Best Pesticide Poems
You flit around the marshes and in places warm and wet.
as a beetle you’re about as bright as any bug can get!
You have a tiny flashlight built into your small tummy,
but for foes, your bio-luminescence is not yummy!
Though when a creature tastes you, they’re sure to spit you out,
There’s something even better that your light is all about!
You’re looking for a sweetie when you flash your little glow,
and when you synchronize in groups, it’s like a disco show!
How I loved to chase you when I was just a kid,
and I’d catch you in a jar with holes poked in its lid.
That wasn’t nice of me. It must have caused you fright.
You were only lending magic to my summer night.
How I miss you, lightning bug, known as firefly.
And how I wish that I could see you in this western sky.
Even in the Midwest state that I left behind
I hear you are becoming more difficult to find.
Too many fields paved over; no places you can hide.
Too many lights from people and too much pesticide.
People use their headlights; this is confusing you.
Your blinking light gets all mixed up. You don’t know what to do.
Fewer are the places where, dear firefly, you can stay.
How sorry we will all be when your magic fades away!
Written July 16, 2016 for the contest of David Lindsay
SIR CONRAD
The great explorer Sir Conrad Justine
Disappeared and was never again seen
Got too near the edge
Slipped on the ledge
Fell two thousand feet in to a ravine...
JIMMY
A bottle Jimmy found at the roadside
Drank it all and was lucky he survived
Didn't read the label
Was drunk wasn't able
It wasn't whiskey but neat pesticide...
FRANK
Old Frank went for a ride on a rickshaw
To visit the ancient sights at Mingtaw
Was having a good day
Until the seat gave way
His rear dragged on the ground till it was raw...
BO PEEP
A Shepherd girl called little bo peep
Was so drunk that she soon fell asleep
But it wasn't her day
She woke up in dismay
The wolves had eaten all of her sheep...
PETE
In a rain coat was the flasher called Pete
He loved flashing all his bits in the street
Girls said its too lame
So Pete upped his game
He bought a strapon that hangs to his feet...
JOHN BECK
A sexy stud by the name of John Beck
Below had trouble cried out flipping heck
He took some blue pills
To give girls their thrills
But all it did was give him a stiff neck...
Written 14 September 2019.
It’s not easy to be a bee
Our crowded view of life
Sometimes the only things I see
Are trouble, toil and strife
We search to find the source of food
Then hurry to the hive
We hype the others in the mood
With waggle dance and jive
The queen, protected and aloof
Not like all the others
She is the sign and living proof
When smoke comes and smothers
Work and waggle, my daily chore
Then search a place to hide
Being a bee is so much more
When dodging pesticide
I’m a worker, and not a drone
I hope that you can see
When you harvest sweet honeycomb
It tough being a bee
Let’s take this outside
Your turn to be objectified
Necktied offside and brutified
Come step outside
Where you can no longer hide
Now you and me can collide
You’re worse than godzilla’s bride
Torpefied and vilified
Uglified, mean and evil-eyed
Always snide and undignified
Ringside, in your false pride
the eyes of Hitler recognized
Executing his genocide
Feeling justified nationwide
Lately I’ve been preoccupied
With thoughts of homicide
Accident by countryside
broadside you flip side
See you land in the fireside
For all the misery aside
you put me through - testified
Is your meanness really classified
I’m no longer taking it - qualified
I‘m no longer hiding it - quantified
No more excuses - are you satisfied?
Germicide and pesticide
Have you ever tried
To drink a ton of formaldehyde
To soften up your cowhide
Now we can go back inside
Your reign of terror on override
You’re toast and you’re fried
You’re been hogtied and humanified
Stupefied and rectified
Just as prophesized
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on May 16, 2018 for contest 8-MILE STYLE POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NICK TRIM - RANKED 4TH
Little Miss Muffet
(Modern Version)
Little Miss Muffit sat on her tushy
Eating her curds and whey.
A great big spider sat down beside her
And was killed by a pesticide spray.
Barry Stebbings
18/6/2916
(Not really in favour of killing spiders)
Ricky looked like a bandit ,for across his face
was a wide black mask that he never could erase.
See, Ricky was a critter who was born that way,
and to think folks hated him caused him great dismay.
Often Ricky wondered why God had made him look
like what he was born to be: just a common crook!
Other critters that he knew got to look so sweet -
like that kitty he once saw living down the street.
She got fed and got to live in a pretty house -
Not like Sam, the alley cat. That cat dined on “mouse.”
Dogs lived indoors often too, sitting on folks’ laps,
hiding under people’s chairs, sneaking table scraps.
But let HIM be caught just once sneaking one small scrap
in a human’s yard or house; then they’d set a trap!
One house had a door for pets. Good food was inside.
Folks caught on and left for him nasty pesticide.
Ricky didn’t fall for that, but it left him sad.
He just wanted to be loved - not thought of as bad.
Kitty one day wandered out from her house too far.
Ricky saw that poor Kitty got struck by a car.
Quickly Ricky grabbed her up, and he carried her
to her door, where he collapsed. All became a blur……
When he woke, he saw Kitty near him, safe and sound
and the human parents, their children all around.
“Can we pet him?” one kid said. Mother shook her head.
But the smallest reached out to pat his raccoon head.
Kitty nuzzled him. The kids said, “He’ll be our pet!”
Dad said, “This is strange, but I’ll check this with the vet.”
As it turns out, Ricky now stays in a small shed
in the family’s yard and each day by them is fed.
Ricky tells his outdoor pals, “I have a sister!
A kitty and a sister too. She’s my kid kitster!”
For the story poem contest of Carol Eastman
Heading for the next election,
Votes vied for by vicarious politicians,
Who are we all voting for?
Is it for their superannuation? Or,
Streamlining services to sway us,
Does Oz really need such fuss?
We're walking on the winning side,
Let's have some more Hi-fives!
Debates due to direction,
Teen brain selfie obsessions,
These are our politicians,
It's a short, amusing ride,
Someone pass vicarious pesticide!!!
Wood chew believe aye took stock...?
Upon a whim, an endeavor
arose to communicate
cumulative key whatchamacallit,
yea...nuggets o' wisdom, asper
about yours truly no reason, nor
rhyme unwinding, tooling sputtering
most vexing mystery more
baffling than any whodunnit,
asper in this ole rattle trap to whit,
which drab filler hoop fully doth newt
induce thee to vomit
while this true bore doer sits here twit
tilling thumbs, one doubting Thomas
addresses, (albeit favoring abridged titbit
alphabetized list), I attempt (collusion
gluten, GMO free), aye solicit
motley fool, not to accrue superprofit
unbiased worded atypical, bohemian
rhapsodizing non mercurial portrait
most challenged since umpteenth orbit
whiling away this last May 2019 Tuesday
around nearest star circle game
impossible mission exit
or at least until after exhausting
without courting death
senescence to delimit.
ME? ANTI THE FOLLOWING::>
aggression, alcohol, apartheid, authoritarianism,
billboard, bureaucratic, censorship, church,
cigarette, anticlericalism, anticolonialism,
commercialism, communism, conglomerate,
conventional, corporate, corruption,
counterfeiting, crime, cruelty, cult, defamation,
diarrheal, dogmatic, dumping, elitism,
establishmentarianism, fascism,
fashion, formalist, fraud, fur, guerilla, gun,
hierarchical, hijack, hunter, king, illiterate,
litter, lynching, macho, materialism, militarism,
miscegenation, monarchical, monopolist,
mosquito, nationalist, nepotism, noise, nuclear,
obesity, pesticide, plague, pollution, poverty,
racist, racketeering, rape, religion, revolutionary,
riot, royalist, sexist, shoplifting, slavery, smog,
smoker, smuggling, snob, subversive, tax,
terrorist, theft, tobacco, totalitarian, violence,
vivisectionist, welfare.
What About You?
I WISH I WEREN’T AN ANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I wish I weren’t an ant, my survival rate is scant
Done in by a pesticide, or a shoe, as I gallivant
A solitary figure, when I roam, I am seldom seen
In Africa, in motion, we’re a devastating machine
But that’s not my fate, I’m a sentinel at the gate
Guarding the queen laying eggs at an alarming rate
When I’m on a hunt for food I always leave a scent
So I can find my way back home in rapid descent
I may be small, but I can lift twenty times my weight
Orts, meat, leaves or carcasses are typical freight
We are constantly on the hunt for sugary sweets
When acting in groups we perform incredible feats
That’s enough about me, I’ve got kin you need to see
They’re called fire ants once upon you it’s no mercy
They overwhelm you, stinging, causing great pain
Stumble across their mound; your distance maintain
I’ve got giant kinsmen that are in our tribal clan
Called carpenter ants habituating across the land
Their name may give that group a sense of glamour
I ask you, ever seen an ant carrying a hammer?
We are always busy, maintaining a colony means work
Soldiers, drones, workers, none allowed duty to shirk
But always being busy causes my legs to get sore
I’d like to be someone else, like the majestic condor
Soaring high over the Nazca plains in southern Peru
Seeing geoglyphs visible only from an aerial view
I’d glide, dive and do inside n outside double loops
High above Andean peaks with frightening swoops
But alas that’s a daydream of mine nary to be seen
As I forage seeking food for our egg laying machine
man created thunder awakening brooklyn with the promise of hell to come
if god is generous it will rain on the night of unregulated fire works
for dogs and cats not to fear the roar of drunken hooligans
spending their dole for the trade of a night to escalate into fights
and a gun or two
do not ring my bell it is a decoy to fool the like of you
as my door is open only I know as who would be so crazy not to use a key
in the streets of brooklyn with nothing to fear seven pounds of protection
sleeping at my feet and a cat to snuff you if you insist to invade my world
and a gun or two
my blue eyes doing the killing as the are cold as ice looking through you
an heart untouched but ruined by tribulation of a life lived to the rim
I walk the streets to pacify a night as we all need our sleep
to make the world roll of its axis for the sun to smile
and a gun or two
it is what I signed for taking the allegiance to a flag and never took the time
to learn its stripes only stars to me but lafayette my street i am proud
to bring you the constitution with amendments and a rainbow to prove it
color I see I am an artist sharing a world
and a gun or two
more work need to be done for the right to educate your children
and enjoy a sensible meal earned around a table with laugh
frontiers open for any one to enter a future farm without pesticide
as the sun is not about to dim soon
and a gun or two
On the night of December 2, 1984
a toxic gas leak at a Union Carbide pesticide plant
was a terrible tragedy that continues to evoke
strong emotions even 30 years later,
disaster haunts Bhopal survivors.
When the sun rose the next morning,
the magnitude of devastation was clear.
Dead bodies of humans and animals blocked the street,
leaves turned black and a smell of
burning chili peppers lingered in the air.
Plant run by Union Carbide leaked about 40 tons of
deadly methyl isocyanate gas into the air in Bhopal,
quickly killing about 4,000 people.
Lingering effects of the poison pushed
the death toll to about 15,000 over the next few years.
In November 1984, most of the safety -
systems were not functioning
and many valves and lines were in poor condition.
In addition, several vent gas scrubbers had been out of service
as well as the steam boiler, intended to clean the pipes.
The pipes were rusty,
The rust in the iron pipes made the reaction faster.
All the contents of the tank were released
within a period of about two hours.
The tank had been maintained badly.
I can feel the pain of Mohammed Ismail, Alia,
Rasida Bibi, Kanhya and much, more people of Bhopal
Who suffering from leukorrhea, pelvic inflammatory disease,
excessive menstrual bleeding,
and suppression of lactation.
Civil and criminal cases were filed
in the District Court of Bhopal
causing death by negligence.
But justice has eluded the people of Bhopal for more than 20 years.
Union Carbide, refuses to assume these liabilities in India
or clean up the toxic poisons left behind.
Let the dandelions be, please
So that they can feed the bees
They are just as important as the trees
Without them the birds and the bees
will be overcome with disease
All some people see are weeds
Unaware they feed the bees needs
Think of where cross pollination leads
Into our food our pesticide bleeds
There are consequences to our deeds
Stop, look, listen, see what God sees
Let fluffy seeds blow through the trees
Fragrant air relieves winter freeze
Walk softly enjoy the delicate breeze
Let Dandelion Yellow brings you to your knees.
My name is flower
Of number one display and color
To commit suicide I decide
To take nuclear waste or pesticide
Am tired of you people polluting the air
Polluting our rivers and streams that's not fair
You clear out our jungles, you cut down our mountains
To make way for tall buildings Hollywood Mansions and fountains
You burn fuel for energy source
Depleting the ozone showing no remorse
You drill, you drain the earth of it's natural resource and nutrients
Causing a shift in the earth's plate
Evidence Tsunami and Earth Quake
I cannot take it anymore
This is the final straw
Yes am gonna commit suicide
Either by Nuclear Waste or Pesticide
O! yes you need me for oxygen
along with all other plant life existing
So if I were to take them all with me you'll die
You'll be no more... no lie?
So sit back admire the beauty, the splendor
The wonderful blossoming of a flower
In my last breath I write this suicide note
Dated 25th April 2011 by... flower
©Copyright April 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
I walk with my sister and we are young
And her knees are less broken; they swallow
petrel calls and soon we are
equivalent. I call these my oceans. I
shriek with my sister, we wished the
evenings would take our wolf-like sounds
and make us un-speeched.
We are straight and know the meaning of
artificiality. It is this:
jingoism, pesticide,
beaches steeped in rich, naked men.
I promise to protect my sister from optimism,
and together we are impatiently
consumed by mosquito thirst. When we grow
pale, I offer her dirty laundry,
grass stains. In her mind, she is already
past alternatives, and has forgotten
those rhythms. Beneath the ocean, I am
subdued and I am drowning in inanity
And there is a chain wrapped around my sisters
foot; really it is a snake. I am
bellowing the chains, willing her to acquiesce,
but she whispers to the snake,
sweetly, and it slackens, and she is walking
into naked beaches.
Death by firing squad is the old way
Using gas chambers, that area’s grey
Dropping big bombs, now that’s child’s play
Compared to the methods they use today
They’re killing people in their own homes
With tasty treats full of hormones
Microwave radiation into their bones
And straight to the brain using cellphones
Right out of the womb there’s a vaccination
If you got a “problem” there’s a medication
They got the water supply with fluoridation
And chemtrails in the sky crisscrossing the nation
In this day and age it’s hard to hide
From G.M.O. “food” and pesticide
Or animal meat with steroids inside
Consuming this stuff is like suicide
Death rates from cancer are enormous in size
Every few seconds somebody dies
We need to know truth instead of the lies
It’s time to wake up and open our eyes
Too many people need a hospital bed
And to get one costs some serious bread
You must stay conscious and one step ahead
Before you find that you’re the one dead