Short Underfed Poems

rose, alluring red,

          loveliest indeed, but not to

                    a goat underfed....

Read More

Ball buster Fred wants the workers unfed,
and when his shit turns to clay,
reborn Karma says,
black in the face he will pray,
but his God wants him there underfed,
ok....Don Johnson...

Read More

wilting in the setting sun
dissolving deflating
undernourished underfed
neglected rejected

unknown
a mystery
if any degree of pampering
can bring me back to life


Posted on October 13, 2024...

Read More

Volcanoes dignified this land
barren and deserted
Bound to be an abaddon 
scared and agitated

Fed on flesh and corpses
hungry and underfed
Needed more to devour
lustful and crazed

But this lust for blood never ended
when the earth we lived wasn't round...

Read More

T is for talented, can gobble and gobble and gobble
U is for underfed, won't taste good, scrawny 
R is for regal, feathers fluffed up and holding waddle up high
K is for keen, too eager 
E is for earnest, long face and won't give a small gobble or laugh
Y is for youthful, too young too die!...

Read More

rose alluring red
                  loveliest indeed, but not to
                  old goat underfed !

                                       white ceiling high, wide
                                       pale lizard, dark underside
                                       brown moth gone, inside!...

Read More

I am aggravated. Yes, I am frustrated. 
If you decide I'm tasteless then I argue this point;
How did you find it worthwhile?
I am appropriate. Yes, I am underfed.
If you insist your insides sit beside stress and leave you fully dressed;
Then I submit, yes once again.
Come around me.
Come beside me....

Read More

The World is sick,
and I,
I am sick with it.

A bomb goes off in my head,
my stomach can't remember
when it last was fed.
My eyes are weak;
I can't bear the sight
of devastation any longer.

The World is sick,
and I,
I am sick of it.

I am indifferent to the depravity,
blind to the destruction
deaf to the declarations
of war and propaganda
numb to the demands
of the underfed.

The World is sick,
and I,
I am sick with it....

Read More

At one point in my life, I had much love to yield
And now my heart; is a fallowed field

That has been overworked and sadly underfed,
It is now a place in which to bury the dead

Feelings relegated to dank shadowed tombs,
Oh, how I wish I had never left the womb

Warm and safe; I was never unprotected
Until cruelly expelled into a world so neglected

At one point in my life, I had much love to yield
And now my heart; is a fallowed field....

Read More