Poems about lobster



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1204482

The Fox Gave the Lobster a Rose

I'm chasing an early grave down Euclid Ave
And no one is looking in the right direction

Did i mention i was on fire?


This is store-bought depression
With the white plastic bag that says THANK YOU in red lettering
Now its turned to blood
This is how you feel
When you can't recall where you were during 9/11

Give me your mass-produced discontentment

I want to smoke and not die
Sometimes i dont want to die at all
Today the oldest person in the whole-wide world took her last breath
She was 117
On her birthday last march she said her life felt too short

Where the fuck does that leave me

I wish i were born a lobster so id
Get stronger and meatier with age
And then when I'm at my prime they'd snatch me up
To sell on the market for a few hundred dollars

When you devour me remember to wear something nice


fox,  lobster,  rose.

Author: JC Moyao
+0-
Date: 02/04/2020


1132073

Phantom of the rock lobster

The instant I hit the pillow,
When I've done all I can do for that day,
Is when it haunts me the most.
I can ignore it during waking hours,
And then for some reason
The dark brings it to light.
I keep trying to convince myself I can do this,
But it's beyond me.
I can't fight off a ghost and I've tried.
I've tried to rid myself entirely of
These phantoms
That I also secretly long for.
An embodiment of intangible touches
Tend to linger lightly.
It's hard to see details within the shades
Of the shadows.
I couldn't show you.
Nor could I speak of it.
I am to suffer with ghouls and goblins
And I shall do it alone.
Shrouded in mist
Mysteriously.
I don't just hide skeletons in my closet.
I hide decay.
I hide desperation.
I hide faces.
Facts.
Fact is I lie,
I yearn for,
I remember,
Over and over and over and over and over
I remember.
Repeatedly replaying real life events.
This time around I can pause,
Play,
Rewind.
S. l. o. w. m. o. t. i. o. n.
Still frame.
You've become nothing but
A specter to me now.
Looming just barely above my senses.
You no longer possess form,
So all you can do
Is pass through.
I can't even touch you.
It gives me chills.


lobster,  phantom,  rock.

Author: L Gardener
+0-
Date: 27/01/2020

1118007

"We are Lobster Trap and we're here to rock your padagonia jackets off!"

The new Genre Tourist Punk
Is sailing the nation.
Hawaiian shirts and white keds are lining up all around Orlando to see
Up and thrifting bands like
Lobster trap,
Lighthouse tour and
Dogs welcome.

Founded in a Starbucks
By Toni and Dash,
Two MECA grads one student loan away from selling out and getting involved in
The lighthouse painting business,
The Band: Lobster Trap
Gave birth to a whole new genre.
TOURIST PUNK
Toni and Dash decided they needed to provide music that was expensive. niche.
Something unspeakably mundane.

With smash hits like
"This traffic is bullshit"
And "My name still isn't Joe".
Lobster Trap is flying
Up the American top 40
Faster than you can say socks and sandals

Sales of "I HEART LOCATION" merch has skyrocketed with every launched tour.
Crowds of L. L. bean boots and visors are Moshing, breaking poloroid cameras over each others heads in a salmon rage.

Old school punk fanatics were skeptical at middle aged middle class suits getting into their scene.
Until it hit them that they could now throw punches
At every pedestrian who ever cut them off.

"Hi thirsty, I'm Dad. " By Land of the Polite
Has been played more times in the last year then any taylor swift song.

Money once invested in college-bound middle class vacationlander spawn is being wisely spend on bands like "discount Polo",
And "Local Diner"

So listeners.
If you spend an obscene amount of money on travel fair, and over priced, cheaply made souvenirs;
Or Work in customer service thriving to see those leaf peepers choked out by their own fanny packs.
Do yourself a favor.
Road trip into your local bullmoose
Sporting your states name on your chest.
And Treat yourself to an exclusive new album
Of TOURIST PUNK.


jackets,  lobster,  rock,  trap.

Author: Nicholas Mercier Coulombe
+0-
Date: 14/01/2020

1062432

"- liddle lobster me -"

I'm goin sideways when I perish;
Want to end up, in a rock pool
In the sand.
I'll have a shiny shell,
That I can cherish,
With two claws, fer my chores;
Not a hand.
Sharing my abode with thirteen rag worm;
Who'll confirm,
That it's sunny,
By the sea,
We can wish mick the fish a happy birthday,
N the weather,
We can also,
Guarantee,
Yes I'm goin sideways when I perish,
To cherish, my rock pool by the sea,
To squirm with the worm n embellish
Another lifetime - as liddle lobster me.

Alan nettleton.


lobster.

Author: Obadiah Grey
+0-
Date: 25/11/2019


1003559

Lobster freedom

There was little shark he lived in the sea
He swam around the ocean as happy as can be
One day when he was swimming he heard a little yell
Where the noise was coming from he really couldnt tell
He swam a little closer to try and find the sound
There he saw a lobster pot stuck into the ground
Inside he saw the lobster locked inside the pot
And to free the lobster it would take a lot
The shark he used his teeth to open door
Then realeased the lobster who was free once more
Lobster he got wise and kept away from pots
Then he thanked the shark thanked him lots and lots


freedom,  lobster.

Author: WILLIAM WORTHLESS
+0-
Date: 02/10/2019

991629

Lobster pot

There was once a lobster he live in the seavery blue in color blue as blue can beone day while he was walking he came across a potlying on the seabed inside he had a trothe got into the pot as nosy as can benow he was trapped and no way to get freesuddenly he saw friendly passing topewho saw he was stuck and handed him a ropehe tied it to the pot at the bottom of seathen he pulled it hard now lobster he was freethen he thanked the tope for saving him that daythen the little lobster calmly swam away.


lobster.

Author: william worthless
+0-
Date: 22/09/2019


954860

Considering the Lobster

She might laugh if she read this
At the flat little version of her
That lives in my mind.
She may laugh
At my comparison of her
To a hideous sea spider
But hear me out
It could be touching.

David Foster Wallace wrote:
€Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience
We do not have direct access
To anyone or anything's pain but our own;
And even just the principles
By which we can infer that others experience pain
And have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain
Involve hard-core philosophy—
Metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics. ”

"[Lobsters] do have an exquisite tactile sense,
One facilitated by hundreds of thousands of tiny hairs
That protrude through their carapace.
Although encased
In what seems a solid, impenetrable armour,
The lobster can receive stimuli and impressions from without
As readily as if it possessed a soft and delicate skin. ”

And so

€We lift lobsters out of the bag
Or whatever retail container they came home in
€whereupon some uncomfortable things start to happen.
However stuporous the lobster is from the trip home, for instance,
It tends to come alarmingly to life when placed in boiling water. "

As much as I cannot comprehend the pain
Of the exquisitely tactile lobster
In a pot of boiling water,
I wonder if I could
Walk a mile in a lobster's 8 minuscule shoes
And I wonder
What it might mean or not mean to her
With her armoured yet acute exoskeleton
To be back at home with her father.

They might try to butter you up
Or snap elastic bands
Around your oversized claws
And use a wooden spoon
To try and nudge your thrashing, clinging arms
Back into the pot,
But remember:
Lobsters can live to be over 100 years old
And grow to over 20 pounds in size
Which is very large for an aquatic insect
And remember that they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws.

And DFW famously said,

€Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it. ”

And he's not a lobster either


considering,  lobster.

Author: Laura Jane
+0-
Date: 19/08/2019

939823

'Tis the Eyes of the Lobster

Tis the eyes of the Lobster: all beady and black
Little black pearls; but luster they lack
They stare and stare with nary a blink.
And heavens to Betsy if you know what they think!
With pinchers and crushers and blood of blue
I'm not so sure I'd want one in my stew!
The new year dawns and here am I
Writing of lobsters and I'm not sure why!
Oh, but I jest and of course I do!
€Twas a bet! I lost! And now pay my due.
Sincere apologies to those who read.
I know it's rough. I must complete this deed.
I hope this ditty; whatever it be
Fits the bill and you're more than pleased, --!


eyes,  lobster,  tis.

Author: Kate Little
+0-
Date: 06/08/2019

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