h1

The Human is a Social Animal

January 15, 2005

4/1984 (edited 1/2005)


The human is a social animal,
Its ways are not our ways.
It sits at parties, chats with friends,
All happy joyous days.


But as for us, the human race,
We kill with loving ire.
We never live with joy, just strife,
Excel in friendly fire.

Advertisements

7 comments

  1. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    I’m trying to grip the meaning in this poem, and it’s driving me nuts! In a good way, I mean. It certainly is a poem to make the reader think. I’ll come back to this if I can figure out what I think/what I think about it later.


  2. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    Glad to know it’s working. 🙂

    I’m also not sure if I am finished with it or not… Still trying to figure out if it needs more…

    I kind of like it open to interpretation.


  3. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    the human is set for a purpose
    for which he should ponder
    this life so brief, as a passing journey to somewhere even further
    what benefits are all the glitters
    that obscures the sight and leaves one in bitters
    a testing ground indeed we are in
    with all the trials and joys within
    our purpose is even greater
    do not put it to be thought about later..


  4. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    Passerby: Like it a lot!

    Thanks for sharing it!


  5. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    Hi Daniel, i’ll share mine with you too. Twas something i wrote awhile back on a family forum/site for fun.

    je espere que vous aimez!

    At forks I stand in yellow-wooded road,
    First foot lay I upon the printless path,
    Does obscure my vision in blazing swath
    The golden flake, unwell to me does bode.

    What sight is mine down yonder snaking lane?
    Do gentle whispered winds caress my slack?
    Or misted in swirling foliate rain,
    Will patter I across this unsound track?

    Oh bard — what road less traveled by is yours?
    No, no, not I, in ages hence shall sigh,
    For stormy trails and emptied fortune’s stores.
    A simple way — I might as well not try.


  6. This comment moved from the old blog site — original date lost.

    Evil Sins

    The red, dazzling glare of her black, beady, coal eyes
    Drugged me into immorality.
    Evil softly chanted for my Goosebumps to rise,
    Lulling the biting coldness of midnight onto my
    Innocent, virgin skin.
    Her charcoal-smudged face and half-closed eyes,
    And tainted lips,
    Parted with pearly, institutional white showing,
    And tangled, onyx hair,
    Dim and dank and dripping with blood,
    Penetrated my naivety.
    Evil whispered fiercely through clenched teeth,
    “Come,
    Come,
    Come.”
    Her ghost-like hand silhouette scrambled breathlessly,
    Up my pure hairless chest,
    Down my untouched scrawny legs,
    And circling my chaste boyish face.
    Her white blur of a body silenced my surly groan.
    Moan, moan, and moan, I stiffened with fear helplessly,
    Clutching the Satan satin sheets of my two-story bunk bed.
    Evil gasped for air with each strokes,
    As if my vestal body stifled her.
    A blast of her warm and sticky puffs fondled my face, and
    I gritted my teeth and curled my toes to its contaminated caress.
    My jaws tightened.
    I surrendered to Evil in my childhood bedroom.


  7. I am necessary wish to find



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: