Growing and killing
Chickens are eaten a lot.
Not even one tenth was decades ago.
Does it mean we commit more sins?
Don’t we match it by growing more?
09.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Place des L[ces St. Tropez
I pray for the chickens on the spit
whip cicadas into a frenzy over it
then watch them sweat as they turn
for chicken sins
they couldn't have commit
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens
Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.
They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Who eats lying on his side will commit ten sins, who eats lying on his back will commit seven sins.
The Tenth
the tenth is always my ending
the tenth of a day
and the tenth of what i am
the rest shall not be yours
for the universe owns it
the rest scatters itself
a no man's land
a place for all air and dusts
a place for all the shining stars
there is light, and space and
eternity
like the longings of the heart
like the droplets
of memories
the tenth as gift
and nothing more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The blinds, a fortune
Blinds are dear and near to the God
As they commit no sins, no crimes.
The God is dear and near to blinds
As he committed wrongs on them.
17.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The sins we often regret are the sins we never commit.
Chronocide
I commit chronocide, killing my day.
The disemboweled seconds now decay.
The corpse of time is silently rotting—
So slowly it's deteriorating—
Soon it's body should be eaten away.
Chopped up in my watch's persistent sway,
I dice the moments passing me on their way
To mem'ry's youthful and innocent spring.
I commit chronocide.
I murder my hours. I slice and I flay.
It's a holocaust of the minutes. I slay
The endless fields of disparate nothing,
Commandeering with the Great Captain Boring,
Telling myself some bloodshed is ok.
I commit chronocide.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Suicide
Hey there killer, where you goin'?
I see you got a gun and your anger is showing
What you about to do? Gonna kill her man?
I know that you are, but you don't really understand
You wanna be scary, wanna freak her out
Knock on her door, and put the gun in your own mouth
Let her try to stop you, it doesn't work
Turn so she can see you, and make the back of your head squirt!
Before you go and commit, a homicide!
Do us all a favor, you should try suicide!
If your gonna commit, a homicide
Spare us all the drama, you should try suicide!
Hey there killer, where you been?
Plotting out the murder on the perfect ten
Wanna make scary on her, I assume
Break in her house and hang yourself in her bedroom
Hey there killer, your unstoppable
Out of control and yo, she's irresistible
Go to her job and drink some gasoline
Swallow a match, and show her just what she means to ya!
Before you go and commit, a homicide!
Do us all a favor, you should try suicide!
If your gonna commit, a homicide
Spare us all the drama, you should try suicide!
Suicide
Before you go and commit, a homicide! (killer)
Do us all a favor, you should try suicide! (come on and try it)
If your gonna commit, a homicide (try it)
Spare us all the drama, you should try suicide! (suicide)
Before you go and commit, a homicide! (killer)
Do us all a favor, you should try suicide! (come on and try it)
If your gonna commit, a homicide (try it)
Spare us all the drama, you should try suicide! (suicide)
Please don't commit, a homicide! (killer)
Do us all a favor, you should try suicide! (come on and try it)
If your gonna commit, a homicide (try it)
Spare us all the drama, you should try suicide!!!
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Awe-some God!
Athirst with love for Thee, I walk;
Afilled by awe for Thee, I talk;
Among the sinners big, I stand;
Along my paths, I see Your Hand!
Astray I go but You find me;
Alone in vice and You warn me;
Atone for sins – What You tell me;
Away from satan, You turn me!
My sins have distanced me from You;
My duty well, I fail to do;
My faith is weakened by my sin;
My God will always help me win!
Why should I fear when God is near?
Why should I sin when God is dear?
Why should I fall with God beside?
Why should I commit suicide?
The God of love has made me first;
My life, I live for Jesus Christ;
To serve my Maker is my job;
Why should I cry, lament or sob?
O God of heavens, earth and sky!
Why do I ask the question ‘why’?
Why don’t I see my God who’s nigh?
My God’s with me until I die!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-24-2009
poem by John Celes
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Eggxample
What came first chickens or eggs?
Chickens of course!
Chickens have legs!
Chickens have feathers,
Eggs have a shell,
How would you like your eggs, done well?
This may be a 'yolk',
But consider it folk!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Holy Cross That Jesus Bore …
The Holy Cross set mankind free
From mortal sins of every kind,
When Jesus died upon this tree,
And paid price with His precious blood!
The flaying and abuses hurled
Left gashes deep upon His back,
With burning pain, no man can bear,
And yet, our living God does care!
And every time that Jesus fell
Reminds the weight of mankind’s sins
Became more than, He could carry,
Trudging His way to Calvary!
The nails we drove into His Hands
Were sins that God for man forbade;
Excruciating pain, they caused
As bones were broken with blood-spurt!
The crown of thorns were sins of mine
Like jealousy, ego and pride,
And vanity of kings futile,
That pierced His scalp and drew out blood!
Those desperate moments of Christ
As ebbing life and untold pain
Upon Him seized, were caused by sins
That we repeatedly commit.
Each dropp of bloody sweat that fell
From brow of head of Jesus Christ,
As shock and pain engulfed His mind
That witnessed ruthlessness of men!
The words of wisdom, Jesus spoke
Despite His sorrow-afilled heart
Are exemplary and so strange
Revealing love of God boundless.
The Holy Cross has set us free
From punishments for sins truly;
Repent, we must for each folly,
And enter Heaven’s life jolly!
Forgive us Lord for sins galore;
That we commit so stupidly,
Although we know that You detest
And fail so many times Your test.
O God of love and rod so stern!
We thank You for sending Your Son,
Who saved us all from fire of hell
‘Spare us, O Lord; Spare thy people! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-20-2009
poem by John Celes
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A Poem Without a Single Bird in It
What can I say to you, darling,
When you ask me for help?
I do not even know the future
Or even what poetry
We are going to write.
Commit suicide. Go mad. Better people
Than either of us have tried it.
I loved you once but
I do not know the future.
I only know that I love strength in my friends
And greatness
And hate the way their bodies crack when they die
And are eaten by images.
The fun’s over. The picnic’s over.
Go mad. Commit suicide. There will be nothing left
After you die or go mad,
But the calmness of poetry.
poem by Jack Spicer
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Oer my Sins Thou sit and moan...
Oer my Sins Thou sit and moant
Hast thou no Sins of thy ownt
Oer my Sins thou sit and weept
And lull thy own Sins fast asleept
What Transgressions I commit
Are for thy Transgressions fit
They thy Harlots thou their Slave
And my Bed becomes their Grave
Poor pale pitiable form
That I follow in a Storm
Iron tears and groans of lead
Bind around my akeing head
And let us go to the highest downs
With many pleasing wiles
The Woman that does not love your Frowns
Will never embrace your smiles
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
Tear drops on the city
Bad scooter searching for his groove
Seem like the whole world walking pretty
And you cant find the room to move
Well everybody better move over, thats all
Im running on the bad side
And I got my back to the wall
Tenth avenue freeze-out, tenth avenue freeze-out
Im stranded in the jungle
Taking all the heat they was giving
The night is dark but the sidewalks bright
And lined with the light of the living
From a tenement window a transistor blasts
Turn around the corner things got real quiet real fast
She hit me with a tenth avenue freeze-out
Tenth avenue freeze-out
And Im all alone, Im all alone
And kid you better get the picture
And Im on my own, Im on my own
And I cant go home
When the change was made uptown
And the big man joined the band
From the coastline to the city
All the little pretties raise their hands
Im gonna sit back right easy and laugh
When scooter and the big man bust this city in half
With a tenth avenue freeze-out, tenth avenue freeze-out
Tenth avenue freeze-out...
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Much More Work to Do
Why are those chickens running around,
And their heads have been cut off?
'They've been conditioned that they are not chickens.
They've been programmed to believe they are constituents.
And that's the name they prefer.
It has stuck with them!
Like feathers attached to birds.'
You are what you believe, you know?
'I know!
And those heads?
They've never used them anyway.
So the running around,
With their heads cut off the way they do?
They've been told only 'chickens' do that!
And as luck would have it...
They can't see themselves that way!
No heads?
No eyes!
What about all those pots you've got?
'Well...
We've been promising to get one in each pot!
And that's the dilemma.
Like I said...
They can't 'see' themselves as chickens.
Nor do they believe,
We can get one in each pot!
So they are running around...
As if a lottery to be played,
Will be stopped.
And...
I don't have to tell you,
There's a lot of convincing.
With much more work to do.
None of this was planned too well.'
Or at all!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sins, like chickens, come home to roost.
quote by Charles W. Chesnutt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Orange Bicycle
an orange bicycle
is parked on
the side of
an abandoned
house
it has flat tires
and its
spokes
are eaten
by rust
obviously
nothing depends
much on it
beside it
there are no
white chickens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Believe A Lie
To tell a lie is a sin to us all
Is that so hard to understand,
But to believe that lie, it is a sin to GOD,
And for that you surely will be damned.
You will be cursed, upon this earth
For believing that or any untruth
And spreading that lie, which GOD would deny
Would be placing good food, with rotten fruit.
To believe a lie, I would just pity you
When you know that the truth is out there
But it is path you chose, on a saddened road
So I pity you, with a thought and a prayer.
When you tell one lie, from deep inside
Your soul it will rot and it will rebel
But when you believe that lie, and never ask why
You will be taking a second step closer into hell.
To tell a lie is an evil in its deed
But to believe it, it is that much worst
Your spreading the lying as you soul is dying
And upon you will placed a terrible curse.
To believe a lie and spread it as truth
Is to cause suffering and unwanted pain
You wont be worthy to live with GODs glory
And GOD will not know you by your name.
To tell a lie, it is a forgivable sin
We have read or heard that once before
But to believe a lie and spread it has truth
You will be knocking upon Hells door.
The sins that we commit or the evils we do
Can all be erased with the wave of a hand
GOD forgives all for the sins that we commit
But to spread a lie, you certainly will be damned.
When you come forward on our judgment day
And in front of GOD you and your sins will stand
Will you be forgiven for the sins, that's deep within
But to believe a lie you certainly will be damned.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The World Of Either Or
you cannot have the best of
both worlds
when you have all those chickens
you have to sacrifice your flowers
these chickens eat flowers for breakfast
on the other hand
when you keep those flowers
you must first kill all the chickens
as i once told you, this is the world
of
either or
not both
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Your Sins Come Home to Roost
When you fear the barber’s mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used—
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.
Many were the sins of others and you never were to blame,
Some were sins you shared in common—you must suffer all the same;
Some were sins of wasted hours with the wine cup or a mate,
But you cannot share the burden—and they come in duplicate.
Oh! you’ll find the fowls are heavy and their claws are sharp and deep—
They will bow your head in working, they will jerk you from your sleep,
And so many hands are eager just to give your back a boost
On the road to wreck and ruin when your sins come home to roost.
But you don’t let on they’re roosting and you take some only way,
And you never whine or guzzle and you neither curse nor pray;
You will never for an instant let your lower lip be loosed—
But you stand up like a soldier when your sins come home to roost!
And you’ll find them growing lighter till you find room for a few
Of the sins of other mortals who have weaker souls than you:
Then you’ll smile, and not too sadly, at old sins reintroduced—
And you’ll be a man in many when your sins come home to roost.
poem by Henry Lawson
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