Quotes about fat, page 7
For better or worse
I say Phoebe do not force it.
It won’t fit inside your corset.
Those rolls of fat that wobble so
are adamant they will not go.
They do not wish to be constrained.
’t was better far you had remained.
The slim young girl you used to be
and given up on gluttony
Those sweets which you enjoyed so much
have added weight, well just a touch.
Oh Blast it I’ll speak honestly
You are as fat as fat can be.
But I don’t care I love you still
There’s more of you my arms to fill.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Giving Options Prevents That
No bonuses.
No more pats on the back.
No bonuses.
Lobbyists fight back.
No bonuses.
And that's why they attack.
Gone will be fat pockets.
And lifestyles lived in shacks.
Thieves like these greed.
Giving options prevents that.
No bonuses.
No more pats on the back.
No bonuses.
Lobbyists fight back.
No bonuses.
And that's why they attack.
Gone will be fat pockets.
And lifestyles lived in shacks.
Thieves like these greed.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Sugar-cubes!
An ant had found some sugar-cubes,
And ran across to feed;
It ate them all and became fat;
A spider glimpsed the ant!
The ant could not run very fast;
The spider caught it fast;
It threw a web and ate it up,
And it became too fat!
A lizard glanced the spider fat
And flicked its tongue for food;
In moment’s time, it gulped it whole
And went to take a nap!
A cat that came that way then caught
The lizard by its teeth;
And ate it piece-meal with relish;
A dog then chased the cat!
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poem by John Celes
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Born To Be Beautiful Defended
I know people went on their rant
about my poem “Born to Be Beautiful”,
now I take a stand.
Well let me say and defend,
I write first hand my unknown friend.
Who gave you the right to decide
for a person whose tired of the fight.
The fight to look skinny and to fit in,
tired of going to the health center and the gym.
Tired of the media and the fake looking ads,
of some of the skinny models on Prozac.
Now, tell me, tell me,
have you ever been attacked?
Attacked for being fat?
Now “fat” is the “protection”
for a lot of souls,
who knowingly incarnate
with fat as their goal.
Now you tell me can you
control karma too?
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poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Little Fat Doctor
He seemed so strange to me, every way--
In manner, and form, and size,
From the boy I knew but yesterday,--
I could hardly believe my eyes!
To hear his name called over there,
My memory thrilled with glee
And leaped to picture him young and fair
In youth, as he used to be.
But looking, only as glad eyes can,
For the boy I knew of yore,
I smiled on a portly little man
I had never seen before!--
Grave as a judge in courtliness--
Professor-like and bland--
A little fat doctor and nothing less,
With his hat in his kimboed hand.
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Fat Women vs Skinny Women
Where does it end with the skinny women getting skinnier
and the fat women getting fatter
what's going on in this world?
You've got different shapes and sizes
different diets and models
a bunch of unhappy fat women depressed because they are fat
and a bunch of skinny women unhappy because they are skinny
ALL
having one thing in common
they're all comparing themselves
to skeletons and women they see as better than them...
They don't realise that the true journey
THE REAL JOURNEY
is that of the mind
the inner journey
the only way to be happy
is to take the real journey
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poem by Nathan Strange
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The World is Full of Kindness
The World is full of kindness—
And not the poor alone;
We Christians in our blindness
Bow down to hearts of stone;
The clever, bitter cynic,
Whose poisoned “soul” is dead,
And, like the rotten clinic,
Raves, helpless, on his bed.
The world is full of kindness—
But not the White alone;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone;
But all men are his brothers,
In spite of all the “Powers,”
And the things he does for others
Shew whiter souls than ours.
The world is full of kindness—
But not the Lean alone;
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poem by Henry Lawson
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A Thousand Miles Away
Hurrah for the Roma railway! Hurrah for Cobb and Co.,
And oh! for a good fat horse or two to carry me Westward Ho
To carry me Westward Ho! my boys, that's where the cattle stray
On the far Barcoo, where they eat nardoo, a thousand miles away.
Chorus
Then give your horses rein across the open plain,
We'll ship our meat both sound and sweet, nor care what some folks say;
And frozen we'll send home the cattle that now roam
On the far Barcoo and the Flinders too, a thousand miles away.
Knee-deep in grass we've got to pass—for the truth I'm bound to tell
Where in three weeks the cattle get as fat as they can swell
As fat as they can swell, my boys; a thousand pounds they weigh,
On the far Barcoo, where they eat nardoo, a thousand miles away.
No Yankee hide e'er grew outside such beef as we can freeze;
No Yankee pastures make such steers as we send o'er the sea
As we send o'er the seas, my boys, a thousand pounds they weigh
From the far Barcoo, where they eat nardoo, a thousand miles away.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Fat Dame in Maine.
You know the fat dame in Maine
Whose husband used to carry a
Gun for the Mob until they banged
Him up for shooting some guy in
The head? Well she rang Eddie the
Other night and said why don’t you
Come over and spend a little time
With me? And Eddie said sorry Honey
But I’m washing my hair then I’m sitting
Down with a JD and going to listen to
Some jazz and maybe get in a take away
And so the fat dame said ok then I’ll
Come over to you and dry your hair
And share the JD and bring a pizza and
Snuggle up close and listen to some jazz
And maybe later we can hit the sack and
Make some hot sex and dig deep into each
Other so Eddie said hang on there Babe
I’ve just now remembered my mother’s
Coming to see my new pad and I’m taking
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poem by Terry Collett
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Decoys
You'll see over there,
Decoys.
But none to keep.
Or use as toys.
Realize they are bait to feed.
And a process to minimize,
Those who try...
To annoy with alibis.
We apply them to attract,
Those easy to tease.
And seeking a life of greed,
To please and disregard others in need.
Decoys,
Are easy to create and rid.
Decoys,
Used to fool...
And,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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