Don't look for feet, do they need them?
Why look for heads, when tails would do?
Why search for bipeds when centipedes crawl so well?
Why should they look anything like us?
Heaven forbid!
For alien is extraneous by definition
They are probably already here among us now!
How could we ever know?
Especially when we are looking in the wrong places
For beings kinda like us, not truly oddball, weird, otherworldly,
Aliens are well beyond are sensibilities
well beyond the reach of our puny
earthling senses, scopes and scope.
Categories:
bipeds, life, nature,
Form: Free verse
Still of weeping rank
At Blood Bank
And a Monster to tackle
In Transfusion circle;
Donors to save their pints
Or get ready to be clients
For the fiercest legal battle
That could The Bones rattle
Of their counsels: Baker or Sawyer
Widely judged “The Best Lawyer!”
Still oiling The Aids chainsaw
Whose savagery is sure:
A body violating its symmetry
And flying it to the cemetery …
Ever, The Forerunner of Wrecked Gum
That never helps a tuneful hum,
The body of victims a Leopard’s
Whereas they’re rather bipeds …
Yet to send prostitution packing
But much of its thrill sacking.
Categories:
bipeds, anxiety, cry, death, health,
Form: Rhyme
This man -made rich replica of Heaven ,
Designed by thinkers and culture-braiders
Flourished with various colours and breath
Till the bipeds ' , Greed like the raver raven
Razed ,meddling with the rocky hills and waters
Pure , crystal clear - on the Divine Map graven ,
And balanced by Nature's disciplined Order ;
Say " Abracadabra" : eschew the act craven ,
Of degrading in the trade -pretext by raiders ;
With various colours and breath flourished ,
Retain the paradise ; say ' No ' to sins seven !
Categories:
bipeds, paradise,
Form: Rhyme
Black grass dances in the warm winter air
And furry quadrupeds run wild with the
Shackles of instinct.
The metallic creature gives spontaneous birth
To bipeds who desire to kill for sport;
Two worlds and instincts collide.
A Million worlds and a
One-in-a-million meeting
Beneath the glow of a red moon.
Hunger for pleasure,
Pleasure for hunger,
And the reason; existential desire.
In the midst of a pack of quadrupeds,
A hairless creature limps;
Forelegs short; hindlegs long.
A lamed quadruped sees a biped,
Stands on hind legs, and
Breaks the shackles of instinct.
Categories:
bipeds, abuse, allegory, corruption, freedom,
Form: Verse
Fancy feast
In my best china dish
How she loves to be finicky
Wearing nothing but
Her pretty pink rhinestone collar
As she tiptoes across the room
Slinky and sleek
With a regal air
Ignoring silly bipeds
Life is grand
Prancing around
She owns the place
Published in The Amateur Poets Magazine, Spring 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on September 12, 2018 for contest SEPTEMBER 2018 PREMIERE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
and on September 1, 2018 for contest PERSONIFICATION OF A PET, WILD ANIMAL OR INSECT sponsored by TANIA KITCHIN
Categories:
bipeds, cat, fashion, life, perspective,
Form: Personification
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 56
To what extent can there be room for free will
If what governs is the Principle Yang-Yin
Since the future can largely be told at will
Since the Yi Jing permits karma to fulfil
Good works compensate pitfalls one stumbles in
To what extent can there be room for free will
For the Principle to work there must be Evil
In living things with will embedded in the gene
Since the future can largely be told at will
At what stage can karma begin the peril
Quadrupeds sans will or when bipeds sin
To what extent can there be room for free will
Does karmic balance-sheet deduct influence ill
Parents environs victims of upbringing
Since the future can largely be told at will
None can be guilty as the mythic Devil
The game’s over what pardon when neither win
To what extent can there be room for free will
Since the future can largely be told at will
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Categories:
bipeds, philosophy, riddle, truth, violence,
Form: Villanelle
Hey, I've got me a plan to survive World War Three
And it doesn't involve living deep in the sea
With a mermaid named Maddy from that '80s movie
Or a grey-skinned E.T. hoping to crossbreed with me.
There's a bunch of big blokes known as Bigfoot to some
And they live in the woods where most humans won't come
Though they've entered our culture as the years have gone by
They are still seen as legends and old myths, that's no lie.
See, in spite of their fur and their size they're quite smart
For their fondest desire is to live well apart
From us primates who ravage the Earth without pause
Like the virus that spreads through its host - just because.
Called by Yeti and Sasquatch and still other things
They refer to themselves as "Jemah" and are beings
Who, unlike the poor bipeds that include me and you,
Can converse without speech, like our pets often do.
Though the tallest are known to have grown to nine feet
And they stink like old garbage, not to mention dead meat
I shall fashion my life on this heavenly lathe;
I'll make Sweet Thing my wife, and I won't have to bathe.
Categories:
bipeds, humanity, humorous, life, mountains,
Form: Quatrain
GAZA 2014
Which veil b
locks o
ur view of the app
arent , what
purblindness
vis-à-vis this
land s
lice, that we should f
ail
to make
sense of the rebus
it is or to
decip
her the his
torical
hieroglyph it is.
See the man
iacal maw
that makes it more
than a guts-for-garters
clash.But
yet i
t fails the
world’s celeb
rated triage.
Cut through
the curt
ains, take a loo
k at the bipeds
on the other
side and the end-
of-the-world im
ages they s
end forth
Pitted as
they are again
st exist
ential odds,
and attitudes, gun
gho and ra
bid
With human
ity poro
us, pond
ero
us, vapid busy
in ba
lancing acts.
22 Aug 2014.
Categories:
bipeds, war,
Form: Free verse
Winter’s hoar…frost..
has bled the maples
Crimson, marks
the torn throat of morn.
Summer’s sullen forays
have scared the natural
blush of Fall.
Would the wood recover
from the toxic fumes of man?
Radiant the sun which bombs
the atmosphere, a blight of cancer
upon the uncloaked skin…
Mutant and mutating man
warring harbinger of doom.
Where sand and soil
and microbes had cleansed
the refuse of man waits…
clogging the arteries of bipeds
overflowing into the roots of forest
Unarmed
Rooted
Clinging
to the seed of an apothecary life.
Feeding on the vials unturned
draining into the Fall finery
a mottled military camouflage
sickly green, to burnt brown emerges.
And all that’s left of life
bleeds with the maple.
Crimson, marks
the torn throat of morn.
Categories:
bipeds, introspection, life, loss, natural
Form: Free verse
Drunk as a Dog
By Elton Camp
Some similes don’t make much sense at all
Like the intoxicated, “drunk as a dog” to call
“Drunk as a skunk” is also heard all the time
But I figure that is because of the nice rhyme
A dog I’ve never once seen shop a whiskey store
Likewise, one has never entered a saloon before
Anyone ever seen a dog with a six-pack of beer?
We sure don’t have anything like that around here
Our old hound dogs all seem to get along just fine
Without a slug of whiskey or even a sip of wine
The dogs might well say it’s unfair to compare
Them to the swaggering bipeds with so little hair
But it might be well to keep old Brutus on a chain
So that “sober as a judge,” your dog does remain
It isn’t likely that he’d be accepted at the local AA
And I never have heard of any groups called DDA
Categories:
bipeds, funnyold, dog, dog, old,
Form: Rhyme
There is no world beyond this one we know
With dominant bipeds and skies of blue
And lack of compassion and love we show.
Perhaps there could be life where the stars glow,
Blinking and pulsating their reddish hue.
There is no world beyond this one we know.
Do they have one arm where three ought to go
Or the same old three per side as we do,
And lack of compassion and love we show?
Maybe they just study the winds that blow
And believe this statement is likely true:
“There is no world beyond this one we know.”
Far away beings beyond sunbeam throw
Would not like me any more than they you,
Or lack of compassion and love we show.
We are building ships to make light speed slow,
To take us to the wall of time, and through.
Is there no world but this one we know,
with this uncompassionate love we show?
Categories:
bipeds, love, science fiction, world,
Form: Villanelle