thy worldith isith thy canvasith.
thy painterith thy paintith.
thy poetith, makeith thy poetith.
thy worldith thy endith.
chickenith jockeyith.
strongest cloven fiend
a face adored by Venus
beautiful bestial body
so loved by God in Genesis
take the crimson string
tied upon his velvety hide
red thread cuts the skin
ankles bound for the ride
hoisted on the mantle
an all engulfing spiral
upon pearlescent horns
blackish fur of desire
dark red heart
beating at his side
a full blooded kiss
could never be denied
In Manipur's lush forests so bright,
Khamba and Nongban ventured with delight,
Seeking blooms to adorn with care,
An altar to Lord Thangjing, their hearts were sworn to share.
Through dense woods, Khamba's path did wind,
Wildflowers' scent and earth's damp design,
Birds sang sweet, leaves rustled free,
A waterfall's roar, a sight to see.
A towering tree, with orchids so fine,
Hanging elegantly, a divine sign,
Khamba's eyes widened, wonder did shine,
As Nongban's gaze, with envy did entwine.
With care, Khamba plucked the bloom so rare,
Petals shimmering, like Lai Haraoba's glare,
Nongban's eyes gleamed, admiration did show,
Khamba felt wonder, in nature's gentle flow.
One More Cow, One More Sow
Another acre cultivated
By a shining plough
The farmer’s son takes off his hat
Wiping the sweat from his brow
Their productive loans are being called in
Lives changed at the financier’s whim
To survive, they’ll work for life and limb
Yet their malnourished bones are wearing thin
The processor purchases milk below cost
And no buyers for our fields of maize
It looks like all hope is now lost
It seems, rarely these days
That honest work ever pays
One More Cow, One More Sow
We are coming closer, acre by acre
Until we use our Starry Plough
Let’s grow a harvest from the soil
And struggle living from our toil
I couldn't give a toss for the caber
cromach bagpipes sporran or kilt
(a fling's the thing)
and you can stick your dirk in your haggis
up to its bog-wood hilt
yet I'd like to hike through the heather
on happy Sassenach holidays
see the scenery admire the view
along Scottish hilly highways and byways
to pick a pink-purple thistle or two
and should I come upon a hairy Highland cow
on the hoof in a friendly farmer's flink fold
(for protection from the cold)
in no uncertain terms I would declare
"I say to you, hoo noo broon coo?"
och aye no sooner said than done
than perchance from the Caledonian bovine one
the reply too true in a Scots burr would come...
'Moo!'
Hey diddle diddle
there's no more riddle
I'm a fast learner
I now know how
the cow jumped over the moon
from her afterburner
by methane expelled
through the air she's propelled
the little dog barfed to smell such sport
as the gas blown away made him swoon
As some Indians
(dot, not feather)
go to great lengths
to ingratiate themselves
by obsequious behaviour
(bob your head if you agree with me)
could it be the origin
of the expression,
'To curry favour'?
Tho' hunger knows no bounds
forget the fatted calf
despite the nation suffering
from starvation by more than half
they'll curry a horse
but not a cow
those bovine ungulates
are holier than thou
How I met Josie
I met Josie at the Black Cow
a watering hole for singles
pair of jade Green Earrings
adorned her ears
and drew my eye
we talked about our pasts
spent time Reelin’ In the Years
found out she had gone to Bard College
which was My Old School and
we enjoyed a Time Out of Mind
we watched the Baylon Sisters
sing Pretzel Logic, when they were done
the crowd shouted Do It Again
all waitresses were assigned a number, ours was nineteen
whenever we needed more drinks we yelled
Hey Nineteen!
The path we all cross,
The humans taking it over,
We have no place to go,
We have not a home,
We have not a pasture,
We have not a farm,
We have not a barn,
We have not our charm,
Bonded together like ducks in a row,
All we want to know,
Is how to find a home,
One not too small,
One not too big,
One not too tiny,
One not too thin,
One the humans can’t take,
Like mail from a box,
But one we can call our own,
So we don’t turn to meat,
So we don’t turn to dust,
One with metal,
That takes long to rust,
So we can live together,
So it’s not me,
So it's us,
So that we can feel safe in the hay that we lay,
We wish to find a home in the day,
If we find that place at night,
The owners might have a fright,
Do we really want that to happen,
Or do we just want to live with a passion,
Like the humans can do,
But were not seen,
As human to you,
Because we are only cows,
Cows that go moo.
Let us take a road trip,
now off with bags and zip.
Snow covers the wide road,
no grass here to be mowed.
Cow riding the tractor,
is it a huge actor?
Why is it so pleasant to think back in time
‘specially as we near the end of the line
Do we treasure our innocence, our youthful naivete
or unlike Bessie the cow, we know what comes next
Stupid she stands, flies near her eyes congregate
I would not be a cow for all the tea in Tibet
And yet… Why can’t I just live for today, like all the songs say
I guess tomorrow’s too gloomy, ergo I run far away
I saw her in a meadow high
Where red flowers touch the sky
Her eyes were mournful, so much inside
I looked within, skepticism died
(chorus)
I'm in love with a big blue cow
And a big blue cow loves me
She don't have a job, but she survives
Without that college degree
She don't take drugs, and she don't drink
We agree about politics, I think.
I used to date a gal, who talked a storm
But I felt cold, I had to feel warm
I wanted a date who understood me
This cow is electric, I touched the fence, and I see.
Now its the wrong species, my parents would plea
But species is what I say it must be
In Kindergarten, they indoctrinated me
with a gender book, for kids aged three
At this point, you might say I'm moronic
But true love is always platonic
over 28 percent of young women say they are gay
I think that society made them that way
So don't laugh at me when I avow
eternal affection for my big blue cow
I'll go to the meadow, and gaze in her eyes
where bees buzz, and the condor cries
You may say I believe what I want to believe
But who doesn't, and love can't deceive.
upon the Rase a troublesome crone
who meddled in the Rasen folk
for she a witch!
a witch! their slant and well
she laid upon a cow a cursied blight
a cursied spell
and lo would not this neighbour’s cow
go to the milking parlour so
this neighbour’s daughter fraught and fair
to seek a wise man, she that hour
left in haste to hear of words
and met with him though quite by chance
for he appeared to her when needed
invited in somewhat expected
and knew did he of her unrest
as heating in the fireplace a red hot poker
readying
and stoked, enflamed the fire roared
and from by the Rase the witch was heard
to scream and cry
you see now in her weakened state
another troubled Rasener
took heed upon the lowered crone
and struck her hand with a blade had he
and brought to her all of her eves
that drew the blood of taintedness
and scream once more
then again made three
no more trouble will she cause
said the wiseman confidently
and the witch skulked away
her powers lost
made free were then the Rasen folk
and the cow went in to give them milk
Mad cow disease is my expertise,
and I dine on fine wine, quince and cheese.
In my august wisdom,
what I sure think is dumb,
is to spit without checking the breeze.
I see you through the purple flowers.
Heart churning in your chest.
Sitting cross legged, pumped with powers.
Crowning chastity through your crest.
Wildflowers hear your song, for it is their song too.
The bumblebee lies atop your head, buzzing with the tune.
Cows grazing in the field below begin to sway and moo.
Red and orange songbirds stretch the notes over the moon.
Time slows its senseless clock then stops the endless ticking.
It slowly finds the rhythm and is syncing.
Heart beating with the moon and the cows and flower pickings.
The moment when the universe is winking.
I will look for you tomorrow and even yesterday.
But I can only find you now, ME, TODAY.
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