The Clown's Reply
JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers
To tell them the reason why asses had ears?
'An't please you,' quoth John, 'I'm not given to letters,
Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters;
Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your graces,
As I hope to be saved! without thinking on asses.'
poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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A Man's World
The world of a man climbs into sin,
His every move becomes his movement,
Like the snake that slithers and burns
Within the souls of asses.
My mobility has a crisis like his,
The running effect creeps up,
But the running has completion,
Unlike the asses.
A unique donkey would go to war
Over a significant rule of stupidity;
But my monster-moves require a blessing
Such that peace ensues.
A man shall sin twice before the fodder
Of asses is stolen by their stomachs,
And so the motions of the emotions
Repress the wars of our conception.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Members Only
Uncle Larry's hooked on ice again
He seems to be stuck in the 80's
He wears his members only jacket
Cause he thinks it turns on all the ladies
And all the white folks shake their asses
Looking for the two and four
I'll have mine in martini glasses
Cause I can't take it anymore
These are the days of empty kitchens
The rise and fall of Mary Ellen's hairdo
I think she's found a new religion
Studying the Kabalah in her J Crew
And all the rich kids shake their asses
Looking for the two and four
Well I'll have mine with Blackstrap molasses
Cause I can't taste it anymore
No I can't taste it anymore
My friend Greg says it's all good
As the eastern seaboard's blown away
Now everything is going half-price
So look at all the money we saved
And all the politicians shake their asses
Looking for the backdoor
I'll just be hanging out with the lasses
Cause they don't like the boys no more
No and I can't take it anymore
song performed by by Sheryl Crow from Globe Sessions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epigram: The World Is A Bundle Of Hay
The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses who pull;
Each tugs it a different way,
And the greatest of all is John Bull.
Anal Narcotico
Babies asses profaned
By lustful
Psychopath' penises
Asses from which blood
And entrails' fragments
Spill out.
Inconceivable scream - tearing
Apart ears of the
Criminal
Who wants to fulfill
His sick mind,
Sick of emptiness that
Blows up his brain
Anal narcotic that allows
To unload animal lust.
Small object of orgiastic play
Choking in its yell - by sperm
Of the executioner
Who's got nothing
For his defense - except
Innocence
Raped eyes in deaf scream
Look for death that
Will release from
Pain,
Off "mother's pain",
When they came into
This world.
song performed by by Yattering
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worship The Forest
Asses the amount of money, time
And energy spent on God and religions.
Divert them to grow and save forestry.
The world will be saved; so will be you.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The horses of hope gallop, but the asses of experience go slowly.
Bible Stories: Job (Chapter XXIV)
Job Continues:
Why God doesn’t set time-frames for all?
Why friends can’t see a man’s sad days?
Wicked erase every landmark;
They steal the herds of other men;
They drive away orphan’s asses;
The needy can’t walk on a road;
Widow’s pledged ox is stolen too.
They drive the poor into hiding
Like desert asses, seeking food;
The Steppe provides food for their young;
They harvest untilled lands at night.
They have no clothes against the cold;
They’re drenched by heavy mountain-rains;
They cling to rocks without shelter;
They press the oil out between rows.
They glean the vineyards of wicked;
They tread wine-presses but have thirst;
They carry sheaves but look famished;
With naked bodies, they pass nights.
The dying groan in dust with pain;
The souls of wounded cry to God;
When darkness falls, the poor get killed
By murderers who abhor light.
Adulterers await twilight;
‘No eye sees me! ’ is what they say;
The thief awaits the night’s onset,
And wears a mask to roam and loot.
In dark, they break into houses,
And shut themselves when comes the dawn;
To them, the day is dark like night;
Their land is accursed to the core;
Like wood, God splinters wickedness!
God assures safety and support;
He sustains mighty by His strength,
And watches over all their ways;
Exalted for awhile, they’re gone
Like ears of grain, that’s shriveled, dry!
This is the truth and what happens!
Who brings my arguments to naught?
(5-6-2007)
poem by John Celes
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Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother
(ray wylie hubbard)
He was born in oklahoma
His wifes name is betty jo thelma liz.
Hes not responsible for what hes doing;
His mother made him what he is.
And its up against the wall redneck mother
Mother who has raised her son so well.
Hes thirty-four and drinking in them honky-tonks
Just kicking all them hippies asses raising hell.
Well, you know, he sure likes to drink that lone star beer
And he chases it down with that wild turkey bourbon liquor.
He got a 57 gmc pick em up truck with a gun rack
And a Id rather be a roper than a doper bumper sticker.
And its up against the wall redneck mother
Mother who has raised her son so well.
Hes thirty-four and drinking in them honky-tonks
Just kicking all them hippies asses raising hell.
M is for the mud flaps you gave me for my pick-up truck
O is for the oil I put in my pick-up truck, drain it out, and put grease on my hair,
T is for tolly parton,
H is for haggard
E is for el paso and
R is for redneck!
And its up against the wall redneck mother
Mother who has raised her son so well.
Hes thirty-four and drinking in them honky-tonks
Kicking all them hippies asses raising hell.
And its up against the wall redneck mother
Mother who has raised her son so well.
And hes thirty-four and drinking in them honky-tonks
Just kicking all them hippies asses raising hell.
Where, kinky ?
Where ? right here in the lone star caf in new york city!
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fragment to
Let mules and asses in that circle tread,
And proud of trappings toss a feather'd head;
Leave you the stupid business of the state,
Strive to be happy, and despise the great:
Come where the Graces guide the gentle day,
Where Venus rules amidst her native sea,
Where at her altar gallantries appear,
And even Wisdom dares not show severe.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
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Asses
'I KNOW where I'd get
An ass that would do,
If I had the money
A pound or two.'
Said a ragged man
To my uncle one day;
He got the money
And went on his way.
And after that time
In market or fair
I'd look at the asses
That might be there.
And wonder what kind
Of an ass would do
For a ragged man
With a pound or two.
O the black and roan horses the street would fill,
Their manes and tails streaming, and they standing still,
And their owners, the men of estate, would be there,
Refusing gold guineas for a colt or a mare.
And one, maybe, riding up and down like a squire
So that buyers from Dublin might see and admire
The hunter or racer come to be sold
And be willing and ready to pay out their gold.
With men slouching beside them and buyers not near
It's no wonder the asses held down head and ear.
They had been sold or in by-ways bought
For a few half-crowns tied up in a knot,
And no one so poor as to buy one might come
To that fair that had horses so well prized at home!
And then it fell out
That at Arva or Scrabbey,
At some down-county fair,
Or Mohill or Abbey,
On two asses I happened
Without duress or dole
They were there in the market,
A dam and her foal.
And the owner, a woman,
Did not slouch or stand,
But in her cart sitting
Was as grand as the grand;
Like a queen out of Connacht
From her toe to her tip,
Like proud Crania Uaile
On the deck of her ship.
And her hair 'twas a mane:
The blackberries growing
Out of the hedge-rows
Have the sheen it was showing,
There kind was with kind
Like the flowers in the grasses
If the owner was fine,
As fine were her asses.
White, white was the mother
As a dusty white road;
Black on back and on shoulders
The cross-marking showed.
She was tall she could carry
A youth stout of limb,
Or bear down from her mountain
The bride decked for him!
Such was the mother
The foal's hide was brown,
All fleecy and curly,
And soft like bog-down;
And it nuzzled its mother,
Its head to her knee,
And blue were its eyes
Like the pools of the sea!
Then I thought all the silver
My uncle could draw
Might not pay for the creatures
That that day I saw;
And I thought that old Damer,
Who had troughs made of gold,
Could not pay for the asses,
The young and the old.
And I think of them still
When I see on the roads
Asses unyoked,
And asses with loads;
One running and trotting,
With harness loose,
And a man striking and hitting
Where his stick has use;
And one with a hide
Like a patched-on sack
And two creels of turf
Upon its back;
And one in the market,
Meek and brown,
Its head to the cart-shafts
That are down;
Eating its forage
A wisp of hay;
In the dust of the highway
Munching away;
Unmarked in the market
As might be a mouse
Behind a low stool
In a quiet house
Then I think of the pair
Horses might not surpass
The dam and her foal,
The white ass and brown ass.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Love Faith Hope
What is the ultimate
meaning
of love faith hope?
Love
“For God loved the world
so much
that he gave
his only-begotten Son, ” John 3: 16.
Faith
“In order that everyone
exercising faith in him
might not be destroyed
but have everlasting life.” John 3: 16.
Hope
“For God sent forth his Son
into the world,
not for him to judge the world,
but for the world
to be saved through him.” John 3: 17.
This is the ultimate
meaning
of love faith hope
because
all exercising faith
in the Son Jesus
will have everlasting life. John 3: 36.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Thank God for J-Lo. All of a sudden big asses are de rigueur.
quote by Gabrielle Union
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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