Quotes about smelly, page 6
The Peace Mission
In search of safety, peace and security
true sons and daughters of the Soil
sit alert in the House-Supreme, with hearts back home
partnered in the noble mission by some peace-bent comrades,
whilst peace-laden honourables and stooges amongst
dilly-dally on trivial issues like smelly socks in the house;
they debate tirelessly for peace at home unheeded,
they propose dialogue with death desperate for life!
Wrestling the spooky unholy giants as last peace resort
in what's mere smoke-screen democracy which cares not
for the poor souls which must perish perilously in the jungles
in the epoch of innuendoes and indecent politics of screen-guys!
Watched; protected or unprotected by the USA, EU, UNO...
see by yourself and look at it the way you want!
In Zaire, in Sudan, in Uganda, in Rwanda, in the Middle East...
but be sure posterity will discern us and epitomize the shepherds
of hope as real champions in career martyrdom for peace,
and indeed fraternity will crown them ultimately
as Kings of truth in the Peace Mission.
poem by Frank O. Anywar
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The Complaining Cries
The gushing blows of the future wind,
Bring echoes of the distant voices,
Complaining Cries of the descendants,
Against muddling refined pure nature,
The wailings disturb my sleep at night,
As the ghosts haunt one in dreams,
Bring the dews of anguish on the forehead
And make me old ere the age ripe.
“Oh! Fathers, grandfathers, forefathers,
What heritance we have been bestowed?
Is it a world, God made a thing fair,
Where find we drab treeless mountains,
And clouds dropp black sooty rains,
Waters all around and underneath,
Pungent, too smelly, hard to take,
Futile lands, eroded seas, smoky spheres,
And singed surface remind us Inferno? ”
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Daughter Of Eve
Who sorts out scraps of sustenance,
Bending upon the hump of smelly trash,
And picks up the sucked eaten bones,
Stuffs them into spacious juty sack,
Hanging down upon her back,
Or sometimes drags behind toiling,
The load of life, out of breath?
Bare-footed, wearing smeared clothes,
Knotty hair, unwashed since birth,
Has baby kind three years old,
Resembling mother in gait and form,
Half dressed, the thumb in mouth,
Standing among the black crows,
Feeding upon the garbage scattered,
Along the roadside, she wondering looks,
At the running mindless blind beasts,
Speedily pass with the swishing sounds,
And across the road at high mansions,
Shining, painted glaring white,
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Doctor Frolic
Felicity the healer isn’t young
And you don’t look him up unless you need him.
Clown’s eyes, Pope’s nose, a mouth for dirty stories,
He made his bundle in the Great Depression
And now, a jovial immigrant success
In baggy pinstripes, he winks and wheezes gossip,
Village stories that could lift your hair
Or lance a boil; the small town dirt, the dope,
The fishy deals and incestuous combinations,
The husband and the wife of his wife’s brother,
The hospital contract, the certificate ...
A realist and hardy omnivore,
He strolls the jetties when the month is right
With a knife and lemons in his pocket, after
Live mussels from among the smelly rocks,
Preventative of impotence and goitre.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Pinsky
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Kenny The Crocodile
A crocodile that lived with many
who everyone knew as Kenny
was shunned by all the others
including his sisters and brothers.
Now Kenny was not one to really care
that his natural stench filled the air.
He thought it totally unnecessary and futile
that they should shun a brother crocodile.
He was forced to leave the muddy pool,
by the long nosed elders who did rule.
After walking and jogging for several days
he rested in the jungle and began to laze.
A keen eyed crocodile hunter close by
espied Kenny out of his one good eye.
He took careful aim and fired his rifle,
expecting Kenny to get an eyeful.
[...] Read more
poem by Orlando Belo
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Dirty Fingernails And Smelly Clothes
An ode to the lifeblood of society both past and present
The multitude of souls who break their spirits to present
Many invisible services to residents who resent
The smell of soiled clothes without their written consent
Or dirty fingernails that fix their home to their content
And fill their rooms with all varieties of foreign content
From all continents
Where beleaguered joints can make them look prominent
By spinning threads into patterns or metal into confident
Shapes that allure the senses and induces false confidence
Amongst others who toil under the same notion
That if they work hard enough
They’ll gain the boss’s devotion
Unaware the head office needs them more than they
Need the head office to provide them with pay
For without dirty fingernails and smelly clothes
What’s to stop the garbage from piling up in rows?
[...] Read more
poem by P.R. Prosper
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High Price
Jerry Jerry your lifestyles hairy
how do your dope plants grow?
In cramped ceiling, under a naked bulb, my lady,
from little seeds all in a row.
Jerry Jerry your rather smelly
how are your dope plants sold?
By bountiful bagful, or in single rolls, to tally
Waitangi gold, is a trip, for joint discerning bold.
Jerry Jerry do you live in fear
do you feel hunted, with pouncing, policemen near?
The boys in blue, dance a merry, merry tune.
What’s a bust, may come yearly, like June?
Jerry Jerry one day all grow old
will you feel regret, for lives, you’ve sold?
I’ve been living high, flying in narcotic, sky seat.
Life’s been so very sweet, living with prepaid, heat.
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Cure for Poetry and the Curse of Individualism
The Mind Police came yesterday,
They kidnapped my friend and took him away,
Our house was untidy, the floor could have been cleaner,
And now he's been charged with schizophrenia.
Omitting the housework's a serious crime
As a Social Worker told me time after time -
If you want to get by you've got to conform,
Abide by the rules, fit in with the norm.
Don't talk about 'freedom' - there's no such thing,
The birds are conditioned, that's why they sing!
Writing of poetry's strictly forbidden
And if you've got talent, better keep it hidden.
I heard of a guy who had stange ideas,
(He said that good music moved him to tears!)
His home was a mess and a little bit smelly,
So I prescribed him a brand new telly.
[...] Read more
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Veteran Of The World War II
In my early days of childhood, I beheld a man,
He was in eighties with thin wobbly, shaky legs,
Slits slots were on his heels, broken were his boots.
Though they were dingy soiled yet he wore
A ragged shirt and old brown pants of army,
And he too wore one glassed frame of glasses.
He spoke to the street-kids with kind words,
But with quaking, quivering voice.
He always carried upon the bent structure of body,
A big bag hung on his shoulders behind,
Containing contents of the dotage.
He was expelled out from the house of his own,
By his sons, daughters and daughters-in-law,
And he roved, moved but not afar from the village.
When his belly beleaguered, harassed him,
He knocked at any door in front, in the street,
And fed it with the home-backed bread of charity
Soaking in water or pasting with the paste of chilies,
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Ode To John
Ode To John
You can have your fancy restaurants
Nightclubs and downtown haunts
He'd rather find a place to camp
If it's not too cold and damp
He'd rather scorch a can of beans
Than get a meal by other means
Just get the coals red and hot
He'll cook whatever he's got
He'd rather view a starlit sky
With shoreline lights gliding by
Then gaze upon the city lights
And all the other urban sights
No shiny shoes, no stylish suits
He's quite content in his canoe
No motor for the stream or lakes
[...] Read more
poem by James Casey
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