There is a man that I am aware of, who delights
In our 'old blood and guts' he says he'll fly that
Flag forever.!!! Now some may well think him nuts.'
Yet he quotes about lines of lin-iage and of an
Australian commonwealth law, of treaty called
For and ratified in Versallies 'is this all for sure?' He
Speaks of God king and country, of indissolluble
Rights.? And that we have a freedom to bear arms (indeed to fight) in our countrys protection, for our own lives..And those of familiy and friends ( now are we all kings in our country? If this is right lets get on the mend)
Is this what he is 'speaking today?' Is he right and
Sincere.? Should we lend him our ears.? Are there
Gems in the claims he portrays? Should we all raise (the duster) that is also called the 'blood and guts' that has seen us often to victory.' Is that
All it takes as such.? What if a tbousand law savvy? 'i am talking now credible folk' gave him some room, and consultation? To try his claims now.' To see.' will this all hold up? for there may well be truth in the bloke.?
Serious night dreams,
Have invaded my space.
Annoying and scary,
Have to put back in place.
Running away,
Blood and guts,
Repetitive dreams.
Wakes me up,
Startled in the dream.
Not normal for me,
My dreams tend to be free.
Relaxing and dissociative,
Like a movie.
Projected on my screen.
Left over,
From another night's dream.
Can sit through it all,
Perhaps popcorn.
While avoiding the serious night dreams.
William Charles Lunalilo
First King, chose by the people
Grandnephew of the Great King, as the people vote, was unanimous
Next year, King Kamehameha the Sixth died of tuberculosis
Hawaiian marriages are coconuts
Apple's eye, orchard nigh--girls uppercuts
Bees concede and confess
Honey is not the best
Lunalilo stings in-laws -- blood and guts.
Pacific divides paradise from lies, pulpit denies, missionary connives, fleece, devise hoax, and shanghais,
The native's supplies for whalers, all dives. At times, pearls for wider eyes, command contrives to control their lives.
Kings II & III foresaw their greed, the lands were a need to wed and achieve access was their way to succeed,
Lunalilo was short-lived, the people he decreed, as past kings agreed, a land trust deed, 'ere his life concedes.
Does it matter who didn't know?
Let's get on with the show!
War is on the screen.
Better than reality TV,
And it's free!
Feeding us with blood and guts.
Tears flowing from hearts!
No commercial breaks!
Have to keep us up late,
Our appetites will never sate.
Can't afford to have us wait,
For the next gory repast.
How long will this war last?
Will it have another season?
We have had so many in the past.
Who will win?
Before we begin again.
What are the beneficiaries of all this death?
Not you and I!
Certainly not the people who die.
Could it be the contractors that fund the war?
Rebuild again, so we can start one more!
O, What is Man
but a speck on the ocean
evanescence on land
As many as the grains of sand on the seashore
are man's acts of cruelty, his blood-and-guts wars
What on Earth is man truly here for?
The answer to this question plagues
philosophers and kings... all those who would
solve the riddle of this 'God-thing'
While the Lord leans back and waits --
He's all the time in the World --
'Til Man understands
He's the work of God's Hands
Observing Death
Look into the trench when a bomblet falls
Squirms without legs, excruciating balls
It means nothing him squirming, twisting in pain
I eagerly search, to find more of the same.
It’s not a film the loss is real
Surprises me, how little I feel
Blood and guts hanging around
A burst of fire, death curdling sound.
A loud cheer erupts as they fall
And I feel nothing, nothing at all.
After all they have done invading Ukraine
I want to see them wounded and dying in pain
They’ve raped, tortured, looted and maimed
And now they’re killed under bullets of rain
I enlarge the screen, to enhance the view
Of an orc dying, because his time is due
War has a way, of raising the tolerance bar
A sniper takes aim, bullets riddle a car.
I don’t feel sickened as I eat my tea
It’s most important that Ukraine is free.
David Cox 04/02/23
God needs your faith
otherwise he disappears behind your eyes
and you both go blind.
There are ancient inspectors looking into
your kidneys and liver.
Their horn-rimmed glasses
peer from under tortoise shells,
they search for any useful ingredients.
The science of looking is very old.
God awakes in a dream of you;
immediately begins
to stuff your hollowness
with blood and guts.
The soil x-rays you,
the sky photoshops your mind
erasing the smudged indecency
of any brain-damaged parts.
Some say this and some say that;
warm breath and cold air
blows through your burning straw.
Both the wise and the simple
allow themselves to be rocked gently
upon their own cupped hands.
How lovely are his cheeks, so soft and plush
like fluffy clouds against a moonlit dream.
Graceful are his whiskers like a paintbrush,
tracing our ankles like a flowing stream.
As king of the jungle, his razor claws
subdue small creatures like a mighty sword.
Pouncing on enemies, with brawny paws,
warm blood and guts are his playful reward.
Shiny and watchful are his marble eyes,
and with perky ears he listens to me.
I ask a question. "Meow," he replies,
and lifts his chin in a meaningful plea.
Though shaped like a liger, he's very tame.
My cat is my Muse, and that is his name.
May 2022
Co-written with my son for school
attention seeking
valentine roses
scarlet cone flower
embarrassed faces
Santa Claus suit
strawberry wine
fire engine
sweet tomato
ripest melon
blood and guts
confidence
self esteem
jazzy
stop sign
red
The tracks long abandoned now
weeds growing between their rails
tracks that once brought sheep and cows
thousands of workers with lunch pails
The stockyards closed 'bout seventy-one
technology spelling their doom
Buried beneath those acres of grounds
stories of blood and guts and passions bloomed
A spectacle they were to see
Their niche in history sure to be
Brutus, my slavering Rottweiler, growls
He knows he's tougher than pooches with tails
The long pointed studs on his black leather collar
Are matched by his canines which make poodles holler
The drooling saliva that trails from his jaws
As he lumbers about on his four massive paws
Is soaking the ground and his talon like claws
Encouraging folk to keep children indoors
Devil Dog, Satan’s mutt, hellhound and more
All labels my beast has been nick-named before
I feed him on red meat and shin bones of cattle
It’s said he eats tigers but that’s tittle tattle
The park is all ours because other folk run
But wait, there’s a kitten, now this could be fun
Brutus will rip him apart for a lark
And splatter its blood and guts over the park
Hey, kitty kitty, come over to me
Play with my dog, what good friends you could be
But kitten was clever, too clever for me
He hissed and now Brutus is stuck up a tree
If paintings could come to life would I bring home a grizzly bear?
To be activated when my great aunt begins her tedious tales?
Would I skip the flowers and rainbows in favor of blood and guts?
If we could smell the painting would blood smell chase moochers off?
If paintings could come to life, would they do it on their own?
Spur of the moment? Or would they have to be activated?
I imagine clicking on an ocean and trying not to laugh
As it drowns the neighbor who is an incessant talker.
Imagine that?
A disabled homeless man
and war veteran is now
sleeping on the sidewalk in America;
the greatest, richest, most powerful...
country on the face of the earth.
A country this hero gave
so much of himself.
serving; a country he risked his life
shedding blood and guts for.
He'd proudly serve her again if he could,
despite the fact
she's forgotten him
and left him out in the cold.
And that's the thanks he gets...
for decades of service
and sacrifice? We both know
he's one of many! How did it
come to this? It's a travesty
that must be redressed.
Date written: 12/19/2020
both loved and disliked
General "Old Blood and Guts"—
triumph and ordeal
The pet store is a strange location
Where snakes run around legless
They literally run the place
Hissing is a form of foreign communication
Translations come at a cost to life and limb
Discounted by the new proprietors within
Turtles don't speak at all
They mind their business but not the register
The human stretched out on the floor is useless
With two puncture wounds in his neck he looks adorable
Not vampire cute with all that blood and guts
Foaming at the mouth he gurgles “poison poison”
I lay down next to him to whisper in his ear
“Pet meow”...”comprende?”
The new owners hate my racist remarks
Not in so many words but in the hisses
They too do not speak in meow
That shop is down the street
Where they speak English
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