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The Scorpion and The Cockroach

It was in a cleanly washed jam jar that Frank put them in,
he wanted to know which would survive, which one would win.
The scorpion wasted no time as it arched its back and struck,
but the cockroach quite unaffected, for a way out it did look.

The roach disliked being attacked and tried to climb the jar’s side,
but the glass was too steep and smooth, and so it couldn’t hide.
Repeatedly it tried to climb the jar, but it fell upon its back
and so the scorpion launched another ferocious attack.

The cockroach tried desperately to become upright once again,
as the scorpion’s venomous tail tried to strike the roach’s brain.
With a flick of its sturdy wings the roach became upright,
but still it didn’t resist attack, or put up a fight.

The battle weary scorpion grew tired of attacking its foe
and ceased hostilities at least for a moment or so.
But then the cockroach became hungry and had a desire to eat,
so approached the scorpion and nibbled at its feet.

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poem by Orlando Belo
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Cockroach

Sitting in the sunshine
Sipping cheap wine on a bed
Salsa in the summer
Some tequila for my head
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)
The operator
Red eyes in the sunshine
Sipping cheap wine on a bed
Salsa in the summer
Casanovas walk the stretch
Just take me home, just take me home (Just take me home)
I love the winter, winter, yeah yeah
Give me a phone, give me a phone (Give me a phone)
The operator, yeah yeah yeah
Just take me home, just take me home, just take me home
Cockroach, cockroach, cockroach, cockroach...
Sitting in the sunshine
Some tequila for my head

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song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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La cucaracha for lady Phoenix Rain

.

I have a cockroach for a friend.
I may just start a whole new trend
But when you're pent in the death cell
it makes it difficult to tell.
My friendly cockroach visits me.
He's not afraid to let me see
he wants the leavings on my plate
Though he’s polite prepared to wait.
I have no other friends who care
my leavings I will gladly share.
And when they strap me in the Chair.
I know my cockroach will be there
He will be waiting faithfully
to have his last free meal on me.

8-Jul-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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THE Metamorphosis of F. Kafka

one day
he finds himself converted into
a giant cockroach
he does not know about it at first
until he wakes up
and looks at himself in the mirror

he changes his taste for food
now attracted to left overs
dislikes water and
light
dislikes people and
events
and cannot relate to the morning
news on TV

his door has now remained closed
and no one is allowed to enter
except his dear sister
who feeds him

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Both the cockroach and the bird would get along very well without us, although the cockroach would miss us most.

quote by Joseph Wood Krutch
Added by Lucian Velea
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Both the cockroach and the bird could get along very well without us, although the cockroach would miss us most.

quote by Joseph Wood Krutch
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Alien is gross, scary. There is something in a human being that looks at them and sees it as a cockroach. You can never feel nurturing towards the cockroach.

quote by Sanaa Lathan
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Cockroach

a cockroach flies above my head
and lands
near my feet

my instinct kills it outright
with a sudden stamp and there
the cockroach lies
smashed and dead

i smell stink
and never felt any regret.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Perfect Crime

the walls have as always been mute
the lizard who sees it left to another ceiling where
there are more mosquitoes
the curtains are dirty too
and dusts and stains make a good companion
and so the only witness left
to testify about the crime that has just been committed is this
cockroach

no one believes what it is telling
no matter how truthful can it be

and with one stroke of the insecticide spray
everything is erased away

the walls wish for a tongue
the lizard comes back and has nothing to tell
the mosquitoes are inside its belly
the curtains are tied with a rope
the dusts are blown by the wind

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Note For Franz Kafka

one morning
when i discover
that i have turned
into a cockroach
you may write
what i will
do
you may theorize
that since i will be
to shy to go out
of my room just like
what your character did
then i may lock my
room, not eat,
and only talk to
my sister
that i may soon hate
my father
and will soon forget
my mother

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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