I don't use a pen. I write with a goose quill dipped in venom.
quote by Jay Dratler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A goose quill is more dangerous than a lion's claw.
Dance of Venom Right in front My Eyes
Venom
Cold and merciless
Better than venom
Sweet and intoxicate
At least my heart won't be broken
Still longing
The love of venom
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Dipped and Greasy
Dipped and greasy...
Fingers licked from overeating.
They're dipped and greasy,
From a gluttony treated.
And...
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
Dipped and greasy...
Fingers licked from overeating.
They're dipped and greasy,
From a gluttony treated.
And...
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
Many praying that the buffet will stay.
Many praying that they'll find another way,
To supply more condiments...
And remove the after dinner mints.
Dipped and greasy...
Fingers licked from overeating.
They're dipped and greasy,
From a gluttony treated.
And...
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
Dipped and greasy...
Fingers licked from overeating.
They're dipped and greasy,
From a gluttony treated.
And...
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
Dipped and greasy fingers licked...
Are slowly from us fading.
And those lips smacked,
Are begging for the buffet.
But a gluttony once loved...
Is slowly from us fading away.
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
Dipped and greasy,
Are those days licked...
Fading away!
They once were licked with ease,
But those fingers have no buffet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Snake Bite
Snake bite
Venom strikes
Into your bloodstream it goes
To kill you slow
Oh so slow
Watch the venom as it flows
Your blood it pulses
Your body convulses
Onto the floor you'll be
Deader than dead
Venom as thick as lead
Anger in the snake's head
A poison quick
The killer kiss
Snake venom is the way to
Death's Slow Bliss
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Morse Moose & The Grey Goose
Right on down at the bottom of the sea
Tell me are you receiving me?
My name is morse moose and Im calling you
The grey goose was a steady boat
People said shes never float
One night when the moon was high
The grey goose flew away
As we were sailing round the rocks
The mate took out his compass box
And said the wind is like a fox
But the grey goose flew away
When out upon the open sea
The admiral, the mate and me
Prepared to face eternity
But the grey goose flew away
She flew into the stormy sea
Davy jones was calling me
But heading for tranquility
The grey goose flew away
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sinking Fund Cried
["Now what, we ask, is become of this Sinking Fund - these eight millions of surplus above expenditure, which were to reduce the interest of the national debt by the amount of four hundred thousand pounds annually? Where, indeed, is the Sinking Fund itself?" - The Times]
Take your bell, take your bell,
Good Crier, and tell
To the Bulls and the Bears, till their ears are stunn'd,
That, lost or stolen,
Or fall'n through a hole in
The Treasury floor, is the Sinking Fund!
O yes! O yes!
Can anybody guess
What the deuce has become of this Treasury wonder?
It has Pitt's name on't,
All brass, in the front,
And R--b--ns--n's scrawl'd with a goose-quill under.
Folks well knew what
Would soon be its lot,
When Frederick or Jenky set hobnobbing,[1]
And said to each other,
"Suppose, dear brother,
We make this funny old Fund worth robbing."
We are come, alas!
To a very pretty pass --
Eight Hundred Millions of score, to pay,
With but Five in the till,
To discharge the bill,
And even that Five too, whipp'd away!
Stop thief! stop thief! --
From the Sub to the Chief,
These Genmen of Finance are plundering cattle --
Call the watch, call Bougham
Tell Joseph Hume,
That best of Charleys, to spring his rattle.
Whoever will bring
This aforesaid thing
To the well-known house of Robinson and Jenkin,
Shall be paid, with thanks,
In the notes of banks,
Whose Funds have all learn'd "the Art of Sinking."
O yes! O yes!
Can any body guess
What the devil has become of the Treasury wonder?
It has Pitt's name on 't,
All brass, in the front,
And R--b--ns--n's, scrawl'd with a goose-quill under.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Hole In My Head
Hole in my head
hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
Let's just say we will and then don't instead
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You're gonna take me boy on a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
You took my imagination and stomped it inthe ground
Now I can only think about you
chasin' the tracks that you left around
Hole in my head
hole in my head
Oh I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you like a hole in my head
You make me feel so bad that I wish I was dead
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I'm never gonna win
It must have knocked me crazy
it must have hit me hard
People must think I'm lazy
Like my shuffle's short
of playing a card
Wild goose chase
Wild goose chase
Oh I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
I need a boy like you
like a wild goose chase
You better find somebody to take my place
Let the games begin
Yeah here I go again
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you
Like a hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Hole in my head
Like a hole in my head
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
I need a boy like you (I need a boy like you)
song performed by by Dixie Chicks from Fly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Start Begging Again
Following the glowing panorama of a tragi-comedy
staged by the former President of a languishing
African State, the grasping, self-serving characters
like puppets presenting a show in my head: I see the
President at the wheel of a Limousine welcoming
every family member and private advisor who dipped
their hands in the State's money bags
All laws and regulations used to further their own cause
as financial institutions went bankrupt one after another,
I see the puppet faces in this happy farce that had no
place for the common populace, grabbing and changing
a whole state to suit themselves, Greece looks mild in
comparison, I sympathise with the unsophisticated who
do not realise the self-defeat when
The goose laying the golden eggs is killed, these hands
slaughtered the nation's goose in their greed - now
everyone is overcome with contrition, no more golden
eggs, time to start begging again…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Prologue from Preparatory Meditations Before My Approach to The Lord's Supper
Lord, can a crumb of dust the earth outweigh,
Outmatch all mountains, nay the crystal sky?
Imbosom in't designs that shall display
And trace into the boundless deity?
Yea, hand a pen whose moisture doth gild o'er
Eternal glory with a glorious glore.
If it is pen had of an angel's quill,
And sharpened on a precious stone ground tight,
And dipped in liquid gold, and moved by skill
In crystal leaves should golden letters write,
It would but blot and blur, yea, jag and jar,
Unless Thou mak'st the pen and scribener.
I am this crumb of dust which is designed
To make my pen unto Thy praise alone,
And my dull fancy I would gladly grind
Unto an edge on Zion's precious stone;
And write in liquid gold upon Thy name
My letters till Thy glory forth doth flame.
Let not th' attempts break down my dust I pray,
Nor laugh Thou them to scorn, but pardon give.
Inspire this crumb of dust till it display
Thy glory through't: and then Thy dust shall live.
Its failings then Thou'lt overlook, I trust,
They being slips slipped from Thy crumb of dust.
Thy crumb of dust breathes two words from its breast,
That Thou wilt guide its pen to write aright
To prove Thou art and that Thou art the best
And shew Thy prosperties to shine most bright.
And then Thy works will shine as flowers on stems
Or as in jewelary shops do gems.
poem by Edward Taylor
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Golden Goose
If you know how to catch a mouse
The world will beat a pathway to your door
But since the first ones found our house
I can appreciate the saying more
I dont know
What they expect to find
I dont know
I cant make up my mind
They say hes got a special gift
But I dont envy him at all
They started camping in the yard
Theyve got their ears pressed up against the wall
I dont know
How long can this go on
I dont know
How did it last this long
Everybody wants an egg from the golden goose
But no one cares if theyre the one
Who kills the golden goose
Everybody wants an egg from the golden goose
I wonder just how many eggs are in the golden goose?
A paparazzis at the door
He says hes here from people magazine
And theres some lady on the phone
Wants him to advertise designer jeans
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow-Poisoning
Slow-poisoning
That's what he
Did to me…
Now, my mind
Is so full of
Venom -
For him,
That if he
Ever comes
Close, he'll
Only get -
Stings from me.
(Theme: Venom)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Inject The Venom
No mercy for the bad if they want it
No mercy for the bad if they plead
No mercy for the bad if they need it
No mercy from me
Tell no truth and tell no lies
Cross your heart and hope to die
Never give what you cant take back
Scratch like a cat
Inject your venom
Itll be your last attack
No mercy for the bad if they want it
No mercy for the bad if they plead
No mercy for the bad if they need it
V-e-n-o-m
Got no heart, no - feel no pain
Take your soul and - leave a stain
Come choose your victim
Take him by surprise
Go in hard and get him
Right between the eyes and -
Chorus:
Inject the venom
Inject the venom
Inject the venom
Inject it all
(stick it in, stick it)
Chorus
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thinking to get at once all the gold the goose could give, he killed it and opened it only to find - nothing.
Aesop in The Goose with the Golden Eggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thomas Chickenbone
He was demented and well-known
By those who knew him not at all-
The thundering Thomas Chickenbone,
Who walked these famed poetic halls.
The younger lemmings aped his writing,
That came from his almighty quill,
That wrought much jealousy and fighting
Among his peers of lesser skill.
Larger-than-life, he walked alone,
Like some half human and half beast-
The brazen Thomas Chickenbone-
The bomb of poetry released.
He rolled his r's and hissed his s's
In every poem he would write
Like presidential addresses,
That he delivered day and night.
He was determined like a stone,
And no one could break his will-
The feisty Thomas Chickenbone
With balls of fire in his quill.
Some women said that he alone
Had stamina of a thousand men,
For mighty Thomas Chickenbone
Was very potent with his pen.
August 18,2007
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What I want to write
What I want to write
I could not write.
I could not write
Tiger tiger cat cat
And the difference they behaved.
I could not write
The sky and its fall
On our forehead.
What I want to write
I could not write.
I write how I loved
How flower blosom
How fruit ripe
How stream flow.
I could not know
How I write
And I write
What I want to write
I could not write.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Career In Letters
When Liberverm resigned the chair
Of This or That in college, where
For two decades he'd gorged his brain
With more than it could well contain,
In order to relieve the stress
He took to writing for the press.
Then Pondronummus said, 'I'll help
This mine of talent to devel'p;'
And straightway bought with coin and credit
The _Thundergust_ for him to edit.
The great man seized the pen and ink
And wrote so hard he couldn't think;
Ideas grew beneath his fist
And flew like falcons from his wrist.
His pen shot sparks all kinds of ways
Till all the rivers were ablaze,
And where the coruscations fell
Men uttered words I dare not spell.
Eftsoons with corrugated brow,
Wet towels bound about his pow,
Locked legs and failing appetite,
He thought so hard he couldn't write.
His soaring fancies, chickenwise,
Came home to roost and wouldn't rise.
With dimmer light and milder heat
His goose-quill staggered o'er the sheet,
Then dragged, then stopped; the finish came-
He couldn't even write his name.
The _Thundergust_ in three short weeks
Had risen, roared, and split its cheeks.
Said Pondronummus, 'How unjust!
The storm I raised has laid my dust!'
When, Moneybagger, you have aught
Invested in a vein of thought,
Be sure you've purchased not, instead,
That salted claim, a bookworm's head.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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