Tag: rhymes

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Human Virology

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Ecology,
psychology,
pathology,
and virology;

work in unison,
to make a human,
something more than,
but a shoe in,

the door of intellect,
whilst standing erect–
bipeds of great affect–
whose greatest defect,

is fearing one another,
as though without mother,
nor Earth as our lover,
and no man our brother,

nor woman our sister.
So please excuse the mister,
whom should not have kissed her,
with that hatred he’d courted– a festering blister.

So with Earthen ecology,
and wandering psychology,
we become forms of pathology.
That in turn,
and aligned through morphology,
are known as human virology.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: The Ball for Society

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Leave the world better than you entered it,
or else don’t come at all.
‘Cause laziness is rife with indecision,
and society’s come to call.

Its lights are on,
and the porch awaits,
for you to sit upon.
So take your place.

Not merely one of you,
but all.
Change can’t happen otherwise–
no matter how big or small.

Stiffen your lips,
so that all may see,
and come sway your hips,
at the Ball for Society.

Where wit and wisdom’s profound,
and blood from your heart does pour,
So use it, or lose it on the sound,
of your ass hitting the floor.

For if we don’t help the world grow,
than no-one will,
or even show,
but there’s work to do still.

Bonus Poem: You Died!

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Skulls and torture,
blisters of pain,
boils on hollows,
that cry out your name.

Dark is the soul,
of the undead laid claim,
to the slaughtered foul,
in the wrath of rain.

Rank, rotten teeth,
in a smile from hell,
mired in the meek,
what bloody secrets you tell.

From the edge of a blade made of scorn,
to the tip of the tooth,
blows the war’s hallowed horn,
while in fire is the truth,
e’er to be reborn.

Seek out the sisters,
alone in the mists,
comfort the statues,
fallen amid trysts

And when from the edges of hell you return,
remember the souls of the wanton, forlorn,
For these are the creatures that like you will burn,
in the pits and fires, your souls to be torn.

Seek out the knowledge,
It cleverly fits,
in a narrative fashion,
that requires wits.

Remember to roll,
the dice to one side,
lest you see the toll,
once more; “You died!”

Poetry-Thing Thursday: One Ugly Goat

~ S.M. Nolan ~ 2 Comments

Cloning the dialect,
of a brain unerect,
cannot help deflect,
ignorance, shame, or lack of intellect.

Posing on podiums,
and razing auditoriums,
with stubborn, lost boredium,
how untoward of ’em.

Give ’em a blue pill,
they rise like a hill,
cause they’re a flammable still,
with pants burning at-will.

They open their jowls,
release lies as if bowels,
so don’t forget towels,
in the presence of such fowls.

They’re nothing but swine,
discordant waves of sine,
with brains unlike thine–
how for intelligence we pine!

So go cast your vote,
but don’t sell your boat,
or throw out your coat,
for the elephant and ass,
make one ugly goat!