Britain's Feral Children
In savage packs they roam and terrify
Lording over housing estates and city centres
Gangs with knives and guns.
Hunting from the shadows with hoods up
They prey upon the weak and elderly
Taunting and abusing, daring to stab and shoot.
What happened to discipline in the home
Are the parents feral like the sons?
Where is the punishment to tame the beasts.
Who passed laws and let the hunting packs loose
And took away a parent’s right to punish
Stopped teachers from taming the feral child.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dark Belongs to the Feral Ones
A lone assistant, an all-night stand
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Flash of a blade behind a door
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Mayhem & menace, muggings & fear
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Drugs and litter and fights, and beer
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Boots that stamp on a victim's face
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Is it the fault of blood, or place?
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gym-slip bride in her council flat
Somebody's daughters and somebody 's sons
She's the local hoodies' welcome mat
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Speed and jellies and hash and smack
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Dealers in playgrounds pushing crack
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gangs, graffiti and poxed-up sex
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Smash society..clear its decks
The dark belongs to the feral ones
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Idle Chatter July 25th,2012
Why can't we have the death penalty or execution reinstalled?
Though the activists who oppose it would be extremely appalled,
Several US states and European countries have it now,
How many can the hoods shoot dead with their guns, before we're allowed?
Our problem of guns and gangs is an extremely sorry tale,
We don't have capital punishment and we can't keep them in jail,
These mostly fatherless gang guys from the projects know the score,
Been In that environment all their lives so they've been there before.
They know the Parole Boards and the soft system and how to get out,
They know the legal-aid lawyers lined up and they don't have a doubt,
The politically correct have questions but want to do good,
And the people they want to help, have guns and mostly wear hoods.
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild F*#$ing Manners
hunting a tiger
big sharp teeth
man-eater
these hunters
big egos, big guns
hunting for survival
need fur and meat to survive
hunting wild game
wild f*#$ing manners
saw lioness and her cubs
on f*#$ing youtube
wild animals is to game theory
as man is to war
primitive yet perfect in movements
stop hunting these majestic creatures
they echo the intelligence we lack
in a far away land called our sub-conscience
only to find our only way to organized life
we're just animals on a hunting ground
poem by Inner Projection
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Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
Or it is “Who’s afraid of Virginia Wolf”?
Anyway, Palin and lip-stick coated pit bull persona is being attacked again,
From Ashley Judd, for Palin’s defense of aerial hunting of wolves.
Palin has encouraged hunting for wolves that she made a $150 bounty,
For each severed left paw,
What gall!
The hunters fly in airplanes or helicopters to bag their prey,
How daring!
With high powered rifles with scopes they shoot to kill,
I would have them much more on the ground, on foot, if dare I say.
Then I would consider that a hunt.
Not shooting fish in a fish barrel, a barrel with a bunch dead pickled herring.
(2-5-09)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunters Lullaby
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teenage Wolves
Teenagers are like wolves
traveling in packs preying on the oblivious
hunting down the unwanted
fighting to survive in the wild
nurturing the prizes it has won in the heat of an argument
fighting to be a leader
snarling when things go wrong
howling when things go right
the cunningness that passed all understanding
the viciousness that pumps threw their blood like fire,
the adrenaline that never quits
poem by Xavier Rogers
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Tough cat Sam returns
Tough cat Sam is restless
he wants to box again
retirement is boring he says
he misses the action and even the pain.
Jess says he's lost the plot
and he's being a grumpy old cat
although Sam maybe knocking on a bit
he can still do a hundred press ups on the mat.
He wants to fight the reigning champ
a psycho cat by the name of feral Fred
he hasn't lost a fight in years
and two poor opponents ended up dead.
But Sam has been working out
and eating lots and lots of raw fish
feral Fred has heard all about this
and says he'll grant Sam his wish.
The Feline Gazette ran the headline
that Sam is too old and must be mad
they wrote some nasty things in their paper
saying he was washed up and very sad.
But Tough cat Sam had heard it before
and announced that he was in really good nick
while feral Fred laughed and taunted Sam
saying he was just an old cat and thick.
So Sam had his fight with feral Fred
and for fifteen rounds they went paw to paw
and when the fight finally came to an end
feral Fred was lying knocked out on the floor.
Tough cat Sam was the champion again
the oldest cat to retain the boxing crown
and as Sam proudly said to the feline press
' I'm living proof you can't keep a good cat down!
poem by Kevin Halls
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You Can't Tell
Now Days you can't tell,
who is the teacher,
who is the student,
you can't tell.
In days of long ago,
teachers stood out,
students would gladly submit,
who is who, you can't tell.
Now Days you can't tell,
who is the parent,
who is the child,
you can't tell.
In days of long ago,
parents passed on morals,
taught their children well,
who is who, you can't tell.
Parents should build strength,
in their children, you can't tell,
who is the child, who is the parent,
children learn this well.
Now Days you can't tell,
bring back intergrity,
look, act, like you should,
so now days, you can tell.
wrote 1-23-07
If you Risk to fall for a Trap
Hunting Shadow
Leave me alone
I am free as a widow
Hunting Shadow
Find yourself
I am only a meadow
Hunting Shadow
Hurried passed by,
as Good-bye she heard, from the window…
(Aug.13 -2007)
poem by Florida Angel
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Hunting High And Low
Typed by [email protected]
Hunting High and Low:
Here I am
And within the reach of my hand
She's sound asleep
And she's sweeter now
Than the wildest dream
Could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
But I know I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go to
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
She's the sweetest love
I could find
So I guess I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
High and low
Ah, do you know what it means
To love you
I'm hunting high and low
And now she's telling me
She's got to go away
I'll always be hunting high and low
Only for you (And now she's telling me)
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
For you I'll be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunter's Lullaby
Your father's gone a-hunting
He's deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child.
Your father's gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way.
Your father's gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit
song performed by by Leonard Cohen from Various Positions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunting Season Is Open
Gun hunting season opens tomorrow morning
my husband is gathering his hunting gear around.
He'll be getting up really early in the morning
way before the break of dawn.
He's trying his special orange hunting cap on
so that he's not mistaken for a deer.
Us wives always worry about that you know
it is one of a hunter's wifes greatest fears.
The weather is suppose to be very cold and rainy
my husband says that is the best weather for hunting in.
Because the deer are on the move much more
then when it's warmer like some recent days have been.
I will say a prayer to our Lord above
asking that He protect all hunters, on this opening day.
And that they all come back with that Buck or Doe their after
and no bullets from their guns shot go astray.
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher
Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher
Parents are the builder of children’s characters and minds,
The mother won’t be a fighter but should be a well preacher,
If she is an illiterate she must carry her children to tuition,
Howsoever the mother should educate their children first,
And she should send her children to school daily and regularly,
Teachers are not blamed not to fulfil children’s educational thirst,
Both the parents and teachers should make them the best citizens,
As we can’t work with one hand likewise we can’t walk with one leg,
Hence, parents and teachers are the same faces of the same coin,
If parents and teachers do them careless they suffer in life to beg,
Do well and have well it is said to see your own profit in life or ruin,
That is why parents and teachers are the best artists of the child,
If an art is spoilt the statue of the child looks like an ugly and a wild.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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The calamities
The calamities
Calamities are the beasts of prey,
They hide couching along the route of life,
And pounce on the each passerby,
When he enters into their hunting range,
Who knows who becomes the victim,
And where they prey upon him,
With the nailed paws and tearing jaws.
poem by Shahida Latif
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The Forest Greeting
GOOD hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the north winds blow;
But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And ah! we are bold and strong;
But our triumph call through the forest hall
Is a brother's funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,
Panther and bird and bear;
Man and the weakest that fear his face,
Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
Hunters and game are we;
But who gave the right for me to smite?
Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And dim is the forest track;
But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
Brothers, the way is black.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Never Can We Know
Never in this world can we know
The country of a person who rides
His car for more than twenty years.
Beaming on the world its lights are out,
After so many centuries and years,
Some of us live among the times.
This considers a roof and house,
Jostling behind the crowd and looking
At certain beasts of prey,
This prey is dead after so much hunting.
This nation shall relish the disaster
Made by some who learn and prey.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cheap Date
wasted youth on
being wasted
tasting the lips of liars
with checkered pasts
playing the game
not playing the game
being game
taming
the shrew
I liked to shop
hunting for bargains
hunting for game
game over
he was no bargain
what is the price
you'll pay?
at what cost?
poem by L.K. Thayer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nashoba Pack
A pack of creatures
That walk and creeps.
Like scavengers in the woods.
Of different exposed hoods.
They hunt for power.
Infamous for murders.
They fight like predators.
Vicious as Halloween in October.
Have scary eyes.
That you should fear.
Black ski masks is what they wear.
The Nashoba pack is here
And the end is near.
Nocturnal like animals hunting for prey.
And we are witnesses that have to pray.
Violence bleeds through the night.
Crime rate rises to the highest height.
Guns yelling and people are dying.
And we hear nothing but crying sirens.
poem by Anteaus Berryhill
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God, You Punish Me With A Quiet And Love
god, you punish me with a quiet and love
many years i walked into your jungle
what a thorn piercing the foot
i always say love always
although the soil, earth, quiet trees always
you punish me with a quiet and love
there is a silence that hunting
do you love me?
this sort of question a child
that being withdrawn
but why do you punish me with love?
i was not able to recognize the crowd unless
otherwise a quiet way
hummed roar of water but you can not dam
from the hum of small water
high into the mountain
being a rustling in the valley
and the roar unstoppable
are there any you love me?
god, you punish me with a quiet and love
far on the hill there
you made me recognize a foreign path
make a return home, how ya?
but if i die; i die in love
and i want you to hug me
dharma on the leaves rustling in the woods
tears at all the creations
so what does it mean?
you punish me with a quiet and love.
(Padma, Ciumbeulit,2012)
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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Hunting High & Low
Here I am
And within the reach of my hands
Shes sound asleep and shes sweeter now
Than thewildest dream could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
Though I know Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
Shes the sweetest love I could find
So I guess Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
High and low
High
Do you know what it means to love you
Im hunting high and low
And now shes telling me shes got to go away
Ill always be hunting high and low
Hungry for you
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
Oh! for you Ill be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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