A Receipe To Cook The Organ Meats!
Organ meats are laced and tasty,
let us make the dishes, not the pastry,
Cooking of brain, lungs, heart,
Liver, intestine and kidneys,
Soak them in wine for years,
Marinate them in fizzy beer,
Baking is too hot,
So we opt for smoke,
Smoke them throughout,
the Day and night,
Even in between,
Many the numbers,
Faster the organs get smoked,
When the eyes and nose water,
Use the mask and filters,
Weeds can be added,
For a quick fix and flavor,
When the sputum is thickened,
With the bending cough,
When the legs are swollen,
With tiring limps and thoughts,
We can go to the hospitals,
To make sure,
Whether we have cooked proper?
Once the certificate is issued,
That we are the chief chef of our body,
With perfectly imperfect organs,
We can stop marinating and smoking,
As the organs can mature on themselves,
and we can be displayed sooner or later,
to show our relatives and friends,
that we are the great cooks.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
On Organ Donation
If you’re brain-dead by accidents:
Your eyes can continue to see
By being placed in one who needs,
And live for another life-time!
Your heart can continue to beat
In one who needs a living pump
To circulate the blood around!
Your kidneys both can excrete wastes
In persons two with uraemia,
And help them live for some more years!
Your liver transplanted in one
With alcoholic cirrhosis
Can help him live for some more weeks!
Your pancreas, lungs, intestines,
Bone, bone-marrow and entire skin
Can be help to keep fifty alive!
Donate your other organs too
To ones in dire need of them,
And make your corpse to help men live!
So, gift your body parts to ones
Who seem to be in verge of death
And help continue to breathe!
Donate your organs; help men live!
You can serve God and man though dead!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-5-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love Sensual Women
I love sensual women and not passionate ones. A passionate woman closes her eyes, moans and shouts and the enjoyment of a passionate woman is blind.
A passionate woman writhes about, grabs you with her hands without looking where, clasps you, kisses you, even bites you and hurries to reach her climax as soon as she can. She has no time to display her sexual organs, no time to examine, touch with the hand and kiss your sexual organs, she is in such a hurry to slake her passion. Having slaked her passion, the passionate woman will fall asleep. The sexual organs of a passionate woman are dry. A passionate woman is always in some way or another mannish.
The sensual woman is always feminine.
Her contours are rounded and abundant.
The sensual woman rarely reaches a blind passion. She savours sexual enjoyment.
The sensual woman is always a woman and even in an unaroused state her sexual organs are moist. She has to wear a bandage on her sexual organs, so as not to soak them with moisture.
When she takes the bandage off in the evening, the bandage is so wet that it can be squeezed out.
Thanks to such an abundance of juices, the sexual organs of a sensual woman give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when the sensual woman is aroused. Then the juice from her sexual organs is secreted in a syrupy stream.
A sensual woman likes you to examine her sexual organs.
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
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Flowering
Flowers are a part of speech too plain,
The language of it is the kingdom of plants.
Offering, exactly conferring, and inferring,
They compute to loosen their offspring.
The wind imitates the parts of the wind
With flowing power, brains are dead.
Often time is allowing a flower to be fed
By the water of the floor, the gestures are bleeding.
May water rise from its stem and flourish in its organs,
Its organs, its organs concentrate too believably.
Flowers work outside as do their people,
So much has contrived the flower to be.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Age Cannot Dry The Sexual Taste..
Sexual thoughts excite the brain,
Which stimulates sexual organs,
Which activate sexual glands.
Lust is felt all the three stages.
Organs failing, glands can act.
One can still feel about sex.
Glands failing, brain can act.
One can still feel about sex.
No wonder, men and women
Past seventy or eighty,
Are turned on by persons
Direct or in photos or screens.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs, he is truly magnificent; but those organs have not grown on him and they still give him much trouble at times.
quote by Sigmund Freud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Manipulation
Oh, my head! my head! my head!
Lack! for my poor unfortunate head!
Mister de Ville
Has been to feel,
And what do you think he said?
He felt it up, and he felt it down,
Behind the ears, and across the crown,
Sinciput, occiput, great and small,
Bumps and organs, he tickled 'em all;
And he shook his own, as he gravely said,
'Sir, you really have got a most singular head!
'Why here's a bump,
Only feel what a lump;
Why the organ of "Sound" is an absolute hump;
And only feel here,
Why, behind each ear,
There's a bump for a butcher or a bombardier;
Such organs of slaughter
Would spill blood like water;
Such "lopping and topping" of heads and of tails,
Why, you'll cut up a jackass with Alderman S--.'
[Caetera desunt.]
poem by Richard Harris Barham
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The sense organs experience the external light, sound, etc. with difficulty; the different sense organs only have a so-called specific receptivity for particular stimuli.
quote by Johannes P. Muller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is No Natural Religion (a)
The Argument
Man has no notion of moral
fitness but from Education.
Naturally he is only a natu-
ral organ subject to Sense.
I
Man cannot naturally Per-
ceive, but through his natural
or bodily organs
II
Man by his reason-
ing power. can only
compare & judge of
what he has already
perceiv'd.
III
From a perception of
only 3 senses or 3 ele
-ments none could de-
-duce a fourth or fifth
IV
None could have other
than natural or organic
thoughts if he had none
but organic perceptions
V
Mans desires are
limited by his percepti
ons. none can de-
-sire what he has not
prceiv'd
VI
The desires & percepti-
-ons of man untaught by
any thing but organs of
sense, must be limited
to objects of sense.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Patience Pays, Impatience Costs!
Patiently Plan your life,
Or
wait patiently for Life's plan for
you! In other words,
Don't try to solve questions of
life,
Before you can answer one,
Life can pose too many
questions! Anyway isn't it true,
patience pays,
Impatience costs? Life is neither a riddle nor puzzle! Sometimes may Look like
crossword puzzle,
When one's words cross other's, If not one learn what is silence,
when and how this precious tool
works, ego clash may cause hot
atmosphere
instead of warm one!
You are a part of nature and society,
the part depends on whole,
And whole depends on part! May it be liver or brain,
May it be heart or spleen,
One can be healthy, if all tissues
and organs are healthy,
All organs remain healthy,
if one cares for their health!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The organizing principle, which according to an eternal law creates the different essential organs of the body, and animates them, is not itself seated in one particular organ.
quote by Johannes P. Muller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Cell
brain, are you there
just to be used?
if that is so, you are
the most abused of
all organs. yet as i sit
back, and reflect,
i cannot help seeing you
weaving other dreams for us
one that we cannot order
you around like scurrying back
to a toddler what seven times seven are
the dreams are more than that
and have more to do with a reptile
that once crept in the swamp
but soon finds itself in the sky
held tightly by the noose
by its ever scheming mind,
a moon that holds a thousand secrets
the mind sooner or later
coolly firmly asserts itself to be master
and not slave
the man? well, at one time
he was lying in water, a cell
with its brain outside - a universal brain
in the plants, stars, moons
millions and millions of years
passed to enable the brain outside
to grow into the cell, to guide it to
what we see manifested in front
of each of us - the human kind
and and the next million million of years?
perhaps, it might just make a detour
to leave us nothing more than a cell
lying in water and the universal mind
on to his next wondrous plan
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Crank
You enter people uninvited and without permission
Sneaking yourself on in
Through laced water supplies
Oh, all the places you've been;
The anger and agitation are nothing
For with you it is much-much worse
Violence to ones internal organs
Are in dire need of a doctor and nurse;
You work so insidiously in the brain
Upon it's nerve center you just thrive
Put up a poster for you in the Doctors lab
In giving my sample, i added: Wanted Dead Or Alive! ! ! ~
By: Theodora Onken
June 29,2012
Dedicated to: The Tilbrooks
Dedicated to: Tall T
Dedicated to: Really Cold Cheese Cake
poem by Theodora Onken
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Sonnet: Smoking Kills
He learnt to smoke from adolescent stage;
Yet, kicked the habit never, thereafter;
Now, he is only fifty years of age;
But gone completely is his life's laughter.
He smoked in chains and puffed smoke-rings away;
He is now chained to his smoking habit!
He sits now counting the hours in a day!
And feels his life, ebbing out, bit by bit.
His Lungs have become Cancerous by now;
The blood he coughed, revealed that Death was nigh;
There's no cure; To destiny, he will bow;
This is the case of persons low or high.
Beware, O Man, your smoking can kill you!
Your near and dear ones and some others too.
poem by John Celes
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The Funeral Of An Animal
The funeral made me sink into an animal,
The room felt comfortable, more so than one’s mind.
I stare at the camera working my sleep
And sight became pleasure in the snivelling months.
You add a holy symbol to the deathly months and years,
A stuffed dog or cat betrays me further than this.
Alone and magnified by the sun of hard work,
Fibres in the organs of right stoop into oblivion.
After this cooking pleasure, the wine-cups are filled
To make the flames too wide for the animals.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Altars of Light
If the light is the soul
then soul is what's
all around me.
It is you,
it is around you too,
it is you.
The darkness is inside me,
the opaqueness of organs folded
upon organs--
to make light in the house of
the body--
thus to bring the
outside in,
the impossible job.
And the only place to become
the skin
the border, the inbetween, where
dark meets light, where I meets
you.
In the house of world the
many darknesses are surrounded
by light.
To see the one, we need
the other / it cuts both ways
light on light is blind
dark on dark is blind
light through dark is not
dark through light is movement
dark through light becomes,
is becoming,
to move through
light is becoming,
is all
we can know.
poem by Pierre Joris
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Smoke The Sky
Smoke my hoochie
You say that Im the devil
Reali-thc
Marco polo hailed it heaven
Socrates inhaled it too
Mr. president tell the truth
Youre the great exaggerators
Since 1932
Telling evils of the reefer
But all thru time weve
Smoked the sky, smoke the sky
Home grown version
Compliments the senses
Opens up the mind
Jfk sold us freedom
Or was it just a business toke
63 went up in smoke
He was the great seducer
Crawling from our tvs
Breathed into our future
And before he died he
Smoked the sky, smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
Bc hailed it heaven
I inhaled it too
Reali-thc
When its time well
Smoke the sky
Smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
When its time well smoke the
When its time well toke the sky
When its time well smoke the sky
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life vibrates five elements
The Sky vibrates with the Sound
And the Air, with the Touch in addition.
The Fire beams with the Form as third
And the Water, with the Taste as fourth.
It's the Earth that has all the five,
With the Smell as its fifth Guna.
The five elements make a body,
Which houses the five sense organs.
Life force vibrates the body
And experiences five senses.
26.06.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drinking The Ocean
Drink from the ocean with its tears overflowing,
Be free, please be free with the amount of water;
Drowning is permanent to the soul,
Be difficult as the tide, be steady now.
The tide ebbs one day and in the night it flows,
When your fat is dripping to make the body uniform.
By degrees the sun cooks you
And the sea is simmering for you,
Cooking the skull to make your brain twitch.
The brain is richer to a man when it bakes
Wherever it may be working.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Live your life and let others do theirs
For you to
Conform to what is said in the title
You need to understand
The following
Though you own a house
You are not that house
Though you own a car
You are not that car
Thus, though you own your body
You are not that body
You are not that anything
Which has a relation with your body
So, you are not a father or mother
You are not a son or daughter
You are not a brother or sister
You are not a man or woman
You are not a professional or otherwise
You are just a soul
Occupying a body and controlling it
The second important understanding is
That you are not doing anything
Your eyes have seen, you have not
Your ears have heard, you have not
Your intelligence has understood, you have not
Since you are not your eyes, ears or intelligence
Or anything that a relation with your sense organs
You have not done anything
Anything done by your body
Of which you are the soul
Is nothing but the response
Of your sense organs
To the their respective stimuli
Third understanding you need to have is
That the soul in your body is
A part of a super soul
Whom, you may call as God
And He is aware of and witnessing
Everything happening around you
And elsewhere
What you need to do
With this understanding
Direct your body
To selflessly and non-emotionally perform
Those duties
Which have been assigned
Naturally and
Which have been assigned
Based on the skills
Acquired by your body
With common good in mind
And with no attachment to the results therein
Guarding against
The possible arrogance
Of having performed
And seek for guidance
From the super soul
For sustenance of the
Above knowledge and performance
While dedicating everything
Done by your body
As an offering to the super soul
Keep you ever attached
To the super soul
By directing your thoughts, words and deeds
Towards Him
Sustain these
And
You live your life and
Let others do theirs
(An attempted retelling of Bhagavad Gita with an appealing twist)
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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