The Return Of The Giant Hogweed
Turn and run!
Nothing can stop them,
Around every river and canal their power is growing.
Stamp them out!
We must destroy them,
They infiltrate each city with their thick dark warning odour.
They are invincible,
They seem immune to all our herbicidal battering.
Long ago in the russian hills,
A victorian explorer found the regal hogweed by a marsh,
He captured it and brought it home.
Botanical creature stirs, seeking revenge.
Royal beast did not forget.
He came home to london,
And made a present of the hogweed to the royal gardens at kew.
Waste no time!
They are approaching.
Hurry now, we must protect ourselves and find some shelter
Strike by night!
They are defenceless.
They all need the sun to photosensitize their venom.
Still theyre invincible,
Still theyre immune to all our herbicidal battering.
Fashionable country gentlemen had some cultivated wild gardens,
In which they innocently planted the giant hogweed throughout the land.
Botanical creature stirs, seeking revenge.
Royal beast did not forget.
Soon they escaped, spreading their seed,
Preparing for an onslaught, threatening the human race.
The dance of the giant hogweed
Mighty hogweed is avenged.
Human bodies soon will know our anger.
Kill them with your hogweed hairs
Heracleum mantegazziani
Giant hogweed lives
- advance -
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Destroy, Destroy, Destroy
The battle of the beast.
A creature that only knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.
It entered the world as nothing more then a mere boy.
Cold and abandoned.
The exiled one.
He knows no love.
He is what no one wants to become.
He lives off of lust and blood.
A pain felt hundred times worse then living on the brink of death.
All he does is fight.
Morning till night.
The battle of the beast.
A creature that only knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.
Abused,
constantly confused.
Trust no one.
Get close and suffer.
The forgotten lover.
Neglected and rejected.
And that has created his own protection.
A self projection of what seems sincere.
A wall wrapped up like spider web.
he waits patiently for his victims.
He doesn't show any leniency.
The battle of the beast.
A creature that only knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.
The deception is his human form.
Hell rip you apart.
Hell tear out your heart.
When he feast its best to retreat.
For him their is no bias.
He hates all as equals.
No taking pity on one over another.
The battle of the beast.
A creature who knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.
He doesn't pillage or plunder.
He decimates and devastates.
He burns entire societies to ground with his anger.
Which causes the constant quake.
The battle of the beast.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Creature Is This
What creature is this,
That decides to begin explicit conflicts?
Doing things the opposite...
And spreading contagious disease.
That feeds on hypocrisy,
With such amazing ease!
What creature is this,
Existing in our midst?
Allow to persist with displays of sickness!
Poisonous is the water...
And the air this 'thing' pollutes!
Unsatisfied with its reflection seen...
It destroys anything Mother Nature 'salutes'.
What creature is this,
That can not sit to fit in?
Why is it like a cancer spreading,
With no cure to stop its end!
What creature is this,
With a mind that defines?
And looking for a way,
To slay all goodness that it finds!
What creature is this...
Insisting to plant chaos remembered,
And not to be left behind!
What creature IS this?
Making attempts...
To discourage wishes of peace,
It declines!
What beast is this watched...
As it craves with venom seeking to unwind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Royal Family
Royal parents,
Royal birth,
Royal relationship,
Royal love,
Royal wedding,
Royal pregnancy,
Royal child,
Royal family;
Roya, loyal! !
The lineage,
The history,
The heritage;
Nancy, pregnancy!
Line, lineage;
And, you still have her in your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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African Giant
Across the plains of Africa, elephants come and go,
There lives this mighty superstar, that most have come to know.
This is no small thing you can pet or treat as if a child...
For he's as tall as you can get and sometimes he gets wild!
If he runs at you all at once, don't stand there, waiting, friend!
Don't wave to him and act the dunce, for soon, your life will end!
This creature's one you won't forget! He'll dance upon your grave!
To run away, that's your best bet, if your life you would save!
African giant, please stay there! Let's keep things peaceful now.
You're big enough to show some care, to let me live somehow...
I won't approach your giant frame or challenge you to fight...
Let common wisdom be our aim and please, let's stay polite!
The plains are big enough for us... The sun is way too hot...
And running's such an awful fuss and in the end, for what?
You'd be upset! I'd be upset! And each would look the fool...
No need for us to build a sweat... Let's choose to play it cool.
Relax! Calm down! OK, alright! Breathe in and out. That's good.
You're doing great! It's out of sight. You see, I knew you could!
I'm not the kind to hurt a fly... Let's settle down, OK?
Let's watch each moment pass us by... Let's both enjoy the day...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Giant'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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I Was At Hastings Gardens And I Saw
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
High, high above and stretching through the stars
The giant Night crawling inexorably
The sea ebbed and flowed all quietly
While giant Night crawled inexorably
Across the marbled blue of heaven’s dome.
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
Nigh, nigh around, around me turn and churn
A mist full-hovering around and like a net
Incorporating all it met: grey like a phantom
Stood the Night
Like a grey thief in phantom’s garbs full dressed.
I was at Hastings Gardens and I saw
A sickle huge scar heaven’s face
And spreading horror like a scimitar
Amidst the nebulae amidst the stars
And of a sudden me thought that I heard
A cry pervasive high across the skies
Lo cometh Night make way, make way
I looked in motion saw the sickle huge
Like clouds spreading over heaven’s whole
Is it the Night? Is it The Night?
Is Night a moving sickle in heaven’s face?
No reply to me came; and from the ravelin
Two old oaks whispering in the night I heard.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The Royal Scam
And they wandered in
From the city of st. john
Without a dime
Wearing coats that shined
Both red and green
Colors from their sunny island
From their boats of iron
They looked upon the promised land
Where surely life was sweet
On the rising tide
To new york city
Did they ride into the street
See the glory
Of the royal scam
They are hounded down
To the bottom of a bad town
Amid the ruins
Where they learn to fear
An angry race of fallen kings
Their dark companions
While the memory of
Their southern sky was clouded by
A savage winter
Every patron saint
Hung on the wall, shared the room
With twenty sinners
See the glory
Of the royal scam
By the blackened wall
He does it all
He thinks hes died and gone to heaven
Now the tale is told
By the old man back home
He reads the letter
How they are paid in gold
Just to babble in the back room
All night and waste their time
And they wandered in
From the city of st. john without a dime
See the glory
Of the royal scam
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Auld Triangle
A hungry feeling
Came oer me stealing
And the mice were squeeling
In my prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! to start the morning
The warden bawling
Get up out of bed, you! and clean out your cell!
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! the screw was peeping
And the loike was sleeping
As he lay weeping
For his girl sal
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
On a fine spring evening
The loike lay dreaming
And the sea-gulls were wheeling
High above the wall
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! the wind was sighing
And the day was dying
As the loike lay crying
In his prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-bloody-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
In the womens prison
There are seventy women
And I wish it was with them
That I did dwell
Then that auld triangle could go jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im A Rebel
They say I wont make it to the top of the hill
Wont take the fruit of a tree
And evrybody says Im out for the kill
Theyre all laughing at me
Theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
And theyre all laughing at me
They say Im a danger to the public and all
I only wish they would see
Im just a product of a screwed up world - but theyre all
Theyre all laughing at me
But theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
But theyre all laughing at me
Never ever wash my old blue jeans
And brush the smile off my face
But still Im a member of the
Human race - human race - human race - human race
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel - dont you just know it
Im a rebel - rebel
And theyre all laughing at me
Im a rebel
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Give It To Me
Your life is full of misery
Well take something for it
Or try to ignore it, don't give it to me
You trapped me in this corner
You're breathing it over me
Next stop's the Royal Infirmary
The room's started spinning
I'm finding it hard to breath
I think I'll have to leave, I need some air
That little black cloud
That follows you everywhere's
Floating my way and it's raining despair
Now I'm not immune to misery myself
But it's just a bore in somebody else
If you weren't allowed to talk of yourself
You would have nothing to say
Your life if full of misery
Well take something for it
Or try to ignore it, don't give it to me
Your life is full of misery
Well take something for it
Or try to ignore it, don't give it to me
You trapped me in this corner
You're breathing it over me
Next stop's the Royal Infirmary
Now I'm not immune etc...
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Should Human Beings Abort?
Even the beasts that roam the streets
Stay protected by society!
The luckier ones, tasty food greets,
As home inmates shower pity!
Yet, human children seldom find
A home within the human womb;
Life willed by God, must some rescind,
And kill the unborn by aplomb?
All human lives are equal made
By God, the Omnipotent One;
The murders in the womb can’t fade:
By parent’s choice, God’s work’s undone!
No man would seed a fertile soil,
Destroying crops when sprout, seedlings?
Such frenzied acts make God’s blood boil –
What treachery by ‘sane’ earthlings!
The tortured cries of unborn seek
Revenge by God, when parents kill;
The blood of human lambs spilt, weak
A mighty lake in size could fill!
The cemetery of unborn lives
Grows bigger than all those who die!
Should human love become like knives,
And kill their little neighbors nigh?
Within the womb, the tiny tot
Destined as future offspring stays;
But men / women empty the cot,
And cut life’s thread in umpteen ways!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-14-2009
poem by John Celes
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Long Walk Home
If you see liberty tell her I will
Buy her windows on the hill
Laud her flowers on the sill
Till they grow higher and higher.
If liberty was a little girl
Watching all the flags unfurl
Standing at the big parade
How would she like us now?
We balance the power
From hour to hour
Giant guns rage
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home.
From vietnam to old beirut
If we are searching for the truth
Why do we feel that double-edged blade
Cutting through our hand.
America, america
Where have we gone?
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home.
We balance the power
From hour to hour
Giant guns rage
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home
Its such a long walk home.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Sampson Of Brandywine
'In the fight at Brandywine, Black Samson, a giant negro armed with
a scythe, sweeps his way through the red ranks....' C. M. Skinner's
'_Myths and Legends of Our Own Land_.'
Gray are the pages of record,
Dim are the volumes of eld;
Else had old Delaware told us
More that her history held.
Told us with pride in the story,
Honest and noble and fine,
More of the tale of my hero,
Black Samson of Brandywine.
Sing of your chiefs and your nobles,
Saxon and Celt and Gaul,
Breath of mine ever shall join you,
Highly I honor them all.
Give to them all of their glory,
But for this noble of mine,
Lend him a tithe of your tribute,
Black Samson of Brandywine.
There in the heat of the battle,
There in the stir of the fight,
Loomed he, an ebony giant,
Black as the pinions of night.
Swinging his scythe like a mower
Over a field of grain,
Needless the care of the gleaners,
Where he had passed amain.
Straight through the human harvest,
Cutting a bloody swath,
Woe to you, soldier of Briton!
Death is abroad in his path.
Flee from the scythe of the reaper,
Flee while the moment is thine,
None may with safety withstand him,
Black Samson of Brandywine.
Was he a freeman or bondman?
Was he a man or a thing?
What does it matter? His brav'ry
Renders him royal--a king.
If he was only a chattel,
Honor the ransom may pay
Of the royal, the loyal black giant
Who fought for his country that day.
Noble and bright is the story,
Worthy the touch of the lyre,
Sculptor or poet should find it
Full of the stuff to inspire.
Beat it in brass and in copper,
Tell it in storied line,
So that the world may remember
Black Samson of Brandywine.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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One Giant Step For Mankind
For mankind what was that one giant step?
Hopefully we’ll find records accurately kept.
Let us carefully check the pages of history.
The famous walk on the moon, could it be?
The laying down one’s life for you and me,
Now that’s the one giant step I find it to be.
On a quest, leaving his Father and his home,
Venturing to a different location on his own,
Having all one could desire, then to depart,
Most would say, well that’s not too smart.
From heavenly home to earth He did step,
At home to himself, He could have kept,
To all the loving ways of the Ancient teach,
The plateau of nirvana he wills us to reach.
No left; No right; straight and narrow walk,
Ever only truth speak, never any vain talk.
The evil forces of satan He did enslave,
Victorious over death, hell and the grave,
The only giant step settled in this mind,
The one my Savior made is the one I find!
poem by Joseph Blitch
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A Dragon and a Hero
Note: This is a two-part acrostic poem.
Death and destruction descends like a storm -
...creature of legend and mythical form.
Reaping the lives of the women and men -
...flames of the winged one scorching their skin.
Agony, terror and hopelessness reigns -
...children are crying with fear in their veins.
Giant and scaly, with hell colored eyes,
...beast of the ancient rains fire from the skies.
Only the strongest survive the attack -
...dreading the day that the creature comes back.
No man or weapon has challenged the scourge.
...hope that a hero will someday emerge.
Hope brings a hero to vanquish a beast.
Evil had driven its blood thirsty feast.
Ruthless and epic - the battle campaign.
Ode to the hero - the dragon is slain.
poem by Xillus Xavier
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The Winds Message
There came a whisper down the Bland between the dawn and dark,
Above the tossing of the pines, above the river's flow;
It stirred the boughs of giant gums and stalwart iron-bark;
It drifted where the wild ducks played amid the swamps below;
It brought a breath of mountain air from off the hills of pine,
A scent of eucalyptus trees in honey-laden bloom;
And drifting, drifting far away along the Southern line
It caught from leaf and grass and fern a subtle strange perfume.
It reached the toiling city folk, but few there were that heard--
The rattle of their busy life had choked the whisper down;
And some but caught a fresh-blown breeze with scent of pine that stirred
A thought of blue hills far away beyond the smoky town;
And others heard the whisper pass, but could not understand
The magic of the breeze's breath that set their hearts aglow,
Nor how the roving wind could bring across the Overland
A sound of voices silent now and songs of long ago.
But some that heard the whisper clear were filled with vague unrest;
The breeze had brought its message home, they could not fixed abide;
Their fancies wandered all the day towards the blue hills' breast,
Towards the sunny slopes that lie along the riverside,
The mighty rolling western plains are very fair to see,
Where waving to the passing breeze the silver myalls stand,
But fairer are the giant hills, all rugged though they be,
From which the two great rivers rise that run along the Bland.
Oh! rocky range and rugged spur and river running clear,
That swings around the sudden bends with swirl of snow-white foam,
Though we, your sons are far away, we sometimes seem to hear
The message that the breezes bring to call the wanderers home.
The mountain peaks are white with snow that feeds a thousand rills,
Along the rive banks the maize grows tall on virgin land,
And we shall live to see once more those sunny southern hills,
And strike once more the bridle track that leads along the Bland.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Ant Farm life won't make you happy
Over the short years,
we've fired comments at each other
that were like deadly darts
in the skin of some clever animal,
long-ago immune, only faking tears
And
I will
be a
slightly evolved animal
until my dying day.
At least, it was so
until he threw an untainted spear into my ribs!
'You're too honest.'
As if deception was his immunity!
As if lies should be at the dart's end!
So offensive was my naivete,
thinking the dishonestly truly a poison.
What years had really happened?
'Don't be so hard on yourself.'
he tells me as if I shook with fear,
like you'd tell weakling to fool it.
He'd drown Socrates,
just so we can live like we're in a giant ant farm!
Now he calls,
at least once a day,
but he doesn't realize
he is not calling not that faintly human creature,
but a woman dead to him
and his unexamined, worthless life...
poem by Delilah Miller
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Darknlovely
There is a place
On hearts motherland
Where a people
Die in bantu stands
Manchild at eight
Will face guns of hate
Womanchilds fate
Is life second rate
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
They do a dance
Called mbaqana jive
Rainbow people
Dancin to stay alive
After hours
Party hand in hand
After shebeen
Terror strikes again
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely
The whole planets watchin
And the sun God is watchin, too
Hey there botha
Yes, we are watcin you
Spirits can do
Jah will stop this reign
Watch our world turn
To help those in pain
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Just because theyre dark n lovely
Dark n lovely dark n lovely
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Magnificence
Imagine one day, if you will,
In some far distant land,
You had to climb a giant hill
And on it there to stand...
Then all at once, you saw the beast,
As calm as he could be...
A regal lion to the east!
His royal majesty!
Exquisitely blessed by moonlight,
Within his robe and gown!
Adorned in pure albino white,
With snowflakes for his crown...
He needs no sword, he needs no shield,
He needs no sage advice...
With all that strength, he'll never yield!
His heart is cold as ice!
I'd watch my step, if I were you...
No sudden moves at all...
Yeah, right! I know what I would do!
I'd run and wouldn't stall...
I've only one life! He's got nine!
I'd soon be on my way!
At some things, I must draw the line!
Good evening and good day!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Magnificence'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Horrible Dream
I'm in a garden
When a giant beast barges in
I look to the beauty to my side
'I'll protect you behind the tree go hide! '
The mutt charges at me
Hmmm he missed? or could it be
A lonely dogg trying to befriend me
Looking for fun
Thats when the beauty tosses me a gun
'Kill him he's wild' she screams
I hit him over the head
repeatedly til he's dead
ugh.. horrible dreams
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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The Dorchester Giant
THERE was a giant in time of old,
A mighty one was he;
He had a wife, but she was a scold,
So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold;
And he had children three.
It happened to be an election day,
And the giants were choosing a king;
The people were not democrats then,
They did not talk of the rights of men,
And all that sort of thing.
Then the giant took his children three,
And fastened them in the pen;
The children roared; quoth the giant, "Be still!"
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill
Rolled back the sound again.
Then he brought them a pudding stuffed with plums,
As big as the State-House dome;
Quoth he, "There's something for you to eat;
So stop your mouths with your 'lection treat,
And wait till your dad comes home."
So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout,
And whittled the boughs away;
The boys and their mother set up a shout.
Said he, "You're in, and you can't get out,
Bellow as loud as you may."
Off he went, and he growled a tune
As he strode the fields along
'Tis said a buffalo fainted away,
And fell as cold as a lump of clay,
When he heard the giant's song.
But whether the story's true or not,
It isn't for me to show;
There's many a thing that's twice as queer
In somebody's lectures that we hear,
And those are true, you know.
. . . . . .
What are those lone ones doing now,
The wife and the children sad?
Oh, they are in a terrible rout,
Screaming, and throwing their pudding about,
Acting as they were mad.
They flung it over to Roxbury hills,
They flung it over the plain,
And all over Milton and Dorchester too
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw;
They tumbled as thick as rain.
. . . . .
Giant and mammoth have passed away,
For ages have floated by;
The suet is hard as a marrow-bone,
And every plum is turned to a stone,
But there the puddings lie.
And if, some pleasant afternoon,
You'll ask me out to ride,
The whole of the story I will tell,
And you shall see where the puddings fell,
And pay for the punch beside.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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