. The god of the cannibal will be a cannibal, of the crusades a crusader, and of the merchants a merchant.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The path leads one.
On my way in the path
When I met the first fork,
I took at random an arm [of the fork]
Which led me to the next fork,
From where taking an arm,
I met another and so on
Till I reached where I am now.
The path led me than I led myself.
06.02.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Lyric four bulls
Woman walked in forest alone
Met man
Man aroused appetite for her
Man ran and knocked his head on tree
Tail grew out
Hairy jaw grew in mouth
Hind legs grew
Man metamorphosed because was
Lion cannibal
Tried to attack man
Woman asked cannibal
‘’where’re your four
red and white bulls’’
‘’Do you know them’’
‘’Yes, you sing their
Oldest lyric’’
Cannibal laughed
In hoarse voice
Sang,
‘’One red and white spotted bull is sold
One red and white bull spotted is stolen
One red and white spotted bull is swallowed
One red and white spotted bull is scattered
On earth, scattered on earth, on earth, on earth……………….., cannibal sang tune of ‘’scattered on earth’’ happily for long and until
He napped and woman disappeared.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Meanstreak
Ive been to the left, Ive been to the right
Ive found myself in abudhabi, just a mirage in the night
Been to the high, Ive been to the low
And Ive been to lots of places that I didnt wanna go
But I aint see nothing to get me off my ass
And laughed at all the jokers wanting make me walk on glass
I could walk fore I could crawl
And I was meaner than a bad dog with his back against the wall
Animal, animal
Cannibal, cannibal
See em fall, see em fall
Im the guy that they call -
Meanstreak, I gotta meanstreak
Meanstreak, they call me meanstreak
I just dont know who I wanna be
The count of monte cristo or the sheik of arabia
Ive eaten rich, and Ive eaten free
Im the perfect culture vulture in the face of poverty
And I aint met no one who told me I got class
They say never feed the animal, the boys got too much flash
Im a guy they just cant teach
And I always kick the castle thats been built up on the beach
Animal, animal
Cannibal, cannibal
See em fall, see em fall
Im the guy that they call -
Whats your name?
Meanstreak
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fork To Take
I had pegged you as
protégé, adoptee,
someone I could save.
The last thing
I needed
was
another lover.
You call yourself
'an accident
looking
for a place
to happen.'
I call you
my sweet, my love,
not only
because you carry knives
for me
& want to beat up
all my
ex-husbands-
but because
you can laugh
at yourself
for wanting to.
We dream
of the baby
we will never have.
The little Jewish WASP
with golden blue eyes,
poems on the tip of his tongue.
your height, my hair,
& jokes that hit
their targets
on a slant.
He will never be
in the Social Register.
But will he know
which fork to take-
as you did
when you drove
off my road,
slyly taking the wrong fork
in order to stay
the night?
O you are sly,
my sweet wheat
looking for
a harvest.
Shall I reap you?
Shall I do to you
what the hurricane
does with the waving
grain?
Shall I thresh & bind you,
run barefoot
through your body
trying to stamp out
death?
Or shall I merely
let you
lift me up
like the wind spinning
an errant seed,
& let it
take me
where it will,
right fork,
wrong fork,
no fork
at all,
since we will take
the same path
through
the air
after all?
poem by Erica Jong
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On a Fork of Byron's
Like any other fork.—No mark you meet with
To point some psychological conceit with.
An ordinary fork. A fork to eat with.
No individuality of fashion:
No stamp of frenzy fine, or poet-passion;
An article in no respect Parnassian.
No muse “with ivy never sere” hath decked it:
In fact, it would be foolish to expect it.
I question if the muses recollect it.
A plain straightforward fork; yet interesting,
As to the world in general attesting
That poetizing hinges on digesting.
A fork not standing on its merits merely,
But, being Byron's, testifying clearly
That verse and victuals are related nearly.
Quite genuine; crest and all; a fork to swear by;
Some poet-stories doubtless hanging thereby,—
Associations such as gold can ne'er buy.
For 'twixt the fork and the divine afflatus
The links are perfect; there is no hiatus;
Fork, stomach, brain, pen,—all one apparatus.
So when the food that on the fork ascended
Grew into verse as with the brain it blended,
The fork wrote just as truly as the pen did.
For though the fork the earlier resource is,
Between the two no violent divorce is,—
I hold them to be correlated forces.
Perchance the unsuspected ministration
Of this same fork first set in circulation
The coinage of his rich imagination.
Perchance this very fork could give the clue to
What many of the famous thoughts were due to,
That now are part of me, and part of you too.
And if its prongs administered the fuel
That working duly unto brain-renewal
Kindled the thoughts that even yet fire you all,—
This very fork—(unless I quite astray be,
And you of unimpressionable clay be)—
A factor in your moral product may be.
And musing thus, does not this fork begin to you
To seem as consanguineously akin to you
As if the bard himself had stuck it into you?
'Tis ever thus: what Genius consecrateth
The nearest with the most remote collateth,
Till meanest use on highest issue waiteth.
This salad, now, in which the fork I'm pressing,
Wherein are all sweet savours coalescing—
What subtle shoot of genius efflorescing
Flowered in the flavour of so rich a blessing?
Is it that Byron's fork, some charm possessing,
Transmutes the—stop a bit—Who did the dressing?
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Flesh
Flesh after the bones is sweet,
Refreshing can be tasting it,
Goal of a righteous cannibal,
A freedom has entered him of late.
He is angered by race and degree of heat,
And this his health has provided
To live among the cannibals
Of recent times.
Flesh has a core and a push,
One of them is you,
And the cannibal does know,
And they like a rewarding gathering of talk,
As I guarantee a loving language
To give to a carnivore.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cannibal and Dhieu
Lion cannibal came
With three cubs
In evening to Dhieu home
Hide in shade of cattle byre
When wife took cooked bean to
Dhieu In byre
Cannibal attacked her
She poured down bean
She cried
Dhieu came out of byre
Cannibal attacked him too
Within three minutes Dhieu and
His wife were dead
Villagers rushed in
Cannibal and three cubs ran away
In dry season
Rainmaker was called in
To make rain
Rain poured that night
In morning, villagers moved out
In forest for big hunt for cannibal
Villagers moved for three hours in
Forest until they found
Claw prints in mud of cannibal and cubs
They followed claw prints for four hours
In hedge, found lion and cubs
Men killed cubs
But father lion ran away
Villagers chased him for six hours
Lion went got tired on Nyangdit pond
Entered hedge
Men surrounded Nyangdit
Moved in to kill lion
They never found him
Searched hedge on pond
And never found any traces
Of cannibal lion
When men about to leave
One man saw big non poisonous
Ghoor snake, He said ‘’ isn’t lion
that change Like this’’ and
he hit one eye of
Ghoor snake off
Snake eye watered down
But he didn’t kill snake
Because it non poison’s
In fact, it’s lion that metamorphosed
In snake
After men left lion metamorphosed
Back to lion and left for Juba town
When he saw men from Dhieu’s village
He sang
‘’ I destroy home of Dhieu by bit cunning
I attack wife, she poured down bean
I ate wife and husband by by bit cunning’’
When people put down ears to hear
He changed song and sang
‘’ my triplets remained at Nyangdit pond
My brothers
I am childless’’
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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The talk
There was a dialogue between two drunken men;
Look! It’s not my fork!
How can I eat this pork?
The glass is also not mine.
How can I dine?
The answer was:
You are a fool!
The fork is not the main tool.
Eat with the help of your hands,
Just as the flans.
Eat and drink!
Don’t be a fink!
The food and drinks are yours,
That is what everyone adores.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Mysticism.
Uri Geller
bend me a fork
so’s I may
eat round corners.
For I will meet
On the corner of the street
A comely maid
With dainty feet
And midnight eyes
And raven hair
And if without a glance
She will by me pass
I’ll cry aloud
Alack!
Alas!
And without turning
the corner I
could fork her
in the ass.
poem by Frederick Boslough
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If virtue promises happiness, prosperity and peace, then progress in virtue is progress in each of these for to whatever point the perfection of anything brings us, progress is always an approach toward it.
Furze and Bracken
The furze and bracken
is browned and a little battered.
The Michaelmas daisies
and brambles shine in the September sun.
A Painted Lady slowly
opens and closes its wings.
Every moment
is a fork in the road
and every fork
is always the same,
the choice between right and wrong.
And wrong is always
arrogating to oneself
things which do not belong.
And right
is always
following the Light.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Ladies First
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Pushing in front of the ice cream line.
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.
Climbing on the morning bus
She'd shove right by all of us
And there'd be a tiff or a fight or a fuss
When Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
Pamela Purse screamed, 'Ladies first,'
When we went off on our jungle trip.
Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse
And guzzled our water, every sip.
And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,
Who tied us together and made us all stand
In a long line in front of the King of the land-
A cannibal known as Fry-'Em-Up Dan,
Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand
With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,
As he tried to decide who'd be first in the pan-
From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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For a smart material to be able to send out a more complex signal it needs to be nonlinear. If you hit a tuning fork twice as hard it will ring twice as loud but still at the same frequency. That's a linear response. If you hit a person twice as hard they're unlikely just to shout twice as loud. That property lets you learn more about the person than the tuning fork.
quote by Neil Gershenfeld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monarch And Gods
Indicating the monarch collides with flight,
This is the moment of truth, a fetching of wood.
Monastery after monastery resides in this tower,
The momentum of life is for an album of custom,
Bothersome like a cannibal it creates a life to be,
The bosom of laughter is this cannibal.
You require calcium, to pursue your sports
As of now, as of this moment and momentum.
A bonus is recreation, my monarch loves this,
And at the top is an atheism conquering minds.
Even Athens knows this sport of the classical world,
One of flying among heroes, delving into gods
That do not hear or listen or receive worship.
This monarch is momentary unlike the Greek gods
That understand us all the time, but what are they?
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Never Thought Of It That Way
I disagree!
I think I happen to be among the few,
Who believes they have succeeded tremendously.
Look around.
Observe.
What do you see?
'I see a waste of human energy! '
Go on...
And?
'I see a breakdown of dignity and self respect.'
And?
'I see a mess!
That's not progress.'
Who's talking about 'progress'?
I'm talking about what they've succeeded to do!
And it had to have been what they wanted...
Or this condition would not exist.
Hey...?
Maybe from their point of view,
We are witnessing THEIR 'progress'.
I never thought of it that way!
Maybe that's why they reject our version of unity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People tend to think that life really does progress for everyone eventually, that people progress, but actually only some people progress. The rest of the people don't.
quote by Alice Walker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Some Rest
Getting little rest...
Isn't what's suggested is the best thing.
But...
Once one is committed,
It's difficult to quit.
Like many would would rather sit,
Just to...
Reminisce a bitterness,
Or...
Ignore the taking of those risks,
To...
Excuse the value of it.
And as a bit of a reminder...
Progress isn't made by sitting.
Progress isn't made by quitting.
Progress takes sacrificing,
What is wanted and what one likes.
And...
Progress isn't made by wishing.
Progress isn't made by shrinking...
Away to sneak a taste of cake,
While awaiting for someone else to make.
And...
Progress isn't made by sitting.
No.
Progress isn't made by quitting.
no.
Progress takes sacrificing,
What one wants, prefers and likes.
And,
Getting little rest...
Isn't what's suggested is the best thing.
But...
Once one is committed,
It's difficult to quit.
Like many would would rather sit,
Just to...
Reminisce a bitterness,
Or...
Ignore the taking of those risks,
To...
Excuse the value of it.
And as a bit of a reminder...
Get up and be tough.
Know,
To quit is not the best thing.
But...
Enough is enough.
And...
When it gets too rough,
You can...
Decide to get tougher.
But...
Get your rest.
Remember,
You can't do nuthin without...
Getting some rest.
You've got to,
Get your rest.
You've got to,
Get some rest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I am cannibal
Marrooned with you I will starve
You too good to eat!
haiku by Ken e Hall
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