The Lion Ate The Pig

Once I was a young zookeeper

I was then of smaller age

I was to feed and care for the beasts

And clean each and every cage

It was fine work for any person

If he did not mind the smell

For they pay was quite good

And the animals were cute as hell

One day, I made a decision

To clean out the lions’ den

So I sent them off to romp

In a close adjoining pen

I did not know that Bartholomew

Our portly friendly pig

Had been dancing in that same pen

And the lions ate the pig

All I saw was a tinge of red

And those huge and guilty eyes

Methinks they were already halfway through

Ere they knew he was not some well fed prize

So I called my supervisor

A fat bald man with a blonde wig

And I said as meekly as I could

Sir, the lions ate the pig



I am Rich

I am rich
After the sun sets
I retire to my lavish holdings
And drink gold in crysolite bottles
I recline in lush leather recliners
And clink glasses of jasper
I live well and I know
That I am rich

The world cannot get enough of me
And I know that I will touch the sun
Before I die
But I pray that I can redeem my soul
Before I die
I am rich knowing
That no matter how much I spend
There is more to be made
I sell my time to the four armed beast
With coins for teeth
And dollar bills for Rasta dreads
But I am rich

Financial fine ass
Drowning in molten gold
And sucking in priceless jewels
Everyday because my greed
Will never be satiated
Even by the pot of gold
Of the famed leprechaun
For as soon as it is gained
My riches are lost
Fed to the maw of leviathan
That eats up the proceeds
Of my nine to five
But I am rich

I will be rich
When I lie in that bed
Gazing upon my vast empire
Smiling at its inability
To redeem my soul
I will close my eyes
Hoping that rigor mortis will pull
My face into a quiet smile
Because I died happy knowing
That I am rich

Call To Arms


He is an angel
Who has seen and heard
And understood the ways
Of his fellow man.
He is a celestial being who
Has surpassed and grown
Past the common
Torture of ordinary humanity
Understand these words
And receive sense

The world is not
To the strong or meek
But to the opportune
For with the right blow
A lucky stone
May murder a giant.
You may not
Be the glistening soul
Or the epitome of beauty
But in its right time
Chance will come to you.
Await it with
A thirsty cudgel
And beat it down
That it may never
Leave you again.

The stupid are by far
More plentiful than the wise
But this is good
For by sheer numbers
Wisdom denigrates to foolishness
What makes it so precious
But its scarcity?
What makes it
So beautiful
But its distance?
Why do we cherish it so
But that we do not have it?
Therefore, the stupid
Welcome the sagacious
And the meticulous
For in them lies
The salvation
Of the homo sapiens

It is a beautiful place
I have seen
And I call it my mind
An uncultured place
Of thorns and thistles
And tombs of many thoughts
It is a beautiful place
That I found
Where the sidewalks
Glitter with brilliance
But the sun is without
Aye, it is beauty indeed
And it shall consume me
And I will thence from here
Fare ye well
I bid you grace
When I am without
I will go into that prison
And bask in my sloth

The kiln is not kindled
For items of plastic
The furnace is not bred
For articles are mere slag
Waste not effort
On mindless pursuits
Burn not the wick
For trivial drivel
It is barely cause enough
For here lies the hero
Who fought well
In a war he was
Not a part of
Here lies the charlatan
Who told his last lie
And one more

If my ear is keen
Then I will hear
If my legs are strong
Then I will run
If my heart is brave
Then I will fight
But if my mind is sharp
Then I will live
Nothing is brought
By the magic of kindness
But calculation
And shrewd dealing
Bringeth a man wealth
The lark will sing
And the lyre will play
And the shrewd
Will inherit the earth

Continue reading “Call To Arms”