Best Gullets Poems

On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.

With the crew so...

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Lmerick crochetés : Once a Teacher who didn't like school

Once a Teacher who didn't like school
Since his kids kept calling him a fool
Wished to do himself in
Lost control of discipline
All day his class looked like a swimming pool

To this Land of the Bow and Arrow
Came...

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on the ****ing over of Chelsea Welch

let’s begin with what a waitress does in a day…
a waitress works her ass off,
forced to have the biggest smile in the world
for every miserable ****, every fat american
family with its screaming & misbehaving
rugrats, who come in to shovel...

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We stand prepared for battle, our pikes thrusted toward the gullets of our adversaries.

Hastily we aim to strike down all we oppose.

Our nemeses match us with a fervor that scorches redder than our own flames of rage.

They perceive us a threat to their very ethos.

Slashing...

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Maybe a serial killer, the crows cawed to each other.
This was agreed upon by the vole and the vole’s mother.
I think he’s just a great horned owl, a good guy, I said.
However, I did not know all the murderous books that he read.

He studied forensics,...

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It was high noon in Dodge City, Kansas on that hot and sultry day.
The sheriff was makin' his leisurely rounds on Old Dan, his faithful bay.
Rowdy cowpokes was wettin' their gullets tossin' whiskey down.
That mornin' they'd herded their steers to the railhead jes' east of...

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Who would feed the cubs?
Those that shall one day be scrubs,
The land that hurts but weaken,
The life of the poverty stricken,

Who would shelter the pullets?
With tongues spinning spits of fear down their gullets,
Quils that gather and habour,
Drink from no gourd of splendor,

Who would hunt for...

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Here, at The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, 

Poetrysoup is on the menu! 

And to save our sacred website, perhaps the world ...

We must entertain and enter vague conspicuous contests 
With a true Vogon vocabulary intent on an unworthy saving ... 
Or suffer...

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IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY…

                      VII

If ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Keeper of the keys to the Treasury
I'd...

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When life seems an arduous desert trek
When black blizzards sweep past us
When our gullets stick like plastic with no moisture
It is then we look for God- our oasis
We wonder where he is hiding

When darkness invades our surroundings
When we have to travel alone the long lone...

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COPLA CUARENTA Y SEIS: This Bad Guy World

Religious hate-mongers pullulate
Gullets stuffed full make laymen loathe:
Sacred totem

Even football wins dedicate
« To Country, Race and team-mates’ Faith! »:
Sport’s anathème

When prayers rise from stadium grounds
For wins against rival teams’ gods:
Holy Crusade

Who plays whom on consecrated grounds
Little gods dribble balls with...

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dear Canada,
dear France,
dear Australia,
dear UK &
to the other countries of the
world who are in the
process of using their
governmental structure to
alleviate the 
health care catastrophes
within their own borders,
by taking up the whole of
the financial burden to
provide their own citizens
with the ability to stay
healthy,
without becoming broke &
destitute,...

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I see it in cubes cast
And chiefly featuring in breakfast;
In Bread and cake harboured
And in plantains and cereals honoured…

Also in my tea that would gullets pass through,
Its presence in oats holding true.

I see it in packs neatly filled
In layers arranged and sealed,
Each one of them...

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“taste” …

she whispered
making sure the “s” lingered on her
tongue like syrup …
I needed no instruction,
but her plea was proper music, nonetheless
prelude to pleasurable murmurings from
both our gullets,
though I put the vibrations of my low,
rumbling moan to good use
(as any obsequious scoundrel should)
her squeaky sigh wrapping
my...

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What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.

Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.

Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life and death.
Gullets gulp down then wide wings
swim on.

Indoor cats stare...

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