Category: Myths & Folklore

Kosher Insecta

~ Toastingfork ~ 1 Comment
fried beetles

Kosher Insecta

“…all other flying creeping things, which have four feet, shall be an abomination unto you.”

– Leviticus 11: 23

Chow down on the damselflies,
Munch upon their crop –
Bite into their compound eyes
Until you feel them pop.
Scoff on moths and feast on ’wigs,
Or ’skaters, ’skeeters, whirligigs –
And aphids served up by the dish
With ladybirds and silverfish.

Count the legs to know the score.
If six apiece, our bugs are pure.

Chomp upon the wasp when ripe
And pluck each silky wing,
Chew upon its barley-stripe
And suck its juicy sting.
Scarabs sate the palate well,
Just don’t forget to crack the shell –
While maggots taste so sweet and young,
When slowly melting on the tongue.

Count each foot and thigh and shin –
When legs are six, we never sin.

But locusts and crickets
All look like they’ve rickets
With bandy gert hindlegs for springing around.
And mantids, you’re saying
Have forelimbs for praying.
But all use all six when they creep on the ground.
And fleas, if you please, walk the hexa-gait too –
(At least, in the circus they do.)

So count each leg, each gnat and bee –
For six is fit anatomy !

*****

But feast not on the mutants,
The foul four-leggèd mutants !
Such creeping fowls thou shalt not eat,
With legs above their feet.

Beware the peacock butterfly !
With four leg-legs and foreleg combs.
Beware the mantidfly, they cry !
And drive these devils from our homes.

Then feast not on the spine that’s rimmed by six,
With shoulders double-limbed.
So count the struts in which they’re clad –
Six legs good, four legs bad.

And I heard of some bats in New Zealand
Who go on all-fours on the floor
Their wings get tucked up, and each free hand
Is def’nit’ly walked on, for sure !

So shout it out to congregations –
None shall taste abominations !
Heresies thou shalt not eat
With legs above their feet.

So gather, gather for the feast
Of insects, great and small.
They’re pure and kosher, ev’ry beast –
Six-leggèd, one and all !

I have seen footage of a mantidfly use it’s forelimbs to help pull itself up a wall, but on the flat at least they seem to keep them folded up.  The unrelated praying mantis does similar, but I think may use it’s forelimbs for locomotion a bit more often.  But the real champions are the brush-footed butterlies (peacocks, monarchs, tortoiseshells, red admirals) whose front ‘legs’ are far too short for standing on.  Probably best not to eat them, just in case…

As for birds, they use their forelimbs for flying, or swimming (penguins), or display and balance (ostriches), but never for weight-bearing locomotion.  The only partial exception are the hoatzin and the unrelated turacos whose chicks have claws on their wings which they use to climb (but not walk), and which are lost as they fledge.  The pterosaors were  a different matter, with azhdarchids in particular showing a preference to spend longer on the ground scampering around on all-fours, but of course they hadn’t survived Noah’s Ark…

Oh, and the narrator seems to have forgotten that bats are specifically forbidden in Leviticus 11:19, so avoiding New Zealand bats in favour of flying foxes is no help.  Although…did ‘bat’ really mean bat ?  I’ve pondered on that over here.

Thy Name is Edom

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
detail from The Last Supper by Carl Bloch

Thy Name is Edom

Judas in paintings is often the one
Who’s sporting the bright carrot hair.
What does this signify, why was this done ?
For redheaded Jews were exception’ly rare.
Maybe he dyed it with henna, of course,
For most nat’ral gingers were Celtic or Norse,
So who were the genealogical source
Of Judas Iscariotson ?

Edom has nothing to do with Judas, being the brother of Isaac in Genesis, but his name means ‘red’ in Hebrew.

Trans-Galactic Relations

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
amazon women
still from Amazon Women on the Moon

Trans-Galactic Relations

How will love fare on a far, strange planet ?
Something tells me, just fine.
Astronauts are after all as human as the rest,
On those long and lonely voyages to Sigma Ceti Nine.
It really doesn’t matter how Control attempts to plan it –
Some eventualities are harder to decline,
And improvised solutions are unlikely to be guessed
Until that fateful moment when our instincts come online.

Then to the fore comes ambiguity,
When foreign incongruity’s the only game in town.
But, when it comes to promiscuity,
Then human ingenuity will never let us down.

We are the pioneers
Across the galaxy we plumb
We are the copuleers
We boldly go and boldly come

So Human-Alien exchanges probe
To grasp a firmer bond –
Exploring green and grey and blond,
Until enquiring ends combine
In intimate communion.
We’ll scout each sucker, fin and lobe,
And softly test how they respond
To fingers from the great beyond –
And arms and tentacles entwine
In interstellar union.

I have heard it suggested that humans would be disgusted by anything even-slightly non-human. After all, for all we snigger at bestiality, it’s a very rare proclivity. And just look at our closest neighbours, the chimps – when the females are in heat, their genitals swell up to advertise the fact, though good luck getting any human gentlemen callers with that trick !

So if we’re six million years too distant for Pan-spermia, what hope have we of getting horny for alien horns ? Well, I think it’s a case of uncanny valley and not marrying cousins. After all, there’s way more octopus porn than monkey business.

You Bet Your Life

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
ball casino chance gamble
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

You Bet Your Life

Blaise Pascal once placed a Bet,
And for a Stake he risked his Soul:
“If of Gods there’s Nothing yet,
Then all our Faith can’t fill the Hole –
But then, since no God will Notice,
For no God then Is at all,
So our Prayers unto Abyss
Have done no Harm nor broke no Law.

But, should I now choose Desisting,
Claiming Heavens are Unmanned –
And, should now our Lord be lis’ning,
So shall He declare me Damned.
Therefore, weighing Odds and Chances,
Losses made and Gains received,
Wager wise where Luck enhances:
’Tis far Safer we Believed.”

Roll up !  Roll up !  The Tote is open,
Honest Blaise the Bookie always gives the Smartest Odds.
And ev’ry Sharp and Rookie can apply
His Patent Foolproof System to the Big Game in the Sky.
Poker-Face Pascal knows the Score,
He’s Croupier to the Heavenly Draw –
He’s got the Inside Track on Hoping,
He’s the Turf Accountant to the Gods.

Alas, Blaise, your God is not
The Only Game to play in Town,
A thousand other Evens Lots
Can yet be Laid when eyes are Down.
Such Longshots aren’t worth a Flutter,
Spin the Wheel and watch the Ball,
And pray it Lands within your Gutter –
Better not to bet at All.

So, whichever Gods are Winners,
Rank us Luckless all the same:
As Heretics and Bankrupt Sinners –
Even those not in the Game.
And if I Bust, I’m Damned if they
Shall claim the only Stake I’ve got.
But Stick or Twist, collect or Pay,
Let’s ante-up the Mortal Pot.

Roll up !  Roll up !  The Gods are waiting
Three Prayers for a Fiver, and the Fate Tombolas roll !
Now ev’ry Saint and Skiver gets to play
With Aces high and Jokers wild, and Tabs till Judgment Day.
Brokerman Blaisey knows the bid,
With Afterlife Shares just seven-a-quid:
He has the Dope and Gen and Rating,
He’s the Underwriter to the Soul.

Sunnis & Cartoonies

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
Mohammed
detail from Portrait of the Prophet Muhammad riding the Buraq, 1820-30 Indian

Sunnis & Cartoonies

Tell your children, tell your spouse,
Use a biro, use a mouse,
Ev’rybody in the house –
Doodle-up Mohammed !
Take a minute, take a day,
When at your lunch or at your play,
Ev’rybody, sketch away !
Scribble-down Mohammed !
Draw his eyes and draw his nose
Draw his fingers, draw his toes
What’s he look like ?  No-one knows !
Draw, you all, Mohammed !

Draw him as an diplomat,
Draw him as a Knicks fan,
Draw him as an acrobat,
Draw him as a stick-man,
Draw him seemly, draw him sleazy,
Draw him dreamy, draw him cheesy,
Draw him any way you pleasy
Draw your pen but not your blade.
Draw to show our common sense
Or draw to show we take offence
Or draw to show they try to censor.
Draw to show we’re not afraid.

Tell the Arabs, tell the Brits,
Use your pencils, use your wits,
Ev’rybody, Bics not blitz !
Don’t let’s awe him, let’s all draw him !
Ev’ry colleague, guest and mate,
Join the party, bring debate.
Ev’rybody – love not hate !
Come, let’s draw Mohammed !

Aves Rupublica

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
bird birds usa raven
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Aves Republica

We all know what will happen
If these ravens quit the Tower –
Strange to think these scavengers
Should hold such royal power –
To keep the crown from toppling,
They are crippled in one wing,
To fawn and clown for punters,
(All still peasants of the king.)

But you should be flying, Raven,
You should have flown,
For what cares a raven for propping-up thrones ?
Be mightier, Raven, than magpie or rook –
For the higher you fly, so the smaller we look.

We all know what will happen
If these ravens quit the Tower –
So much like us, they’re savaged
Just to keep the nobs in power.
They’re victim of Victorians,
They’re prisoners to lore –
If only they could bring them down,
And goad them “Nevermore !”

For you should be soaring, Raven,
You should be gone,
For what cares a raven for owners of swans ?
Be mighty, oh Raven, and help us stand tall –
For the higher you fly, so the further they fall.

The whole myth only started in Victorian times, and to this day these magnificaent birds are denied their natural instinct to fly for the sake of tourist pounds.

Wherefore by their Fruits ye Shall Know Them

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
pexels-photo-267559.jpeg
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Wherefore by their Fruits ye Shall Know Them

And thus the Lord saith until Satan
“Testest thou my great creation,
Tempt and trick and lead astray:
The Righteous shall refuse to play,
And know thy works and block thy game,
And firm upon the path remain.”

The Devil thought and mused awhile,
Then broke into demonic smile,
And so with cunning, wrote a tome
Forged deep within his hellish home
With hints and winks and clues abound
To show itself corrupt, unsound.

For here was found a petty god
Who knew no mercy, spared no rod,
But set such rules upon His flock
Which He Himself would break and mock,
And kill His own as took His fancy –
Proud and jealous tyrant, He.

Alas, Old Nick does now succeed
Too well, as heretics still bleed,
And signs are begged from out the skies,
As morals spring derived from lies –
The Faithful, though, shall call absurd
This book, and not believe a word.

The First Second-Coming

~ Toastingfork ~ 1 Comment
buddha

The First Second-Coming

“All praise to Buddha !
God-son of Maya,
Born unto a Virgin,
On the twenty-fifth December.
Heralding his coming
Was a brightly shining star,
Gifts betrothed by Wise Men,
Songs by Angel-Choir.

Teaching in the Temple,
Twelve and on his todd,
Then baptised in the presence
Of the Spirit of the God.
Tempted hard by Mara,
Tempted while he fasted.
Feeder of five-hundred
From a small cake-basket.”

Or so I’ve heard it said by a suspicious few
Who desperately, desperately, want it to be true.
Are deities amalgams, at least in the telling ?
I can well believe it, but not the kind they’re selling.
But then, what do I really know about such secret lore ?
Perhaps you ought to tell me more…

“Healer of the sickened,
Walker on the water,
Renouncer of the World,
And poverty supporter.
A Kingdom of Righteousness
He built and oversaw –
Then came he down unto us
To fulfil the written Law.

Died upon a cross,
The rumour-mill endorses.
Sealed up in a tomb
Which rent by magic forces.
Rose up from the dead,
Ascended to Nirvana –
Promised to return
For Judgement on our karma.”

Or so I’ve heard it said by the endless games
Who never cite their sources and never check their claims.
Are deities amalgams, or cliches, or hopes ?,
With ev’ryone drawing on the same common tropes ?
I guess that the gods are our latent thoughts aloud
And the prayers go to the ones who please the crowd.

I read all the facts for this poem on a website a long time ago, and have never got round to verifying them, so this version of Buddha might be total bollocks – but then, all versions of Buddha are total bollocks.

Edit – I’ve decided not to check (well, more like finally admitted that I couldn’t be bothered to check) into what I strongly suspect is complete BS – so instead I’ve added the third and sixth verses.

Of Lost & Found Cities

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
beige analog gauge
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

Of Lost & Found Cities

Nineveh and Babylon have crumbled into dust,
Carthage, Ur and Jericho are pillars in the sand;
Once they were such glories, true – bustling and august –
But now reduced to legends and faint markings on the land.
London, though, is still alive, still growing and unplanned,
Not like dead Persepolis, where only mem’ry roams.
Ephesus and Ashkelon are sinking, gust by gust.
Luxor, Thebes and Memphis, now preserved in ancient tomes,
Sumer, Sardis, Akkad and Knossos are unmanned.
London, though, is standing yet, and just as grim and grand.
Middle-aged, with stuccoed bays and stock-brick-golden domes;
Humble tracks now avenues, from Oxford Street to Strand,
Yet keeps forever youthful as it builds and fells its homes.
Many structures barely make a century’s employ,
Ere yet another edifice is raised upon its bones;
And so King’s Cross and Bishopsgate, and Knightsbridge and Savoy
Have thus by slow rebuilding changed their slates and paving-stones.
Once an early city stood, whose name we still enjoy,
But now that ancient London’s quite as lost as Kish and Troy.

The Devil May Care

~ Toastingfork ~ Leave a comment
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Devil May Care

The old man lay in bed and watched
His body eaten to decay.
How strong he’d been in his old day,
How weak he was today, how scotched.
How great his all-too-mortal fear,
How much he’d give for one more year –
He’d even sell his soul to get
To keep it in his body yet –
For even thought the end was near,
He longed to ante-up for one last bet.

“Indeed ?” a voice replied at large
In answer to his silent thought.
“Perhaps the bargain you have sought
Can be arranged, and free of charge.
Yet not a miracle, alas,
But biologic working-class –
To give your soul an unfair bite,
I bring a little hope tonight –
For while it’s true all thing must pass,
It passes slower for those souls who fight !”