A Ping Spike after Spike Milligan A Thousand Hairy Savages
Ten thousand airy AP raps
w[r]itting down ra[n]t hunch
gobbledy-gook, yap yap,
crun[t]ch mu[n]ch punch
... core cause caws
(19 January 2007 revised 27 November 2008 robi03_1579_mill02_0002 PWX_IXX)
A Thousand Hairy Savages
A Thousand hairy savages
Sitting down to lunch
Gobble gobble glup glup
Munch munch munch.
Spike Milligan 1918_2002
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Christmas Turkey
It's Gobble, gobble, gobble
A very tasty meal.
quote by by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Couldn't Stand The Laws
Cook, look, book, brook, rebook;
But, i am very fine.
Rebuke, rebook!
Crook, rook, hook, took, nook;
But, this will affect you as well! !
However, let me be clean always.
of the sweet aroma of love,
But to punch it back with your hatred!
Punch, lunch, munch, bunch, crunch, brunch;
To set it back,
Just like the others;
To look back!
Just like the others;
For, you couldn't stand the laws.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Waiting For The Spider
how many small deaths?
nickels and dimes in dust filled pockets...
are we drifting off to sleep?
out to sea?
or further from the core?
we die in circles,
circles within circles.
with small short breaths hurled
on the hairy plate of eternity.
a thousand tiny fires,
built by unseen hands
on darkened roads...
a thousand tiny deaths!
or a thousand stop the world kisses,
when names and identities are forgotten,
if but for an eternal moment.
how many times must i be the butterfly?
the snail? the hummingbird flying backwards?
or just stagnant water in a cast aside tire...
waiting for the spider?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slug City
There once was a family of slugs
That lived in a cabbage patch town
They went out every nite to eat
Found a cabbage and began to munch down
All through the night they could reduce
A cabbage to a stalk in the ground
All night they would munch and munch
But you would never here them, not nary a sound
But Mrs H was becoming fed up
Her patch the proudest around
With malace, blood red, she schemed
She vowed to eliminate those clowns
She purchased the best poison they had
She tried every trick she read
But the slugs just kept on coming
Every nite long after it was bed
Then a local wino he said
Out of the garden he could take
These inconsiderate gluttonous
Stylommatophora pulmonates
So he began by opening a beer
Placing some into a sphere
Putting them by each cabbage head
he said, 'This will make these slugs disappear.'
But by morning the cabbage was gone
Worse yet so was the beer
And if you looked even more closely
Tiny signs saying, 'Next time make it import you here.'
poem by Midnights Voice
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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You Take the Cake
If I didn't provide you with munchies,
You wouldn't find a munch to crunch.
You would complain about the labor.
That it takes for you to make your lunch.
If I didn't provide you with munchies,
You wouldn't find a munch to crunch.
You would complain about the labor.
That it takes for you to make your lunch.
You take the cake.
With nothing brought from you to the table.
You take the cake.
With judgements passed and faked fables.
You take the cake...
And you leave no one a taste.
If I didn't provide you with munchies,
You wouldn't find a munch to crunch.
You would complain about the labor.
That it takes for you to make your lunch.
You take the cake.
With nothing brought from you to the table.
You take the cake.
With judgements passed and faked fables.
You take the cake...
And you leave no one a taste.
With a demonstating of your greed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One
One thousand voices
But not one heard
One thousand thoughts
But not one word
One thousand troubles
But no one will know it
Unless I decide to
Finally show it
One thousand cuts
Run down my arm
A tribute to my
Life of self-harm
One thousand scars
That will not heal
One thousand people
Who will not feel
One thousand but no more
I finally decide
There will be one less person
And one more suicide
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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In A Thousand Words
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU MY FEELINGS.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU I'M WILLING.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD EXPLAIN MY PERSONA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TALK LIKE MY MAMA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SING YOU A LYRIC.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SELL YOU A GIMMICK.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU IT ALL.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SAY NOTHING AT ALL.
poem by LaQuandra Baskin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls Just Want To Have Lunch
[parody of girls just want to have fun by cyndi lauper]
I know to keep a woman satisfied.
When I whip out my diners card their eyes get so wide.
Theyre always in the mood for something to munch.
Ah girls, they wanna have lunch.
Ah, girls just wanna have...
Thats all they really want,
Some lunch.
Dont ask em to dinner
Or breakfast or brunch,
cause girls, they wanna have lunch.
Ah, girls just wanna have lunch.
Girls they want, wanna have lunch, girls, wanna have...
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of the Family
Hairy, Hairy, quite contrary
sat upon a stool.
Came the kindly wombat fairy
from the Fairy pool.
Said to Hairy, have a sherrie
makes the bowels loose,
Hairy thought it rather scary
maybe, too obtuse.
Hairy took a wife named Mary
fat she was and round
built a cosy, visionary
log home on the ground.
Home was small but Hairy loved it
'twas a sturdy log.
Found a lichen rug and shoved it
in to warm the frog.
Frog had been cast from his quarters
by his next of kin.
Sealed the wombat home with mortar
and they took him in.
Winter came and snow kept falling,
hibernate they did,
under Lichen there was balling
made another kid.
poem by Hairy Wombat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Those Cookies Made
You hooked me with your looks,
And also cooking, 'bay-bee'.
Your speciality is baking sugar cookies, 'bay-bee'.
And a tasting of your cookies,
Is my favorite crave...
I rush to get to savor.
Because the flavor makes them great...
I've lost my patience to wait.
Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.
Oh...
Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Oh those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Nasty And Rotten To The Core
I am nasty and rotten to the core
they didn’t call me dodgy for nothing.
I run about and shout a lot;
recently I took lessons on how to be a bitch,
now they call me a son of one.
I can swear like a trooper,
but only when no one is around
after all I’m supposed to be a vicar
with a smiling frown.
Believe it or not this is the real me,
a hairy ape hanging around in a tree.
Some will dispute my claim,
but they don’t know me at all.
I’m really nasty and rotten to the core
that even my wrinkles
are afraid of me.
30 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of the Family
Hairy, Hairy, quite contrary
sat upon a stool.
Came the kindly wombat fairy
from the Fairy pool.
Said to Hairy, have a sherrie
makes the bowels loose,
Hairy thought it rather scary
maybe, too obtuse.
Hairy took a wife named Mary
fat she was and round
built a cosy, visionary
log home on the ground.
Home was small but Hairy loved it
'twas a sturdy log.
Found a lichen rug and shoved it
in to warm the frog.
Frog had been cast from his quarters
by his next of kin.
Sealed the wombat home with mortar
and they took him in.
Winter came and snow kept falling,
hibernate they did,
under Lichen there was balling
made another kid.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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WOMEN GOIN CRAZY...by Talile Ali
NOT A SANE ONE IN THE BUNCH
THINK I'M GOIN OUT TO LUNCH
GOTTA AVOID THE CRUNCH AND MUNCH
NEVER REALLY HAD A HUNCH
WOMEN LOSIN ALL THEIR HEADS
TRYIN HARD TO GET IN BED
GONNA LEAVE ME LYIN DEAD
GOTTA LEAVE BEFORE THEY'RE FED
HOW THE HELL THIS MADNESS START
WHEN DID EVERYONE LOSE THEIR HEART
THIS STUFFS TEARING THE WORLD APART
SMELLIN LIKE ONE HELL OF A FART
WOMEN GOIN CRAZY
LOSIN ALL THEIR MINDS
WANTIN TO BE SHADY
IN THIS WORLD OF MINE
GET AWAY FROM ME WOMAN
I DON'T LIKE THE WAY YOU PLAY
GONNA GET ME ARRESTED
GONNA HAVE ME TAKEN AWAY
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Stay Your Favorite Dessert
I can count on you,
To follow my every move.
As if a stalking of the Sun,
Is being done.
And I am selected to be the one,
Exposed to your eyes...
When the dawn comes.
At high noon...
I feel you've chosen me to munch.
As if there to be your lunch,
To nourish.
And at Sunset,
There you are...
Encouraging me to be delicious.
And if it's your wish...
I'll stay your favorite dessert.
Craved anytime of the day.
It will be made available.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The missionaries go forth to Christianize the savages - as if the savages weren't dangerous enough already.
quote by Edward Abbey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.
quote by Edvard Munch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~a Thousand Times, A Thousand Ways~
Beloved…
I’ve expressed my love;
A thousand times
A thousand ways
In a thousand rhymes,
A thousand plays
My muse
My friend
My everything
Alive within my soul
Sewn into my very being
My love…
It is you that makes me whole
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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10,000 Men
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Ten thousand men on a hill,
Some of m goin down, some of m gonna get killed.
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Ten thousand men dressed in oxford blue,
Drummin in the morning, in the evening theyll be coming for you.
Ten thousand men on the move,
Ten thousand men on the move,
None of them doing nothin that your mama wouldnt disapprove.
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
Ten thousand men digging for silver and gold,
All clean shaven, all coming in from the cold.
Hey! who could your lover be?
Hey! who could your lover be?
Let me eat off his head so you can really see!
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Ten thousand women all dressed in white,
Standin at my window wishing me goodnight.
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Ten thousand men looking so lean and frail,
Each one of em got seven wives, each one of em just out of jail.
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Ten thousand women all sweepin my room,
Spilling my buttermilk, sweeping it up will a broom.
Ooh, baby, thank you for my tea!
Baby, thank you for my tea!
Its so sweet of you to be so nice to me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder.
quote by Edvard Munch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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