London Tube Trains (Are Like Worms!)
London Tube Trains are like Worms,
They are even shaped like worms,
They live underground like Worms do,
Eating into the heart of the capital,
Like worms eating into an apple.
poem by Rachel Porter
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Related quotes
Waiting For The Worms
Oooo you cannot reach me now,
Oooo no matter how you try.
Goodbye cruel world, its over.
Walk on by.
Sitting in a bunker,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
In perfect isolation,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
Waiting, to cut out the deadwood.
Waiting, to clean up the city.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to put on a black shirt.
Waiting, to weed out the weaklings.
Waiting, to smash in their windows and kick in their doors.
Waiting, for the final solution to strengthen the strain.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to turn on the showers and fire the ovens.
Waiting, for the queers and the coons and the reds and the jews.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Would you like to see britannia,
Rule again, my friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms.
Would you like to send our colored cousins,
Home again, my friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musing on mortality
Musing on mortality.
Though we all start on equal terms
Your life experience will affirm.
All finish up as food for worms.
Some will win whilst others lose
We have no choice we can’t refuse
All finish up as food for worms.
Although we strive to stay alive
By any means we can contrive.
All finish up as food for worms
Some settle for cremation
An act of desperation.
All finish up as food for worms
Although the ashes are broadcast
They mingle with the soil at last.
All finish up as food for worms
That is the way it’s meant to be.
There is no doubt eventually.
All finish up as food for worms
The only true equality
Is found within the cemetery
ALL FINISH UP AS FOOD FOR WORMS.
SUNDAY,11 DECEMBER 2011
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Goodbye Mr Crow
This morning I saw Mr Crow lying on the ground,
he was as dead as dead could be.
Yesterday he was hopping about eating worms,
and now the worms will be eating he.
Mrs Crow was looking down from a branch
of an enormous chestnut tree.
Yesterday she was by the side of Mr Crow,
she knew something was wrong with he.
She then flew down to the side of Mr Crow
and tried to wake him anxiously,
but rigor mortis had taken place,
which left her squawking frantically.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Dusts.................
i was once a worm
people look at me with anticipation
and then i became a fly
the good people did not swat me
and then i turn into
a donkey
oh, the children had fun
riding on my back
and then i turn into a
horse,
men love me,
and then i turn into
a man,
oh, the demands are too many
i have to read
the codes of humanity
ethics, philosophy
science, logic,
and then i become old
and turn into
a rotten flesh
where all the worms are
having fun eating me
and i remember joy
and freedom
and being not minded at all
deep in the dark
underground
back to worms, i sensed
that i am complete
and then i must turn to dust
and then
i have become
so perfect
in the solitude of my tiny strains
in the peace of
the grave
where we all started and then
must end.....dusts....dusts....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big Boots
Drift all you like
From ocean to ocean
Search the whole world
Drunken confessions
And hijacked affairs
Just make you more alone
If you come home I'll bake you a cake
Made of velvet eyes
I wish you could see me
Just when I kill
You're my man-o-war
You're my man-o-war
And the worms will eat you whole
My love
So unplug your phone
Stop all the chatter
Iit all comes flooding back
From poisoned clouds
To poison the world
You're my man-o-war
You're my man-o-war
And the worms will eat you whole
And the worms will eat you whole
My love
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.
quote by Samuel Beckett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shall She Throw Then The Apple Of Discord?
out there is the calm
and the harmony of the leaves
and the grass
the silence of the ants and
the privacy of the worms
she does not like this
she needs the chaos to divert the
lulling ennui
that will soon numb and kill her
and so she climbs the only living
tree at the center of this paradise
gets the only apple
that she throws under the trees
beside the grass and flowers
and then the discord starts to unfold
now she watches all of them in their
domestic wars
the trees shake the leaves
and the worms are eating the barks
and the ants are building their empires
on sands
simply because they have turned
the blind eye the deaf ear
the gaps of communication bore
the holes of pandemonium
she sits and weaves herself a bandanna
now she is ready to go
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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American Wriggle
Rand Paul opens
a new can of worms.
The worms wriggle
around in the can,
unaware they’re about
to become fish-bait.
“That’s it! ” he tells them,
“I approve of wriggle!
Fish approve of wriggle.
Everybody approves wriggle.
It’s The American Way! ”
Tea Partiers cheer, wriggling
like blind American worms.
(24 MAY 10, Santa Clara CA)
poem by Bill Costley
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I Have Worms Inside My Mouth
at first i wanted to spit them all
wanting to relieve myself
with all the hassle
in keeping worms
that my friends detest
they tell me
that i must spit them all
for reasons of
sanitation
or perhaps
for my own sanity
i think about it
and the possibilities
of finally throwing up
after all i get
nauseous
this feeling of trying to hide
some things
inside the mouth
(do you know
about it?)
i could not do the throwing up
and so
the worms are still there
it is something
about giving them
temporary shelter
a home
i did not listen to myself
i did not listen to their advices
i decided to keep the worms for good
swallowing each worm
sliding in my esophagus
and finally settling inside the
rooms of my heart
i dream about each worm
wriggling inside my brain
but i keep them still
despite the mixed feelings of
pleasure and pain
one day
the worms become butterflies
and i feel ready for
this beautiful eventuality
i look up
to the heavens
on a very bright day
i spit them
all free
to the skies to the clouds
and to the trees
where they all
rightfully belong
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What The Hyena Said
The moon is but a golden skull,
She mounts the heavens now,
And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worms
Are wreathed around her brow.
The Moon-Worms are a doughty race:
They eat her gray and golden face.
Her eye-sockets dead, and molding head:
These caverns are their dwelling-place.
The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,
From the great hollows of her eyes
Behold all souls, and they are wise:
With tiny, keen and icy eyes,
Behold how each man sins and dies.
When Earth in gold-corruption lies
Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies
On cyclone wings will reach this place—
Yea, rear their brood on earth’s dead face.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Worms in Africa
The worms in Africa are skinny
Iseola wants to be buried in Africa
The worms in Africa are not slimmy
Which is why Iseola wants to be buried in Africa?
The worms in America are fat
Iseola does not want to be buried in America
The worms in America are slimmy
Which is why Iseola does not want to be buried in America?
Iseola wants to be buried in Africa
The home of her ancestors
Where the worms are skinny and not slimmy
Her tomb stone shall read “home at last”
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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Brides
Brides.
Silk worms spewed me a suit fit for a king
Wore it at a wedding where I coveted
Another man’s bride
The worms came, ate my fine suit, they
Had found me unworthy; naked walked
through the park of autumnal leaves.
By daybreak I sat on a stone by the sea
And didn’t hear the cockerel crew, a mermaid
Beckoned for me to join her.
We swam to an island not marked by maps
In the bay I saw my old schooner called May,
De-rigged now and unable to sail
Cured of my vanity, worms spewed me
Another fine suit; by not looking back I walked
On water to a wedding in Paris.
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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Natures Metropolitan Zone Is Alive
Nature's metropolitan zone is alive and a busy day has begun
Warmed by the gentle glow of the early morning sun,
The fast lane opens for the leaders of speed the ant train
The flight of the bumble bee's wings coordinated, follow their flight path again
The very slow underground subways always clogged by the earth worms,
For ever travelling to the rain soaked underground wonderfully lit by the glow worms
Working snails begin trimming the edges by eating them at their own pace...slow.
The birds excel with tweeting and chirping, daffodils laughing beginning to grow
Orchestrating the sounds of life on this beautiful day new,
Heralded by the distant cockerels cock a doodle doo,
Now the snake climbs the skyscraper tree to collect his fresh morning egg
As all the animal young open their mouths to mothers for food to beg,
The ballyhoo of thriving life carries on from dawn to dusk
With nightfall setting the rules for the evening meal a must.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~***~
three flowers ڙ ڙ ڙ
and two worms ~ ~
and some cloudy complaintsڛ ڜ ڝ
and there you are giving this advice
→
i am worried about the
three flowers ڙ ڙ ڙ
i need some birds
to take the two worms
away from me ~ ~
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That is raw dough. Never eat raw dough. They can make worms in your tummy. Worms in your tummy.
quote by Ryan Stiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Swamp
There's a swamp at the end your bed, he said,
at the end of my bed there's a swamp.
My daddy told me so, he did
whenever I wouldn't stay in bed.
There's a swamp at the end of your bed.
The swamp at the end of my bed
is filled with icky worms,
they squirm about and wriggle.
They're horrible, slippery worms, they are
They're horrible, slippery worms.
Still, I stole my daddy's boots last night,
I stole my daddy's boots
and when the hand strikes 12 O'clock
down to the end of the bed, I'll go
to the end of the bed, to the end of the bed,
down to the very edge.
Down in the quagmire's inners
lurk monsters, big and bold,
maybe an odd old leather boot
has fallen, so I'm told.
It will be such fun to explore it,
the swamp that seeps through the floor.
My daddy thinks I'll stay in my bed,
but staying in bed is a bore, I say
staying in bed is a bore.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Life's dirty. Life's unclean you know. It's birth, it's sex, it's the intestinal tract. One big squishy, unsanitary mess. It never gets any cleaner either. You know, dust to dust, worms crawl in, worms crawl out, right Even though we know that, we still walk the walk, we still live the life. We're like a bunch of little kids. Little kids, you know, we jump in this big old pond of mud and we're slapping it all over our face, rubbing our hair all down our backs and we're making these glorious, gooey, mud pies. That's us.
quote by Andrew Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3 Steps To The Other Side
I
Worms worms
wiggle
without
inhibitions
or deep thought
upside down in fun
looking up for more
to wiggle wiggle
down again
II
Money money money
like a mad whore foaming
or Van Gogh slicing off his ear
or a suicide's regret
if you are not careful
it will invade your soul
and never let you go
still always asking
for more more more
III
Many years have passed us
Many lives have faded from us
Many friends have gone away
Many loves have let us down
Many more times wait for more
Till death takes it away
And gives it to somebody else
poem by Charles Lara
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Disrespect
that early morning i take a walk
on the path beside a ricefield
on the other side about ten meters away
a man is spraying the ricefield with
pesticides
the birds are too innocent for poison
and begin to eat all the worms that fall
from the leaves of riceplants
i am breathing poison but the man on the other side
does not really know what he is doing
the air cannot complain, i could, i know,
but i am too busy about a lot of things and thoughts
the birds are feasting on the dead
worms, and
i left the place at once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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