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The Sergeant's Song

WHEN Lawyers strive to heal a breach,
And Parsons practise what they preach;
Then Little Boney he'll pounce down,
And march his men on London town!
Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum,
Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lay!

When Justices hold equal scales,
And Rogues are only found in jails;
Then Little Boney he'll pounce down,
And march his men on London town!
Rollicum-rorum, etc.

When Rich Men find their wealth a curse,
And fill therewith the Poor Man's purse;
Then Little Boney he'll pounce down,
And march his men on London town!
Rollicum-rorum, etc.

When Husbands with their Wives agree,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Into Solid Mist

a lonely page - a lonely leaf- -
by boney rage,
i drive my fist
into solid mist;
into a wall of relief...

-4: 37 a.m.,11-26-2012 -

poem by Ray Quesada
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Almost An Epitaph 7

Battling so hard for Jeff
Aching and exhausted, Death
Sat on a rock, and, out of breath,
Mopped his face with a handkerchief
Before he tossed the battered corse
Resplendent, o'er his boney horse.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Well, you know, I have always had an issue with the whole weight thing with people in general because I happen to love how big women look. I mean, it's all a perspective. It's all an opinion, and I think sort of the Rubenesque, voluptuous body is a lot sexier than the boney bag of bones with fake everything.

quote by Debi Mazar
Added by Lucian Velea
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Shall We Dance?

Come eventide I dance alone
at my estate on marbled stone
the boney waltz
Come join me where
this place of glass won't break
unless I tell it to...
I know it's new to you
Relax,
I'll sprinkle diamonds in your hair
and wear a scarlet velvet train that trails
behind my mortuary feet
and sweetly touch you on your cheek
I'll sing soprano
down your throat and force
strawberry flavors up your nose
And when the reaper comes
we'll strike a frozen pose
so he will think us dead
and go back home

poem by Sara Fielder
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School's Out (goodby old friends)

Goodbye Socrates
So long Pericles

Ta-ta Sappho
Ciao Apollo

And you too Plato
Hate to see you go

Sayonara Sophocles
(and god knows those boney knees)

Adios Aristotle
Try to stay off the bottle

Quetzacoatl you knew how to par-tay
One sacrifice every 15 mins.24 hours a day

Farewell Pharaoh
Back in time you go

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poem by David Whalen
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Erotic Lullaby For Bedding, After Roethke

Belly belly the hard boiled egg.
I map out of a dream.
Love a long necked boy.

Dance lips! Leaves of legion.
Jelly, yard dog! Leap to June.

Suckle me, honey,
long necked, boney onion.
Why cry when peeled?

Count the rings of a tree,
the circles of a breath.
The nose is a love.
Press me, press me.
Iron me soft.

A breath leans,
nape of jeans falling.

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poem by Warren Falcon
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Smell

Oh strong-ridged and deeply hollowed
nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?
What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose,
always indiscriminate, always unashamed,
and now it is the souring flowers of the bedreggled
poplars: a festering pulp on the wet earth
beneath them. With what deep thirst
we quicken our desires
to that rank odor of a passing springtime!
Can you not be decent? Can you not reserve your ardors
for something less unlovely? What girl will care
for us, do you think, if we continue in these ways?
Must you taste everything? Must you know everything?
Must you have a part in everything?

poem by William Carlos Williams
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Jetty

Like a jagged boney finger,
a rampart creating tranquility.
Extending from land’s end,
isolating calm from tossing sea.

Times, from Nature grown
others from arduous labor, created.
A welcome sight in long glass eye,
answer to petition, mariners often prayed.

Within its boundaries, stillness abides.
Winds fall away to soft breeze.
Unruly swell shall be calmed,
seafarer secured from tempestuous seas.

Licking and healing its wounds,
in quiet lagoon spent ship will rest.
Safe from the tossing and tumult,
suffering from angry sea’s worst.

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poem by Kurt Hearth
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1. A virus has infected me

it stays on my top snugly seated
in a white boney case, hooked onto two
powerful lenses, a pair of sonar and smell detectors
and a bonus taste pad latched onto it
not to mention the central control that
takes messages from all in order to manoevre
the physique in the right direction
but the being that daily whispers?
converses? tiptoes over the corridors
of a hodgepode of mysterious terrains
which triggers fear as well as at times
the ironical blessed dose of courage,
in the chamber of the heart, causing machinery
to crash? is he a harmful virus we are still
learning to clear, or is he the master of a game
on a multi dimensional computer
he so cleverly designed leaving us
in the dark of our own whereabouts?
a new generation computer that works
on a programme fueled by nature

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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