A bird shat on my head today
Why he did it I could not say
Passing below a nice green tree
He suddenly let it go on me
My head was wet, it trickled down
And stopped amongst my disapproving frown
A tissue was required, Oh what a mess
A sorry state I must have looked I guess
As it dripped all down on to my shirt
All embarrassed, feelings hurt
It’s supposed to be lucky someone said
What to have a bird shat on my head
I retorted in an angry mood
Then laughed out loud when situation reviewed
It must have been funny to those near by
To see this bird with a very keen eye
Who flew away not to be seen again
But only his droppings did remain
Is it lucky, we will see
But I won’t forget the day he shat on me.
I don’t like the rules,
So I just won’t follow them,
They make writing all dry and stiff,
Tasteless Weither it be bitter or sweet,
“Flaws”,
“Mistakes”,
“Sloppy and disorganized”,
That’s how humans are just like,
Just like my poetry and writing style,
Humming my toon as I walk and dance,
You start to notice when you read my work,
Its the Varry toon of someone living and experience,
Once you read this I hope you see,
I pray you hear shat I hear,
The stars of dreamers shining bright,
The cries of the appressed by oppressor',
My style,
My technique,
My varry existence,
MY SHINING SOUL,
It can be mocked and talked down to,
It can be broken down by oppressors,
But even so I’ll write till my last word,
I’ll write till the name Dragonstar means something,
Until my style less style becomes a statement.
Until my toon is Hurd and Agknolaged.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
,
Winging away in lush green wood
Amidst young blossoms, tends to brood
The six-footed drone bee
And flees from Champak tree.
Why, beauteous not is she?
Bemused by blooms not he?
God alone knows everyone's good.
___________________________
Translation | 29.10.2025 | beautiful, God, green, flowers, wood
Note: A drone bee enjoys the blossoms of all flowers except that of Champak tree (Magnolia Champaca). The poet wonders why, but can’t figure out the reason, and says: God only knows. His wish, His mood. See, however, the next verse. Below is the transliteration of the Sanskrit verse:
Bhraman vana ante nava-mañjarishu
Na shat-padah gandha-falim ijighrat |
Saa kim na ramyaa sah cha kim na rantaa
Baleeyasi kevalam ishvara iccha || Indravajra meter ||
Israel shat on itself.
It's fine that Israel exists only for war crimes indulgence?
Once that piece of target resists my push towards it I'm already whipping it off my foot
Raising a Georgia 5th on it
Piece of garbage civilization done nothing but stimulate rhetoric attached to premonition Messiahs out of line
Fall in soldier
You get hurt out there without a battalion?
Good on ya then.
See what I gots to say?
You haven't finished your own minds questioning itself?
I type
Poor folks is prisoners of stupid
Quyeer times emit blazing signs..And some ex-boy friends?
Is this karma divine? mi5 say its Putin..' a prime topic for
Them...And its taken a fortnight with henceforth..No why
Where or whens..From them.' Yet it seems rather sloppy to
Be (a Russian affair?) And arson too primitive.' I think thats
Quite fair.? Just an ass-umption.' To try to open the door.'
Of secrecy thats been holding karmas secret deposits oh
Dear..I guessed such was er?? Coming..Hmm?? I wrote a
Poem before.!! Now its been shat-tered all over the world
And whats more.' Theres an outcome to happen.' Once the
Lube is applied.' As it was maybe in the beginning.?? Or
Will this turn upon lies? Maybe death? Well of the
Truth.' Will be the out-come? Lets await the putrid offerings
Of ( some media bums.?)
I hope you get use
to be without me
cuz that is the way
is gonna be
I won't be the rag
for your feet
I wont be the bed
where you sleep.
I always was
on your side
but you were never
on mine
following you everywhere
from behind
you didn't turn around
to say hi...
My mother broke my spirit
long ago
waves of pain
come and go
they shat on me
and on my love
I turned myself into a toilet
and I didn't know.
So I hope you get use to be
without me
cuz that is the way
is gonna be
I won't beg or cry
or scream or plea
you can now go
I set you free.
Jessica
A mothers love is like no other
Through thick and thin
They’ll be no other.
Bites to the nipple
Shat on the walls
Puke in the stalls
A mothers love is like no other
Through thick and thin
They’ll be no other.
Fights in school
Blood in the pool
No Rule
A mothers love is like no other
Through thick and thin
They’ll be no other.
Illness, inflammation, intoxication
Sickness, sorrow
No tomorrow
A mothers love is like no other
Through thick and thin
They’ll be no mother.
Once there was back when
In the history of “then”
‘Fore the “be” began
In these days of yore
The people lived before, for
There was nothing more
‘Twas a different time
When the latest lagged behind
“Is” had not arrived
None of then’s events
Happened in the present tense
That had not come yet
Language done ‘em in
As their “be,” already been
Never to begin
Now was not "to be"
Then, verbs ended in “-ed”
All done, already
Trapped in simple past
People didn’t sit; they sat
Didn’t sh_t; they shat
But then’s now’s not when
Life was yesterday to them
It was today back then
We do what we does
Not in history because
Past ain’t what it was
Just let it go.’ Easier said than gone -
‘You’ll be nothing without me, says pain,
‘I’m your identity.’ Well,
listen up, old man of the sea,
she’s dislodged you, uncurled
her spine from the burden of you;
spat you, shat you out,
delivered you, ectopic cuckoo,
to sprawl helpless on the beach.
What will you do now?
Scuttle sideways, find
another hollow person to crawl into?
But you’re fading, dissipating,
becoming nothing.
The shoreline will be clean of you.
She can see so far across the water.
Cat locked out in the rain
Soggy
Moggy
Cat uses litter tray
Tiddles
Piddles
Cat didn’t use litter tray
Cat shat
On mat
Cat wouldn't eat the new cat food
Fussy
Pussy
"chat or chien"
i don't give
a shat but
you have
a good
watch
dog in
that
cat
I'm going to sit this one out,
find a cave,
on a hill to watch from,
maybe a big old oak tree,
just sit under it
lean on its broad trunk,
watch the freak show.
The battle can rage in the valley below.
I don't care who wins,
it will be some rat bastard,
some pimp of a politician.
The White House lawn
will be littered with slain goblins
and elves
Of course, I will honor the memory
of this grim ballyhoo
with a patriotic poem,
I will read it from the balcony
with all the other assholes.
For now though
it seems more important
and more pressing
to shat in the woods.
There are many ways to say it,
but shat is so vital for the thriving
of all life.
The dung beetle is the hard-working poet
of the world.
Every day it writes its labor of love
upon the hot sands,
Yet no one notices,
and nobody gives a shat anyway.
A software programmer named Arty Fishal
Tried to design something beneficial
But his programming
Was rather damming
Not unlike intelligence, artificial
As they push their wannabe pie in the sky
In our face until we see eye-to-their-eye
But the more they push
That tells me their tush
Actually shat out the @#$%!, they call AI
We learn that it takes lots of borrowed money
To try making us believe clouds are sunny
So they’re giving a try
At slinging AI
Which is too devious to be funny
What is it about American divorcees
and the British Royal Family?
Sadly it never ends well.
The Duke and Duchess of woke!
Harry, what were you thinking?
Harry, what have you become?
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
After Michelle and Hillary and Nancy
your precious commoner bride
is the most insufferable bit-ch.
Harry, you are a spoiled brat!
Harry, you are an entitled prat!
Harry, on the Queen you shat!
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
And now we have the big interview
with that infuriating Oprah
so poor Meghan Debacle can tell
us all how mistreated she is,
and how victimised she is
by her haters and her tormentors.
Girl, what a narcissist you are.
Girl, what a diva and what a liar.
Spare us all your fake tears!
Spare us all your fake fears!
Spare us your racist tales!
Spare us your lectures and rails!
God save the Queen from you
and that ginger whinger too!
O Harry, Why her? Why?
O Harry, Why? She’s no Princess Di.
Written: March 2021
Wrote this 18 months ago
but after recent pod casts
I just couldn’t help myself.
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