Merciless men
No bulls! All bullocks!
All castrated, libido arrested,
They toil for their men-folks.
All cows! Only to yield calves,
With no bulls to mate them,
Or to beat cows’ heat.
Just to milk for the folks!
Bulls no more masculine
To fall in love with cow;
Cows, though fully feminine,
Excite no male to copulate.
Cows are delivered of their calves,
Having never gone to sex,
By seminal injections.
Bullocks are stripped of peak of sex..
Creations go without lovemaking.
Men and women of all walks,
From sixteen to sixty or more,
Learn to groom their passion,
With hormones and fashion,
To entertain their orgasm,
By nature way or manipulation,
As often as they desired,
In multitudes and with multitudes,
Whether for a child or not,
More often for no procreation.
Devices are found against confinement
And for a high erotic enjoyment.
Lovemaking goes without creation.
Animals are killed of sexual joy
To multiple the race.
Men-folks are filled of erotic joy
To limit the race.
05.02.99, Dindukal
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
How do you
How do you,
Asks the chief of police,
Patrol a city
Where the butcher shops
Are guarded by vultures;
Where bulls get pregnant,
Cows are barren,
And calves give milk
Three times a day;
Where mice are boatmen
And tomcats the boats
They row;
Where frogs keep snakes
As watchdogs,
And jackals
Go after lions?
Does anyone know
What I’m talking about?
Says Kabir.
Male’s prerogative
Bulls chase the cows and cocks, hens.
Male succeeds while female succumbs.
If man enacts it, it is branded as rape.
Animals are not as possessive as men
31.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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i Must Be A Lesbian
Sexual perversions make men animals
A predation largely unknown in nature
Physical, emotional, spiritual cannibals
I must be a lesbian because as a man;
I'd rather run with cows than bulls
ROTMS
View ROTMS poems, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Cain and Abel
Western Version
Cain and Abel were brothers born.
(Koop-la! Come along, cows!)
One raised cattle and one raised corn.
(Koop-la! Come along! Co-hoe!)
And Cain he farmed by the river-side,
So he did not care how much it dried.
For he banked, and he sluiced, and he ditched and he led
(And the Corn don't care for the Horn)--
A-half Euphrates out of her bed
To water his dam' Corn!
But Abel herded out on the plains
Where you have to go by the dams and rains.
It happened, after a three-year drought,
The wells, and the springs, and the dams gave out.
The Herd-bulls came to Cain's new house
(They wanted water so!--)
With the hot red Sun between their brows,
Sayin' "Give us water for our pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Cows they came to Cain's big house
With the cold white Moon between their brows,
Sayin' "Give some water to us pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em--"No?"
The li'l Calves came to Cain's fine house
With the Evenin' Star between their brows,
Sayin' "'Give us water an' we'll be cows."
But Cain he told 'em--"No!"
The Herd-bulls led 'em back again,
An' Abel went an' said to Cain: --
"Oh sell me water, my brother dear,
Or there will be no beef this year."
And Cain he answered--"No! "
"Then draw your hatches, my brother true,
An' let a little water through."
But Cain he answered: -"No!
"My dams are tight an' my ditches are sound,
An' not a drop goes through or round
Till she's done her duty by the Corn.
"I will not sell, an' I will not draw,
An' if you breach, I'll have the Law,
As sure as you are borne! "
Then Abel took his best bull-goad,
An' holed a dyke on the Eden road.
He opened her up with foot an' hand,
An' let Euphrates loose on the land.
He spilled Euphrates out on the plain,
So's all his cattle could drink again.
Then Cain he saw what Abel done--
But, in those days, there was no Gun!
So he made him a club of a hickory-limb,
An' halted Abel an' said to him: --
"I did not sell an' I did not draw,
An' now you've breached I'll have the Law.
"You ride abroad in your hat and spurs,
Hell-hoofin' over my cucumbers!
"You pray to the Lord to send you luck
An' you loose your steers in my garden-truck:
"An' now you're bust, as you ought to be,
You can keep on prayin' but not to me!"
Then Abel saw it meant the life;
But, in those days, there was no Knife:
So he up with his big bull-goad instead,
But--Cain hit first and dropped him dead!
The Herd-bulls ran when they smelt the blood,
An' horned an' pawed in that Red Mud.
The Calves they bawled, and the Steers they milled,
Because it was the First Man Killed;
An' the whole Herd broke for the Land of Nod,
An' Cain was left to be judged by God!
But, seein' all he had had to bear,
I never could call the Judgment fair!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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SHORT; Humor: 2 Poems about: A 'Cultured' Sort of Cow
#1
What sort of cow gives cultured WHOLE milk?
I think Princess and cows of her ilk.
She has nary a crawling tick,
she does NOT her calves lick, (babies that is) ,
and, at our state fair she wins ribbons of silk.
#2
What sort of cow gives cultured fat free milk?
I think Princess and other cows of her ilk.
She buys, for her stall, pieces of art,
listens each evening to her Mozart,
and for the annual Dairy Ball……she dresses in SILK!
(Feb.2006)
poem by Bri Edwards
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Men’s abode
Pollens travel to ovules place.
Cocks visit hens’ domains.
The bulls go to cows’ sheds.
Women are sent to men’s abode.
08.06.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Broremann The Farmhand
Broremann, the farmer worker.
Every morning at five thirty sharp, my brother Broremann
had to milk five cows by hand bring bucket full of goodness
to the scullery where maid sifted it and in a churn it went.
He had to start milking Rose first, she was the mother cow
other cows wouldn´t give milk unless he started with her.
After milking Broremann had to clean the barn five cows
make a lot of dung; he pushed it down in a hole in the wall
it was later used to fertilize the land. My brother was proud
of his ability to milk and his hands were, firm yet gentle.
There was a problem though Rose didn´t yield as much milk
as before as she was getting elderly and the farmer sold her
to the knacker’s yard. It was a sad day and the other cows
mooed woefully. The farmer bought a new cow to take Rosa´s
place, but Broremann couldn´t milk her first, as she was new-
comer, so he started with Gerda, now the oldest cow, and milk
the new one last, thus rural peace continued in the cow shed.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Man cannot be chaste.
One bull can manage ten cows.
One cow cannot stand ten bulls.
A woman is at ease to be chaste.
To be so is man’s distaste
29.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Divorcees
Bulls are stronger than cows;
Cocks are prouder than hens.
Man is taller than woman.
It is the nature’s design.
Woman wants to grow as tall
As man in all respects.
Having grown like that now
She goes out of partner.
Her mind is still feminine,
Which demands a person
Who can hug her, lead her
And be superior to her.
She searches a partner,
Higher than her, in vain
And get one that miss-fires.
She lives as a divorcee.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Cows are my passion. What I have ever sighed for has been to retreat to a Swiss farm, and live entirely surrounded by cows - and china.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Whale
The Whale is found in seas and oceans,
Indulging there in fishlike motions,
But Science shows that Whales are mammals,
Like Jersey cows, and goats, and camels.
When undisturbed, the Whale will browse
Like camels, goats, and Jersey cows,
On food that satisfies its tongue,
Thus making milk to feed its young.
Asking no costly hay and oats,
Like camels, Jersey cows, and goats,
The Whale, prolific milk producer,
Should be our cheapest lactic juicer.
Our milk should all come from the sea,
But who, I ask, would want to be—
And here the proposition fails—
The milkmaid to a herd of Whales?
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
He made the cows to want the rain to fall he made the grass that they use to eat to fill the want inside a cow he makes grass as bread for cows they just continue there to graze in some places in the desert spaces there is grass for cows to eat this is called heaven sweet to cows they drink water when they have it in a drink flavored pouch oh no see eh ewe caught me making lies no listen while eye smile and tell ewe this poem is so nice there is grass for all the cows there is grass on every hill and every cow can eat in heaven they still have grass for every cow there is food in heaven there is food there in a drink flavored pouch.
poem by Charles Hice
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Langwidge
'The flamin' cows!' 'e ses; 'e did, an' worse;
'Twas 'orrible the langwidge that 'e used.
It made me blood run cold to 'ear 'im curse;
An' me that taken-back-like an' confused;
W'ile them poor beasts 'e belted an' abused.
'They couldn't shift,' 'e ses, 'a blanky 'earse!
The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' You oughter 'eard 'im curse.
You would a bin that shocked. . . . An' the idear!
'Im usin' such remarks about a 'earse;
An' 'is own brother buried not a year.
'Not move a blanky 'earee!' 'e ses. My dear,
You 'ardly could imagine langwidge worse.
'The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' Wot would the parson say?
An' 'im so friendly-like with 'im an' 'er.
I pity 'er; I do, 'cos, in 'er way.
She is respectable. But 'i! It's fur
From me, as you well know, to cast a slur,
On anyone; but wot I 'eard that day. . . .
'The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' I know quite well that we
Ain't wot you'd call thin-skinned; and nasty pride
Is wot I never 'ad.... But 'er! ... W'y she
She's allus that stuck-up an' full o' side;
A sorter thing I never could abide.
An' all the time 'er 'usband.... Goodness me!
'The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' O' course 'e never knowed
That I was list'nin' to 'im all the w'ile.
'E muster bin a full hour on the road;
An', Lord, you could 'a' 'eard 'im for a mile.
Jes' cos they stuck 'im in that boggy sile:
'If they ain't blanky swine,' 'e ses, 'I'm blowed!
The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' W'y, if it 'ad occurred,
An' me not 'eard, I'd 'ardly think it true.
An', you know well, I wouldn't breathe a word
Against a livin' soul, I don't care 'oo;
Not if the Queen of Hingland arst me to.
But, oh! that langwidge! If you only 'eard!
'The flamin' cows!'
'The flamin' cows!' 'e ses,, an' more besides.
An' fancy! 'Im! To think that 'e would swear!
W'y 'Blarst!' 'e sez... Yes! 'Blarst the'r blanky 'ides!'
(Oh, you may well throw up your 'ands an' stare!)
Yes - 'Blarst,' 'e ses, 'the'r blanky 'ides an' 'air!
I'll out the blanky skin off er the'r sides!
The flamin' cows!'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Poor Creatures
What it takes on this planet,
to make love to each other in peace.
Everyone pries under your sheets,
everyone interferes with your loving.
They say terrible things about a man and a woman,
who after much milling about,
all sorts of compunctions,
do something unique,
they both lie with each other in one bed.
I ask myself whether frogs are so furtive,
or sneeze as they please.
Whether they whisper to each other in swamps about illegitimate frogs,
or the joys of amphibious living.
I ask myself if birds single out enemy birds,
or bulls gossip with bullocks before they go out in public with cows.
Even the roads have eyes and the parks their police.
Hotels spy on their guests,
windows name names,
canons and squadrons debark on missions to liquidate love.
All those ears and those jaws working incessantly,
till a man and his girl
have to raise their climax,
full tilt,
on a bicycle.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Poor Fellows
What it takes on this planet,
to make love to each other in peace.
Everyone pries under your sheets,
everyone interferes with your loving.
They say terrible things about a man and a woman,
who after much milling about,
all sorts of compunctions,
do something unique,
they both lie with each other in one bed.
I ask myself whether frogs are so furtive,
or sneeze as they please.
Whether they whisper to each other in swamps about illegitimate frogs,
or the joys of amphibious living.
I ask myself if birds single out enemy birds,
or bulls gossip with bullocks before they go out in public with cows.
Even the roads have eyes and the parks their police.
Hotels spy on their guests,
windows name names,
canons and squadrons debark on missions to liquidate love.
All those ears and those jaws working incessantly,
till a man and his girl
have to raise their climax,
full tilt,
on a bicycle.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The Muse Of Life
Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Wildy Ones
The sheep are in the silver wood,
The cows are in the broom;
The goats are in the wild mountain
And won't be home by noon.
My mother sang that olden tune
Most every night,
And to her newest she would croon
By candle light;
While cuddling in the velvet gloom
I'd dream of cows
That sought each dawn 'mid golden broom
To gently browse.
Or I would glimpse the silver wood,
The birchen glade,
Where pearly sheep in quiet mood
Cropped unafraid;
But how I loved in lapsing drowse
The mountain wild!
The goats were more than sheep and cows
To one wee child.
For cows and sheep are shelter-wise,
And love the lea;
While goats have starlight in their eyes,
In cragland free . . .
And now on edge of endless sleep
Wryly I note
How less I'm kin to kine and sheep
Than rebel goat!
poem by Robert William Service
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Snakes and cows
Foxes are cheats;
Snakes are venom;
Lions are cruel.
Are they all meant,
For that, to go to hell?
Cows are pious;
Deer are harmless;
Dogs are loyal.
Are they all meant,
For that, to go to heaven?
Some are by nature like snakes
And some are like cows.
26.05.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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0329 Holy Shit (2)
everything in Creation
is as holy as its Creator
how could it be otherwise?
the cow
has been the centre
of the Vedic culture
these last few thousand years
fed with love
and yielding milk and calves
and cowpatties
which when dried
provide the fuel which
the saints say is the best
for use as the domestic fire
of food it is said
the first part supports the body
and the second part the soul
while the third part falls
to support the earth
Wordsworth found immortality
amid the daffodils
but see here in the next field –
the cows are grazing as peacefully
as poets
poets who see the world
in awe and wonder
as the supreme machine
whose every part
is wholly of the whole
mind how you tread
this ground is holy
poem by Michael Shepherd
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