News From Hank
Have recieved disturbing letter
From Hank
As follows:
Dear All
Misfortune has struck
Terrible blow
Fell asleep on container lorry
I am in Hamburg
German spiders not friendly to Brits
I fear racism is rife here
Have tried to blend in
But it’s hard to march with eight legs
Met a Frenchy in the Reeperbahn
Helps out in a transvestite bar
Only safe place he said
Whore’s and spiders
They don’t care
If you march or scuttle
Sooner or later the degradation has you
Dragging yourself around
On your knees
Hard for a spider
I shouldn’t end like this
Have tried to leave
But German drivers are hot on stow aways
I pointed out I’m only a spider
They snorted
Spiders, Albanians
They’ve all got the same sorry story
Bottom line
The Euro is the Euro to Germans
Please send fare
If not send cyanide tablet
They’ll get me soon
Here, they have no apathy towards foreigners
And I fear I’d crack under pressure
Or Jack boots
Love Hank
We’ve sent the fare of course.
poem by Nicolette Turner
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Related quotes
Spiders In The Night
Spiders in the night
Creeping round the walls
Now you'll feel him
Crawling over you
Creepy crawly things
Filling up your bed
Soon you'll feel him
Crawling through your brains
You think he's there
Beware his bite
But when you look
The spider's not in sight
Spiders reappear
Taking peoples names
Everything is taken down insane
There's no way out
And there's no key
But here's a clue
The spider's really me
You're written in his book
The spider won't forget
You won't forget
The spiders in the night
The end is going night
Itsy witsy friends
The spiders disappearing from the night
You think he's gone
You think he's dead
There's no escape
The spiders in your head
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nicklin’s Torment
I woke up in a cold sweat
and turned on the light.
A shadow was moving over me,
cast by a spider of the night.
By the time I’d blinked
it’d vanished from view,
but then I saw a larger one,
followed by another two.
I closed my eyes for a moment
hoping they would disappear.
When I slowly reopened them
the bedroom was spider clear.
With my hand I mopped my brow
and then saw several more,
they were crawling on the ceiling
and marching across the floor.
I told myself that I was dreaming
or suffering from withdrawal,
but that didn’t stop the spiders
from crawling up the wall.
Sweat dripping from my brow
was stinging in my eyes.
Spiders were now on my bed
at my feet and on my thighs.
The whole room was full of spiders,
on the ceiling, walls, and floor.
My bed was covered and so was I.
I screamed stop! But out came even more.
Spiders crawling on top of spiders,
in my mouth, nose and ears,
their scary eyes staring into mine,
I was choking with utter fear.
I tried in vain to fight them off,
but my hand didn’t move a one.
I must have blacked out just then,
when I awoke they had all gone.
Things are becoming better now
and the spiders are getting less.
I’m told they’ll eventually go for good,
along with my shakes, thirst, and mess.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0232 That spider
I'm still waiting for an answer:
does that spider on the hedge
just do what spiders do;
or does (he, she, it) think?
Is it just a robot, programmed
by a pretty skilful God?
In which case you could say
God does its thinking for it
which is surely even more impressive
considering the number of spiders
and other species. Like us.
So where does that leave us?
On our knees
with a lot more questions.
And don't tell me it's evolution -
who made the laws of evolution, then?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No spiders in the city
There was once a girl that had a scream,
Which was unbelievably extreme,
She caused many neighbours to blaspheme,
For when she'd see a spider she'd scream,
By chance she heard something a bird said,
It claimed that it had been underfed,
For it lived where spiders rarely tread,
The girl believed the words that were said,
She upped sticks and moved to the city,
Which left her neighbours far from teary,
Although she found urban life gritty,
She endured the days that were dreary,
For what she had heard proved to be true,
Which led to her screams being subdued,
But there were things that were not in view,
When she saw them she altered her mood,
She'd come to learn somethings were untrue,
Things such as hard work will see you through,
However if only but a few,
Certain childish beliefs turned out true,
Monsters do live underneath the bed,
The horrid creatures filled her with dread,
She felt with spiders she'd been misled,
The true horrors were under her bed,
It became too much for her to bear,
She hated the creatures living there,
They led her to a state of despair,
So she thought she'd go and live elsewhere,
She moved back home to the countryside,
Her neighbours of course did not abide,
But they need not have heavily sighed,
The girl didn't fear spiders when spied.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Without Parachutes
The experience of fear is not an observer of it; he is fear itself, the very instrument of fear.
-J. Krishnamurti
In dreams I descend
into the cave of my past:
a child with a morgue-tag
on its toe,
the terrible metal squeaking
of the morgue-drawers,
& the chilly basement
& the slam of doors.
Or else I am setting up dreamhouse,
with the wife
of my second ex-husband.
She complains of him
with breaking sorrow-
& I comfort her.
(She only married him, it seems, for me).
Sometimes I wake up naked
in Beverly Hills-
the table set for ten, a formal dinner-
a studio chief on my left side,
a fabled actor on my right.
Across the table,
Greta Garbo, Scott Fitzgerald,
John F. Kennedy & Marilyn Monroe-
& I alone not properly dressed for dinner,
& besides unprepared
for the final exam,
in which our immortality
will be tested,
& one of us shall perish
as dessert.
Send parachutes & kisses!
Send them quick!
I am descending into the cave
of my own fear.
My feet are weighted
with the leg-irons of the past.
The elevator plummets
in the shaft.
trapped, trapped in the bowels
of my dream,
locked in the cellar
by myself the jailer.
Rats and spiders scuttle
through the coal bin.
I cower in the corner.
I am fear.
poem by Erica Jong
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The Spider and the Ghost of the Fly
Once I loved a spider
When I was born a fly,
A velvet-footed spider
With a gown of rainbow-dye.
She ate my wings and gloated.
She bound me with a hair.
She drove me to her parlor
Above her winding stair.
To educate young spiders
She took me all apart.
My ghost came back to haunt her.
I saw her eat my heart.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Spiderman
Spider man, spider man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web any size
Catches thieves just like flies
Look out!
There comes the spider man
Is he strong?
Listen, bud
Hes got radioactive blood
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead
Hey, there!
There goes the spider man
In the chill of the night
At the scene of a crime
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time
Spider man, spider man
Friendly neighborhood spider man
Wealth and fame
Hes ignorant
Action is his reward
Look out!
Here comes the spider man
To him, lifes a big bang up
Whenever theres a hang up
Youll find the spider man.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Learn From The Spider
learn from the spider
he knows the value of patience
for even how long he waits for a prey
he never complain
not so for humans
most steal what they need
robbed banks kill others
to suit their greed
others use their beauty their charms
to become somebody
then afterall runaway
breaking hearts without pity
learn from the spider.
learn from the spider
the value of industry
he never stops to spin and spin
until he is through
with its beautiful web
where he lies down and waits for a prey
not with humans
some do not love to work
they beg from others
they disguise as binds
they pretend they have nothig
and beg for alms
in front of synagoge
on hot, busy streets
learn from the spider
not from humans
fr spiders do not pretend
human does
poem by Villiamor Calventas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scene From The Future's Web
Gorilla, man, have played their innings out,
Freeway turned to grass without a doubt
Spider, which waited long, will reign supreme.
Sirens silent, mankind just dust done dream
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall all spiders scout
winging hummers, shawl fly caught, spun scheme
singing drummers' sprawl, spry sought fun theme!
(2 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fears And Phobias
We all have fears and phobias
over something or other.
There are many people who
fear spiders and other creepy crawlies.
While others fear snakes thinking them as slimy.
Some people have a phobia about cats and dogs
while other have a fear of flying.
I am no exception to this
and I have had mine too.
Once I had a fear of snakes
and I overcame that one
by going to a reptile house
where you can get up close.
I conquered mine in a big way
with a ten-foot boa constrictor.
When I was offered to hold it.
I put my nerves away
and said yes I would.
His weight almost sank me to my knees,
but I challenged my fears
and overcame them.
Flying was another thing that unsettled me,
and I overcame that too.
Now once a year
I fly for nine and a half hours to see friends.
One thing I would like to do,
but have not as yet,
which just the thought of it
would horrify my wife
and that is hold a spider.
Not just any old spider
as I have picked up plenty of them,
but one that is big and hairy,
a tarantula one day.
I sympathize with all those
with fears and phobias
having had my share too.
However, there is counselling
somewhere out there for them
with support groups so you can
talk your fears through.
My advice to everyone,
do not let your fears and phobias
get the better of you.
3 November 2011
Author’s Note:
Many people do not realise that a tarantula hairs are the things
you should watch out for, as some people are allergic to them.
It is one of the reasons why most zoological places that keep them
will not let you hold them. I found that out when I asked
if I could hold one.
DVH
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Website, spider style
Do spiders think? or simply learn
without a thought (well, lucky them)
by observation, as great scientists?
Does Nature do it all without a 'thought',
the spider just some robot, programmed thus?
The spider which the other day
built daring, acrobatic, gossamer bridge
across the path a guy-lined full six feet
so that to reach the gate, I had to genuflect
as if in some most holy church's aisle,
That bridge of San Luis Rey, already doomed
to break - the postman, paper boy, the milk -
I watched while seated in the sun for hours;
and as I watched, grew humbler by the minute;
myself the smaller in respect, the spider greater;
my lunch was cooking; the spider awaited (hers?) :
and we grew closer, in some unknown place in mind.
Today, a small, great miracle
of nature - who may be
beyond miracles; or yet bound in a web of law:
Neatly - thoughtfully? -
the web was now aligned
along the hedge of neighbours and ourselves.
And I was humbled by knowing nothing
worth a spider's web.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Spiders
Is the spider a monster in miniature?
His web is a cruel stair, to be sure,
Designed artfully, cunningly placed,
A delicate trap, carefully spun
To bind the fly (innocent or unaware)
In a net as strong as a chain or a gun.
There are far more spiders than the man in the street
supposes
And the philosopher-king imagines, let alone knows!
There are six hundred kinds of spiders and each one
Differs in kind and in unkindness.
In variety of behavior spiders are unrivalled:
The fat garden spider sits motionless, amidst or at the heart
Of the orb of its web: other kinds run,
Scuttling across the floor, falling into bathtubs,
Trapped in the path of its own wrath, by overconfidence
drowned and undone.
Other kinds - more and more kinds under the stars and
the sun -
Are carnivores: all are relentless, ruthless
Enemies of insects. Their methods of getting food
Are unconventional, numerous, various and sometimes
hilarious:
Some spiders spin webs as beautiful
As Japanese drawings, intricate as clocks, strong as rocks:
Others construct traps which consist only
Of two sticky and tricky threads. Yet this ambush is enough
To bind and chain a crawling ant for long
enough:
The famished spider feels the vibration
Which transforms patience into sensation and satiation.
The handsome wolf spider moves suddenly freely and relies
Upon lightning suddenness, stealth and surprise,
Possessing accurate eyes, pouncing upon his victim with the
speed of surmise.
Courtship is dangerous: there are just as many elaborate
and endless techniques and varieties
As characterize the wooing of more analytic, more
introspective beings: Sometimes the male
Arrives with the gift of a freshly caught fly.
Sometimes he ties down the female, when she is frail,
With deft strokes and quick maneuvres and threads of silk:
But courtship and wooing, whatever their form, are
informed
By extreme caution, prudence, and calculation,
For the female spider, lazier and fiercer than the male
suitor,
May make a meal of him if she does not feel in the same
mood, or if her appetite
Consumes her far more than the revelation of love's
consummation.
Here among spiders, as in the higher forms of nature,
The male runs a terrifying risk when he goes seeking for
the bounty of beautiful Alma Magna Mater:
Yet clearly and truly he must seek and find his mate and
match like every other living creature!
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Fear
Fear is a scary thought that we chose to ignore
What causes it we can't seem to be sure
How does fear get to us how does it start?
Why is it when we think we've over come it theres always another part?
Does fear ever go away does it ever leave us alone?
Or as soon as it's gone it comes rushing back and is once again shown
I'm sure we could live without it or at least try
But fear makes us who we are not knowing why
So what if we're scared of spiders or heights
Everyones scared of something otherwise we wouldn't be right
poem by Lisa French
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Spider web
There’s a spider web
of which parts got on your hair
and you are alarmed by it
and I take fine silk from your hair
while you look big eyed at me
and your lips are open
as if you are gasping for breath.
The wind blows a branch
whipping up and down,
but it’s unnoticed
by us both.
Your eyes are caught by the spider web
on which two spiders
are rocking in the wind
and I am caught,
with the look in your golden eyes
and your open lips that are inviting
and a small leave hanging on your cheek.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Spider Silk
Its lining is that of silk,
Like a from a spider,
For it their spiders are webbing
To determine for the workers to liven their salary.
To test an exam for the student,
Who lightens the silk for the dress he was given
By the tailor.
He exchanged the silk of a spider for its spit.
Spit has venom.
Student is dead from silk.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I like normal stuff people fear - like spiders and heights. I'm frightened by the unknown, by things that are hard to figure out and get a grip on.
quote by Haley Joel Osment
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Malade
The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window
The tassel of the blind swings gently, tapping the pane,
As a little wind comes in.
The room is the hollow rind of a fruit, a gourd
Scooped out and dry, where a spider,
Folded in its legs as in a bed,
Lies on the dust, watching where is nothing to see but twilight and walls.
And if the day outside were mine! What is the day
But a grey cave, with great grey spider-cloths hanging
Low from the roof, and the wet dust falling softly from them
Over the wet dark rocks, the houses, and over
The spiders with white faces, that scuttle on the floor of the cave!
I am choking with creeping, grey confinedness.
But somewhere birds, beside a lake of light, spread wings
Larger than the largest fans, and rise in a stream upwards
And upwards on the sunlight that rains invisible,
So that the birds are like one wafted feather,
Small and ecstatic suspended over a vast spread country.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Flying Spiders
Shhhh. Can you hear it?
Spinning all around us
Regaling and astounding thus
With acts of human kindness
That equally malign us
Stare into a spider's web
Captured in the neural ebb
A milky way of silken thread
With lines throughout the kingdom spread
Wait for the wedding day
Descend from the mountain tops
On silver strands of wire
Fly the spiders in the wind
You'll come running for them
You'll come running far and wide
You'll come running for them
You'll come running for a woven
Glimpse of what you are inside
Gave up when the dogma died
An act of faith personified
The spider binds the groom and bride
Their isolation nullified
Dangling from the usher's nose
The mother in law, her fancy clothes
The orchestra in puppet rows
The notes spun from viola bows
Oh, my sense of wonder
Nearly fills this body cage
A web of flesh and fibre
And a timeless sense of age
Wait for the wedding day
Descend from the mountain tops
On silver strands of wire
Fly the spiders in the wind
Open up your eyes and then
You will see what defines us when
Spinning all around us
Regaling and astounding thus
Captured in the neural ebb
And strangled in the spider's web.
poem by Steven Webster
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Farewell
by Bob Dylan
Oh it's fare thee well my darlin' true,
I'm leavin' in the first hour of the morn.
I'm bound off for the bay of Mexico
Or maybe the coast of Californ.
So it's fare thee well my own true love,
We'll meet another day, another time.
It ain't the leavin'
That's a-grievin' me
But my true love who's bound to stay behind.
Oh the weather is against me and the wind blows hard
And the rain she's a-turnin' into hail.
I still might strike it lucky on a highway goin' west,
Though I'm travelin' on a path beaten trail.
So it's fare thee well my own true love,
We'll meet another day, another time.
It ain't the leavin'
That's a-grievin' me
But my true love who's bound to stay behind.
I will write you a letter from time to time,
As I'm ramblin' you can travel with me too.
With my head, my heart and my hands, my love,
I will send what I learn back home to you.
So it's fare thee well my own true love,
We'll meet another day, another time.
It ain't the leavin'
That's a-grievin' me
But my true love who's bound to stay behind.
I will tell you of the laughter and of troubles,
Be them somebody else's or my own.
With my hands in my pockets and my coat collar high,
I will travel unnoticed and unknown.
So it's fare thee well my own true love,
We'll meet another day, another time.
It ain't the leavin'
That's a-grievin' me
But my true love who's bound to stay behind.
I've heard tell of a town where I might as well be bound,
It's down around the old Mexican plains.
They say that the people are all friendly there
And all they ask of you is your name.
So it's fare thee well my own true love,
We'll meet another day, another time.
It ain't the leavin'
That's a-grievin' me
But my true love who's bound to stay behind.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spider
'OH, look at that great ugly spider!' said Ann;
And screaming, she brush'd it away with her fan;
''Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be,
I wish that it would not come crawling on me. '
'Indeed,' said her mother, 'I'll venture to say,
The poor thing will try to keep out of your way;
For after the fright, and the fall, and the pain,
It has much more occasion than you to complain.
'But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear?
If it hurt you, there'd be some excuse for your fear;
But its little black legs, as it hurried away,
Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say.
'For them to fear us we must grant to be just,
Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust;
But certainly we have no cause for alarm;
For, were they to try, they could do us no harm.
'Now look! it has got to its home; do you see
What a delicate web it has spun in the tree?
Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you:
Come learn from this spider what patience can do!
'And when at your business you're tempted to play,
Recollect what you see in this insect to-day,
Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true,
That a poor little spider is wiser than you. '
poem by Ann Taylor
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