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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.

[...] Read more

poem by Orlando Belo
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Put a tiger in the gas tank.

a meal of knuckle sandwich and humble pie

krupa could make swiss cheese out of Roach
If he can catch him that is.

Roach is burning in the ash tray
while Krupa is burning up the drapes

Roach is in putter around outer space
he places your finger on the pulse

Krupa is like an octopus arms all over the place
Roach is like an electric eels embrace

Roach knows foreplay but krupa surprises me
just depends on my mood I guess

poem by Jerome Moore
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Caseworker Takes Notes

I was there the day
there trickled down the wall
of an old man's room one roach

that stopped across
a canyon in the plaster till
the old man's elevated slipper fell.

The roach absorbed the blow
and as though perforated for that purpose
dissolved into an archipelago.

The old man looked at me
and patiently explained, 'Despite my
constant smacking of its brethren

one roach each day will trickle down that wall
and pause and pose as if to say,
'Go ahead and smack me, that's okay.' '

[...] Read more

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Scuttle, Scuttle, Little Roach

SCUTTLE, scuttle, little roach—
How you run when I approach:
Up above the pantry shelf,
Hastening to secrete yourself.

Most adventurous of vermin,
How I wish I could determine
How you spend your hours of ease,
Perhaps reclining on the cheese.

Cook has gone, and all is dark—
Then the kitchen is your park:
In the garbage heap that she leaves
Do you browse among the tea leaves?

How delightful to suspect
All the places you have trekked:
Does your long antenna whisk its
Gentle tip across the biscuits?

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poem by Christopher Morley
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Archie Roach, Ruby Hunter and Shane Howard

He is as near to his old home in Framlingham as he might wish to be
In Killarney between Warrnambool and Port Fairy by the Pacific sea
With the renowned Ruby Hunter his long time soul mate
The legendary Archie Roach an Aussie music great.

Their neighbour and friend is Shane Howard the singer songwriter supreme
Those three together what a musical team
Together great music and songs they will compose
Great talents are born to be great one would have to suppose.

They do not come any greater it does seem to me
Than Archie Roach, Ruby Hunter and Shane Howard old Killarney's big three
For their talents and achievements them one can only admire
And to even greater things each other they will inspire.

Between Warrnambool City and Port Fairy Town
In Beautiful Killarney of scenic renown
Live three Australian entertainers each in their own right a great name
As singer songwriters they enjoy Worldwide fame.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Cockroach

Roach, foulest of creatures,
who attacks with yellow teeth
and an army of cousins big as shoes,
you are lumps of coal that are mechanized
and when I turn on the light you scuttle
into the corners and there is this hiss upon the land.
Yet I know you are only the common angel
turned into, by way of enchantment, the ugliest.
Your uncle was made into an apple.
Your aunt was made into a Siamese cat,
all the rest were made into butterflies
but because you lied to God outrightly-
told him that all things on earth were in order-
He turned his wrath upon you and said,
I will make you the most loathsome,
I will make you into God's lie,
and never will a little girl fondle you
or hold your dark wings cupped in her palm.

But that was not true. Once in New Orleans

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Sexton
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Like His Mother Nature

Despite advanced medical technology people still age and die
And though people on an average live longer now one fact we can't deny
Is that the Reaper who claims every life will one day claim your's and mine
Each day we live we draw closer to our lives finish line.

If wealthy people could live forever more how awful that would be
'Twould seem that Nature would be punishing all of those in poverty
But Nature can't be bribed or bought she is beyond reproach
She does not differentiate between the life of a Human Being or the water dwelling Roach.

Yes nature is beyond reproach she treats as equal all
From the World's most influential Human Being to the wood louse in garden wall
And the Reaper the son of Nature for all of us he wait
He claims the life of each living thing and he does not differentiate

Between the life of a Human Being and a Cockroach whom he does treat the same
He will not spare you just because you have great wealth and fame
And like his Mother Nature he is beyond reproach
He will claim the life of the great Monarch and the water dwelling Roach.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Death Of A Cockroach

I opened wide the bath-room door,
And all at once switched on the light,
When moving swift across the floor
I saw a streak of ebon bright:
Then quick, with slipper in my hand,
Before it could escape,--I slammed.
I missed it once, I missed it twice,
But got it ere it gained its lair.
I fear my words were far from nice,
Though d----s with me are rather rare:
Then lo! I thought that dying roach
Regarded me with some reproach.

Said I: "Don't think I grudge you breath;
I hate to spill your greenish gore,
But why did you invite your death
By straying on my bath-room floor?"
"It is because," said he (or she),
"Adventure is my destiny.

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poem by Robert William Service
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Bosnia Tune

As you pour yourself a scotch
Crush a roach or check your watch
As your hands adjust your tie people die

In the towns with funny names
Hit by bullets, caught in flames
By and large not knowing why people die

And in small places you don't know of
Yet big for having no chance to scream
Or say good-bye people die

Chorus: La, la... Let me know

People die as you elect
New apostles of neglect, self restraint
Whereby people die Too far off to practice love
For thy neighbour, brother Slav
Where your cherubs dread to fly people die

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poem by Joseph Brodsky
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Up All Night

Can we talk about automatic satisfaction
Sittin' back relaxin' floored
What's wrong with kickin it
When you're bored and lit
Lets smoke some cigarettes
And catch up on the back porch
Fire up another roach
We don't need a rest this is just a test
Cuz we're alright, we're up all night
To see the sun come up again now
Just one more time no reason why
To see the sun come up again.
The more we try to change
The more we stay the same
We're caught up in the game and now
Just like empty picture frames
So now were to blame
Said we were gettin down, on genesee and fountain
Smelled another mountain now
If you aint gettin down, you'll come around

[...] Read more

song performed by Unwritten Law
Added by Lucian Velea
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