Sandy was a chocoholic,
The worst I've ever seen!
If she didn't eat some daily,
She'd become crazy mean!
It didn't matter what kind it was,
Ice cream, cake, pie or candy,
As long as it was chocolate,
Sandy was fine and dandy!
Then one day the unthinkable happened,
To the chocolate loving miss,
While eating her favorite candy,
She choked on a chocolate kiss!
"Death by chocolate," the coroner concluded,
As to the cause of Sandy's death.
At least she died doing what she loved,
Eating chocolate til her last breath.
11/21/11 for Natalie the Rogue Rhymer's
"Die a fun Death" contest
Morning light fills in the details
hidden by last night's new moon.
His pillow bears no dent, seems colder
than the draft that she needs to find
and fix, soon, before winter sets in.
It means going into the workshop,
poking through sticky, old drawers,
a territory that was never truly hers.
She must find the caulking gun and try
not to stare at that festooned hat,
the once well-cared for fishing gear
robed in cobwebs, a calendar unturned,
bowling trophies, an empty chair,
one model schooner never finished.
She pours a mug of coffee, though she
prefers tea, slowly steeped in a proper
pot, loose leaf oolong, nicely cozied.
His mug is too large, too practical, too grey,
and her small hand is more familiar with
English bone china, roses and ribbons,
the romantic pattern of their days.
There is a slight dip in the kitchen floor
as though he is still standing by the stove,
as though the tiles hold onto him, too.
Thirty years of omelets, his way-
polish sausage, spanish onion,
over cooked, over salted.
She expects to hear
the whisk, his voice, laughter.
Weekends they'd shop at the market,
Farm fresh eggs, he'd said, were best,
worth the trip and he'd indulge her
love of something sweet or
surprise her with marmalade,
clover honey in tiny jars.
She opens the fridge door, takes out the
cream and settles for toast with jam,
thinks about canceling his subscription
to Sports Illustrated, Rod and Reel,
but decides to wait until tomorrow.
She sees the egg carton, reads:
brown. free run. flax fed.
Some chickens just have it good,
he'd said. Oh, he'd said that often.
She stills and her shell breaks
as she notes the best before date...
Two months have passed since
her world expired.
When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry
Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest
was taking a bath on hills.
Trees were waiting
for the curtains to rise.
Scented stars would make
giant scars on the clouds,
I would make peace with the sky.
Lids of human greed were laden
with golden dust, I was hoisting the skull.
Of a virgin god who did not
want to live for the blotched up creation.
The decline was obvious. Truth
had refused to climb
on the sky-blue, salted peaks of springs.
Body had arrived,
mourners quietly wailing.
Gouged eyes could not decipher
the script on the halved pyramid.
Sun was sucking the clay.
Dust covered crawled like worms, had no concern
Found on ground ripened apple’s bitter juice
Digging in gluttony without discern
Dark heart in matter chooses wrong produce
Climb from trunk to branches long journey true
Building without rest to sleep in cocoon
While feeding on nourishment from fruit grew
Rise from sleep to sail high sky like balloon
Head hung low, I walk the street-
Timid to feel the hangman's loss-
Every step on my blistered feet-
Takes me closer to, the Christian cross-
With every second, my soul does exhaust-
Heat-ridden cheeks from tears I cry-
Hide my eyes my shame is discreet-
Explain to me God, why must I die?
You say the hunger game I did cheat-
I see on that hangman's rope your hands across-
How close I was to starvation beat-
Why must I die for naught but sauce-
On bread instead of my usual moss-
I hope you see my little child cry-
Although to you unjust is a treat-
Hold him God on the day he will die-
With my head hung low, I walk the street-
My family will feel the hangman;s loss-
No more will I walk upon these blistered feet-
Family go, live your life by the Christian Cross-
For my soul is tired, don't let your life exhaust-
My dear sweet loved ones there is no need to cry-
No more reason for you to stand all so discreet-
I am happy at last, on the day that I die-
I will live the rest of my life upon a Christian's Cross-
These murderers relax themselves on their own lie-
In a few short moments I won't feel anymore loss-
I will lift up my head and all so proudly I will die-
TO THE FACTORY
TO THE SLAUGHTER
TO THE TABLE
INTO THE GREEDY MOUTHS
GOODBYE LAMBS, PIGS AND COWS
Heaven's Rainbow Bridge
green grass and blue skys
fresh water and food to eat
no hunger--no pain
dear friends wait beyond
prismatic spectrumed colours
heaven's rainbow bridge
In 1994, William N. Britton wrote the , "Legend of Rainbow Bridge". It is a hope filled story of where all (pets) "special friends" go when they leave this earth. It's a place of "beautiful meadows, grassy hills...fresh spring water...plenty of their favorite food to eat...others to play with...". That place is called "Rainbow Bridge" and it is where they wait until we get there, "just this side of Heaven", so we may go in together. db
It was the Southern French window blowing open
he came in the night no word spoken
The eyes so sensual and piercing me as if nothing matters
he is all I think of now as each day I grow weaker
I will soon die unsure of my fate
my life I will give to him a offering I ask him to take
This man so desirable with dark eyes and hair
even if he is not a man but a beast
I no longer care I submit to the last drop of blood
As I lay with a cotton white gown in a locked room
I throw my rope of Garlic far to be seen
Nothing can stop this now longing and lustful
feeling like I'm in a forever dream
I wait for him too enter
I wait for him
willing to die
I wait losing my Religion
The Vampires offering am I
" For That Archaic Poets contest " Shanity Rain
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
Widow in making
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
Dollars always help .
But the parched earth always wins .
More than dough required .
Inspired by Sami's "piece of bread" , contest .
Summer’s Spilled Milk
City dwellers pumped;
Oil effused into ocean,
Ocean creatures died.
Come little children- come and eat-There’s plenty all scattered about
Stale flat bread and biscuit crumbles -You must dig them out
Banana peelings and lettuce leafs -You may clean the dirt off neat
Perhaps the peelings of a Fu Fu dish- just to make a sweet
Come little one- come and eat- The little child’s belly cries
The flies will lead you to bush meat- the maggots where it lies
Coconut and cassava cakes- perhaps a little rice
Just below the burning heap where the neighbor’s dead dog lies
The smorgasbord lies beyond the hill-the town’s other side
Forgive the stench- just pass the boneyard -where your nine year old brother died
Even predators have mothers
and with the soft mewling eyes of infancy
they search, search for the breast of mother
the beak, the tooth, the talon, the claw…
Children worldwide hunger.
The small weak voices and stone dead eyes calling out
to those who have…
Mothers making stone soup.
Mothers giving of their own body the last
remnants of harsh life as the haves
go on safari’s or to zoos to
feed the animals.
Five free range chickens surviving earth’s natural selection...
Spring flowers began to emerge while “Hefei” and hens explored.
Wary of snakes and possums, they moved about with caution.
Hunting, pecking and scratching, together in one accord -
One hen snuck into a pitched tent to lay her lovely eggs.
Behind some plants over wintered in a place nice and warm.
With shattered wing and broken shells, she felt survival plagues.
She emerged escaping death this time, enduring deform.
A few days later, she was gone, feathers strewn about.
One hen, then, another hid…sitting on precious eggs.
Within a month, the strutting rooster crowed his prideful shout.
Nineteen little chicks scurried out close to two hens legs.
ã June 7, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Eggs, but NO epulaeryus
Sponsored by: Black Eyed Susan
Tis sore int' thwait
wi mor'n a few folks a gippy
loose tha's snap as M'pessons well
n tek sum brass from t'watter
na its nowt but a mickle midden
but them folks as a good un, narry a one of 'em flit
tek thasen a gander
but the's nowt in Eyam save 'plague
It is bad in the village
with more than a few people sick
Leave your food at Mompessons Well
and take some money from the water
Now it's nothing but a big mess
But the villagers are good people, not any one of them has left
Take yourself a look
but there is nothing in Eyam except the Plague
The village of Eyam in Derbyshire was hit by the plague at the same time as London (1665),
the villagers self imposed a quarantine to prevent the disease spreading any further, the
surrounding villages left food at a well near Eyam, in exchange for money which had been
left in the vinegar filled well to clean it.
For "Sista's Bloody Sista's" contest run by Deborah Guzzi
Evil thoughts equal sin
One must purge them within
When the coven of ill-willed women seek revenge,
from anyone they deem too big for their britches,
They go to the book of sorcery for witches,
In the book, they seek deliverance from women
who shine brighter than morning stars,
looking for panaceas and disasters,
Brews that could curl their hair and tarnish their shoes,
Nothing short of voodoo,
They'd even stoop to mixing up batches of goulash,
sprinkled with feces, and disguised by hash,
Their boundaries are limitless when they want to anhiliate,
They would go as far as tempting fate,
A feast of feces becomes no trouble at all,
when they want to cast anyone away,
so they may become the Belles of the Balls.......
This is a tale for you regarding Pandora and the box.
Here we find an attempt to put back on the lock
A trip back to Alexandria in your mind we must go
Trying to protect but you can’t turn back the clock
What had tried to be sealed is not what one expect
Only wanting to keep others from trying to dissect
The library was vast holding knowledge long passed
Gallant was the attempt though evil did misdirect
Someone had already check out these 365 books
See the flames raised high the city did overcook
Spread them north and east so ordered the beast
Because at the Star he did not want you to look
when my body is done
put me in an oven
and bury my ashes in a
sea salt shaker
scatter me sparingly
as you would
a fine condiment
in a recipe
into your daily life
during its preparation
we may add the flavor
and the texture
of the past
when it is all gone
the sea salt shaker
F A M I N E II
(Thousands of children, all over the world, die every day for lack of food)
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 MAY 2013
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
I do not know?
I RUN from FEAR.
I HUNT for FEAR.
I HIDE in FEAR.
I FIGHT cause of FEAR.
I'm FAR from you.
I'm SCARED cause of you.
You're the FEAR that I HUNT.
You're the FEAR that I FIGHT.
You're the FEAR that SCARED me for LIFE.
*Comment if you have any thought and if you like it. oh and some of the poems i write arn't
always my feelings. their some times just to get through other people so they can have
something to read that just fit's them.*
I do not know?
Waiting, waiting, waiting
Red blood seep
Curdles in heat
the sun, the sun
To warm my anaphylactic tongue
I do not know?
main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udti hu khule aasman me
jise n koi chinta, kisi ke shikar karne ki
udati rahu puri jindagi, aajad pakshi ki trah
koi n rakhe mujhe bandhi bna kar
udati rahu, udati rahu, aajad pakshi ki trah
khane ke liye bhatku idhar -udhar
n mile mujhe khane ke liye
bhukhe pet hi so jau
kitne bhi kasht mile, has kar sah lu unhe
koi phark n pade, ab kisi kasht ka
aadat hi ho gayi ab hume
main hu ek aajad pakshi ki trah
udati hu khule aasman me
I hope and pray, I never die like this.
For this would not have any bliss.
Running to a room with pain in chest,
Maybe from something I did digest.
Hoping to get rid of something thwarted,
Dying from heart attack as it departed.
Sitting upon a white porcelain throne,
This is not the way I want to be known.
Though hopefully my actions will pass,
Maybe oh maybe, it’s only a little gas.
If I were a king, then I wouldn’t mind.
Upon a golden throne they would find.
That I had died in gracious peace at last.
Though, my before mentioned place aghast,
Since I am no king, to pass away in jest,
There’re worse ways to die, then doing my best.
Sponsor Natalie The Rogue Rhymer
Contest Name Die A 'Fun' Death Contest
Time And Chance
“11 I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all. 12 Moreover, no one knows when their hour will come: As fish are caught in a cruel net, or birds are taken in a snare, so people are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them.” Phil 3:18-21 NIV
The race is not won by the swift,
Nor is the battle won by the strong.
Wealth is not given to the brilliant,
Nor food to the wise belong.
Favor is not given to the learned
And death not claimed only by the old.
Men are trapped by evil
‘Til their bodies grow still and cold.
Time And Chance affect all mankind—
No man knows when his hour will come.
Wisdom belongs to God;
All wisdom above and under the sun.
Time And Chance are in His hands;
Many simply must comply.
God builds up or breaks down;
Kings and nations to occupy.
Fools are placed in high positions,
And the rich are often laid low.
Is everything understood by man?
How does God work on earth below?
If clouds are full of water,
They pour rain upon the earth.
But man is a mystery;
Time And Chance not in his death or birth.
We do not understand the hand
That makes the seed spring forth;
How the human body is formed,
Or how the womb gives birth.
Time And Chance are the equation
That only God does know.
Man is truly ignorant of how
Time And Chance works here below.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
im restricted with youre choices
it makes me wanna cry
im surrounded by voices
that say, girl , why
youre amaizing and u know it
i dont have to say
i think youve forgotten but somehow it got away
he seems to control u
no matter what u do
its coming up sooooooo often but some how it gets to u
and baby dont defend cause i swear ill leave u in the end
Selfish and greedy they grasp at one cause
Blind be the dead denying Natures laws
From a distance the sound of feathers
A whole host of words often whispered
As if you haven't already heard his saving message
In bitter silence we slowly become unshackled
From this lying bitter place of cold ego's
Then angel spreads her wings out on windows peak
She then keeps silent from inside her swell;
At its cold whispers haunting to dwell
Many keep to themselves not wanting to be alone
Then a cold chill sends a rage down my spine tingling like off the vine
In time the sun heats up out on waters edge devides
Many a demon would so often run away & hide
Angels totally surrenders out on its night scene
A brandished web of forbidden design,
For some the angel would lie in wait to deceive
In triumphant sounds of musical magestic beings light the scene
We our still here to help egnite its flame
While the entire world outside lies helplessly insane
Out on its playing field some have no game,
When our generation dies so does the other,
The angel of darkness will seek to inhabit its light
Shackled from a memory on a certain quest nor plight
Pink Slime, Pesticides
And chicken thighs bigger than my thighs
And we wonder why there is an increase
in learning disabilities among children today
I say it’s because the process, that the food is processed and grown and raised, is
compromised by demand, money, greed or fame.
I do understand that demand is high
so we have to do somethin’
So to compete, we inject hormones into the very animal or plant that is sold for consumption
So now we eat these hormones and our bodies are stressed because of the added pesticides and herbicides and other sh#! that’s hard to digest
I mean what’s really the cause?
There’s more kids with disabilities today than there ever was
I say it’s because like the story is told in the verses, that knowledge is increasing in man and the result is not what He purposed.
Pink Slime and Pesticides..We’re eating stuff that’s been chemically grown inside…and chickens bigger than my thighs
or tired love?
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!
As we gather, the sun heats sweet beats
Blazing lands ye spread far west test rest
These winds that blow changes though, will steel
The cry of banshee, they dare rust trust
They not see the light of day hither wither
Signs knew not, manifest He speak seek
Plainly in view will be done son Sun
To be undone this cloaked veil, gowns crowns
A rainstorm in the morning helps to wash away the night,
a rainbow seems to promise that this day will turn out right.
Our feathered friends all gathering in search of morning treat,
could anything go wrong today? Just look below your feet.
Wonderful for all who greet this frenzy with delight,
to watch the pretty birds catch worms, oh what a lovely sight!
For as the waters seeps below we worms rise one by one
and try to seek a ‘safer’ place dried by the morning sun.
Heavy rain is death to us, it creates a muddy sea
of sodden soil, a watery grave for those who can’t get free.
But terror hangs above our home as birds all flock around,
they know that we have got no choice, we’ll be their killing ground.
Before our heads have seen the light their beaks begin to tear,
they rip my family into shreds before they get ‘their’ air.
This feast is at our fatal cost, our numbers dwindle down,
if only we weren’t forced to rise from safety underground.
Today I was the lucky one, the one they never caught,
I’ll live to squirm another day alone with life and thought.
To live my days in solitude, to have no friends around,
and still to face the terrors of that ‘pitter patter’ sound.
So if you’re happy with your friends but feel that you are down,
unless you’re ‘forced’ to rise above the place that you have found,
it’s safer to accept your lot for sometimes you can’t see,
the place you struggle to achieve could leave you alone… like me.
Ivor G Davies.
(A Family Crisis?)
A gift of survival bag with goods and food
Thanks to the God you offered to my hand
In the competitive queue I came forward
I was registered, when the name is called
Nobody knows but somebody knows
That all are poor and world in refugees
Mixed colors and different tongues are noised
While all are paying attention to each of names
Men women indifferent and some with kids
Hope of interests is something hidden smiles
Trying to overtake before the time comes
But the frame of church flexible rule shows
With my bag and my friend I came out
He reminded me that I did not find out
Variety of food we carefully sorted out
Expiry dates elapsed and I was going out
In a day or two, if I will not finish
Nothing will happen I know its truth
I ate for the day as much as fresh
Thank to the God that it is the truth
While ships of foods are being destroyed into the sea
Uncountable lives suffer and die no meal for a day
No one knows one side of the world of sea
Sinking soul of humanity dwindles every day
What the God can do, the God does as much as
Changes the time and diverts the way he wishes
Until the products are passed away in markets
It’s out of the rule and ethics no power for Gods
I felt a self pity when my belly was full out
Thank to the god of justice shows out
Nausea for one is a hunger for the other
Balance of bridge is the survival of mother
Udaya R. Tennakoon
Estephania was the Spanish horse,
with a chestnut coat and mane
and a lighter long tail...and she ate
alfalfa for strong teeth and bones.
She was domesticated, losing her liberty
and neighing she showed keen ability:
to spot dangers on a perilous path...
Estefania even stopped for a stranded cat.
In summertime she fed mostly on grass,
but bees stung her many times to protest,
and struggling to get them off her tail...
she hit a shrilling raven in the head.
And feeling sorry for the dying bird wincing,
Estefania licked his semi-open eyes...giving
him a little comfort as he folded his wings;
and whinnying she wept a river of tears.
God of light conquer my fear from within
An eclipse of the sun has tainted my inner vision
Who are we to have believed yet achieved
Some are even caught in its pickle;
Stranded as two love birds caught in a fickle
The uniting of two hearts so far away we will pray
God of heaven take delight on my poetry
Look highly favorable amidst the summoned truth
Like a lost carriage we take our flight away
Far from the lost brevity in exchange of honesty
The silence has etched its memory in our brains
Shattered by the moment of upheaval and then,
We look humbly then often deeper then ever before
In exchange of honesty its just Studio 54?
Death Row Dinner Plates
Did you ever wonder what Ted Bundy ate
As his last meal – you no longer need wait
An artist is painting death row dinner plates
I found them today on the web
One inmate requested white meat KFC
Black walnut ice cream, pecan pie (sugar free)
Indian fry bread and milk it would be
I saw that today on the web
Another inmate, a meat lover’s delight
Ordered pound upon pound and a beer (make it light
And then he refused to take even a bite
I saw his plate there on the web
Some went for simple, an apple, some spam
A salad, some French fries, or just toast and jam
A lot of fast food, no one ordered lamb
Their plate’s pictured there on the web
John Wayne Gacy had shrimp, a dozen deep fried
A KFC bucket and French fries he cried
A whole pound of strawberries before he died
You can find it out there on the web
And as for Ted Bundy, he didn’t much care
So they gave him a steak cooked medium rare
Eggs over easy, hash-browns, toast and a pear
I found that today on the web
One point that I’m trying to make with this poem
Even on death row, you’re not eating alone
They note what you order and soon it is shown
On a plate that is sold on the web
I felt the pounding of the yam
Deep,deep down in my bones.
I know the pistil is doing me harm
When my body creaks in hushed tones.
I've seen the fire start
Watched the embers glowing
I taste the burn in my heart
As my pain continues growing
I hear the pepper grinding
And it turns my mind to mush
I see the red so blinding
Staining my soul in a rush
I cry when the onions are sliced
And when the rice husks are blown
I shouldn't have been enticed
But I was-and now I'm alone
I brought the fire,I gave the wood
I took their life and now, nothing stood
I made the knife that stabs me so
I caused the pain and it promises not to go
It was me the Earth
I am my own death
Attached by small stem
Floating on wind land
There once lived a woman called Lady-de Leisure, who turned not to men, but food for
She ate everything spicy and sticky and sweet, the poor lady could not even see her poor
feet. From dusk until dawn, all she would do was eat, drink, break wind, burp belch and poo.
But one day whilst eating her thirty fifth pie, the lady burped loudly, keeled over and died.
The funeral had to be held outside, but people they came to say goodbye.
The coffin itself, you’ve never seen bigger. The bearers were three forklift trucks and a
The hole in the ground was fourteen feet wide, and even then the coffin scraped at the sides.
So if you are thinking about being a lady of leisure, look elsewhere than food solely for
I do not know?
This here is a poem
I wrote it just because
I had a funny punchline
I don't remember what it was
It was something about Osama
That is all that I remember
Come to think, it wasn't funny
It was about the eleventh of September
Oh yes, it went something like...
May your ashes be fed upon by hemroid suffering fish who die of constipation so that
you rot for days in their smelly bowels before being filtered by a festering oyster. And
may that oyster be eaten by Michael Moore and give him food poisoning that causes
him to retch. And may that vomit be swept into the trash which is fed to a sick pig. And
may that pig die of the ebola virus and be incinerated...making you twice baked. Twice
baked potatoes bin Laden.
yes...it was something like that, only better.
Loose are the oven mitts that covered mama's hands.
Cold are her rustic pots and pans.
Stained are the pages of her favorite cookbook.
Lull hangs her ladle on its metal hook.
Hiding on the ceiling is the once dancing steam
of beef stroganoff's sour cream.
Silent is the spatula that served family guests.
Quietly the food processor rests.
Daddy can only cook up a sweat,
and I'm too young to read a recipe yet.
There's no warmth in the kitchen since mama's decease.
These objects are resting, but not in grease.
"I shall be telling this with a sigh." Robert Frost
served warm on a dish
they can only wish
surviving another day
he will have to pay
that horrible Hamilton Fish
Shades of pine grafted in again resign
Shattered pine in elm certain grove alone
My meadow had a thorn certain credit
The factual harm of its heartless swarm
Featured within in the created design with pine
Eyes sharpened as a willow in garb
The tornado sequence has even the fog alone
Again tempors fly like never before
Blatant lies have come at no surprise
In parts unknown an aura of repute to harm
Sound the alarm in fetters arm
Choirs of saints in regard to its beckoning drawn
Empire strain inside my brain fragments of cure
The surface of the sun has tainted my vision with harm
Sound the alarm agiain my faithful friend by whom we can depend
Shattered glass on the parchment floor
An impulse deep in regards to the heart
Shades of pine will line the volume of scattered pillows
A willow in derision you made a final decision
A thought provokoing reason to believe in
Shattered memory's in the moments of innocence with a plight of disbelief
We have soon turned over a brand new leaf
Timeless peaks in a swelll shattered fragments from within
A great design still sublime in its timeless parts the heart
Jim Morrison had it
Janis Joplin couldn't stop it
Jimi Hendrix sought this quick fix
An unbellievable call being caught in the mix!
I don't thank God for the nourishment on my plate.
I don't thank God for the food I just ate.
I thank instead the plants and animals who had to die
in order for me to live and survive.
I look forward to my demise actually
because no more lives then will ever end because of me.
Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp
...our lobster killers
BP's oil spill destroying
ocean, tap water
(thousands of children all over the world die every day for lack of food)
Merciless night of death,
In your darkness, thousands of
Children are devoured
To appease your, insatiable
Appetite for young souls,
But in no avail
You never stop asking
While the children, with:
Of a frightful flight
Before the stretching wings
Pray to him, their only
To end their agony
Deliver them from the
Abyss of despair
Their weak shoulders cannot,
Withhold the weight of injustice
Of human indifference!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 MAY 2013
A thorn of a rose.
Its a soul that's truly lost.
A person long forgotten.
A place of love & loss.
Something that can't be seen.
Something that can't be solved.
The most painful of all loves.
A thing that is soon lost.
Once you enter into it.
You are soon consumed.
A prisoner to the pain,
And the love that you consume.
The thorns rip and tear you.
Your heart becomes in shreds.
Love is soon the enemy,
And loss is soon the friend.
The rose is soon the symbol,
Of your dying love.
And all the thorns represent,
The pain that you succumb.
You wont seem to trust people.
You won't seem to have friends.
People will be enemies.
You wont trust your best friend.
I swim for my life
Free and following the waves
Don’t kill me with oil
We are all equal life in this planet. We might be smarter, but nature is stronger than
like leather stretched
A skeletal body
Cradled in her arms
Tiny claw like fingers
Clutching at her breast.
Fount of nothing
Fount of hunger
Little body dying
A last little breath
A last little moan
A last attempt at a suckle
The bruises still fresh
The pain in her heart
The rape of her body
The murder of her soul
A starved stomach
A dead child
Why do I suffer
When you sit in your mansion
Why did he die
Waking with a start,preparing to face the end
eating next to nothing,cracking the bottle of optimism.
Life looked away in revulsion as the villainies committed
and lost into the book of vanity.
With the naked eye i see the world every morning,revolutionized
but big words puff me up as thought i was you.
A jarring note,a shot of morphine and get out of the rut
a perjury of illusion,the only blemish on your face.
I was deceived into the belief of something invisible.
Swashbucklers,mock heroics,phony patriots and cells
that proliferate so rapidly.
Populous mash potatoes,the decomposition of the corpse,
i can't take much more.
Filth has no sense of delicacy,i never boasted that
and the inanity of convenience put a bullet through my head again
So i open the window of pessimism.
We live with the manners of a swine,
enough to keep body and soul together.
As the oil gushes freely from the hole
The ocean currents disperse it abroad
Fish, birds all sea creatures await tole
This time the tole awaits for thee and all
No just sealife, waterfoul, oysters, clams
This could mean less food on our grocer's shelf
Of course, there will be biscuits, even jam
But what about fish, oysters fried by a chef
As that oily sustance keeps spreading
All around the Gulf who's to say where will stop
It could bounce all around the globe
Might take a year or two but who even knows
That oil might slip into that slow boat to China
On the submarine in the deepest ocean
Maybe get on your bassboat moored under oak tree
As the cooing Dove calls to me how long 'twill be
When the end will come no one knows
This could be the start of those woes
Spoken of in Revelations when one-third
Of the sea creatures meet their destruction
Social injustices can affect so many
A hand to grasp to hide & hold
Set on fire to its oratory fragrance...
The streets were fought for territorial rights;
Out of negotiations with a long line of strife
The gangs outside were very mean & controlling,
Their territory was grueling etched in a barrage of discomfort....
Isn't it a pity that you hate the city;
With lines drawn in the sand some poles very shifty...
A novice may use quite a gentle approach;
An emotional conflict can result in fear, guilt & shame,
Guilt & shame need to be overcome by the grace of God,
Throughout its beckoning call toward inevitable service,
Many years of growing up in the streets;
Phat rims & image keeping fades,
Jose was a long way off on that day...
The city kids were out for a fight that night,
With clearer heads having prevailed,
Some have often found themselves lying in a sewer;
Just waiting for another episode toward that in manuever,
Jose was quick to draw his nine that day
Perhaps it was the bad blood that took him from behind ?
All alone with my silver spoon exposed to its elements;
Shadows proned to turn in the corner of my room
Fastened by the imaginations in my head
Wake up dead!
Yet in mere solace what matters most?
Like a lost seagull flying off the coast;
Try as you may the other way,
Bridges are being burned having tables now being turned;
In solemn mast of rhetoric demise
Yet a word to the wise;
From darkness to light yet never giving up on the fight;
A tug at the heart will light the spark to what it is we have been waiting for...
Since creation unfolds a story that's being sold
Vibrant eyes turned to gold
As in a variation of a dream sorted through its sifted after glow exposed!
SEA TO SHINNING SEA,
...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
...this is so intimate of dreams,
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
being so true...
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
Sea to shinning Sea.
The day the world ends we will all be in pain,
Some will be in shock, Some will stand in awe with their mouths
Open wide but no screams escaping
Others will be dead at the starting line.
Me and you will be safe in each others arms,
Staring into one anthor's eyes and
Losing ourselves and finding a place of peace before the end.
It will be a dark day
A cold day, the dew on the flowers will freeze and kill every living thing with a bitterness.
The clouds will no longer be seen as fluffy lovely things they will be the warning sign of doom.
They will roll in like death on a mission, acid rain will fall and skin will be burned.
You will be able to smell the sickening stench of that flesh from miles, towns away.
People will panic and children will be lost,
Parents thinking they are saving them from a wicked end but they drown them, hurt them in vain.
You are not saving anyone!
You are making the last things they see sick and vile.
Mommy won’t let me breathe,
Daddy is hurting me.
We will not have to worry about this my love,
We will be safe and we will cross into the finish line like champions.
We will defeat hunger and others who try to walk our path,
We will be animals with the will to survive.
Animals willing to do anything to keep our lungs full.
The day will come
When our skin shivers and our nerves ache and we will know the day has come.
Minds already set and watches synchronized.
Bags packed and ready to go.
Ready to flee up to the mountains and live in rocky hill sides far away from the end of the world.
Have a perfect view of it on fire.
Every town, every house, material things people once thought they needed.
Every person who hated us, every person who we hated
We will watch them burn.
From our snowy peak we will be safe.
Safe, such a glorious word.
A glorious word very few can say.
Drag the bag,
Across the floor,
To the freezer,
Open the door,
It’s dripping blood,
And is just dead weight,
The bag will fit,
In that empty crate,
The frozen temp,
Will give me time,
When I hear,
The front door chime,
An order for,
Strawberry ice cream,
A treat so good,
It’ll make you scream.
Open are his arms
Never will The Almighty leave you
Will given to Him triumphs against the enemy
All who cry out in Jesus’ name none can harm
Righteous in heart all must crave from start
Death is the test be it not in vain
Death within Nature's food chain
Is it an ending?
Or a start?
by Andrew Crisci
Bitter tears drip from my red pupils like incandescent, hot lava
erupting from a volcano to appease the urges of weeping;
and do I mourn for myself, or for the poor, innocent, persecuted,
misunderstood and unloved? Will this cry of injustice change anything?
Will the oppressor be softened by them or remain vile?
It's very rare that pretentiousness turns into consciousness,
revealing all the faults that make one a persona ingrata;
why is human pride such a tempting desire to own everything,
to destroy what was built with stamina leaving no footprints?
What will be said about an era which did not prosper and shine?
Who will write the testimony books, if not those inspired?
Take the written word away, and the darkness will definetely return!
Dante and Shakespeare did their part in divulging it: you do yours!
Yesterday's world was a menacing shadow oblitering all knowledge;
the masses were ignorant, but some fervently sought education
through the favor of Kings and Queens, not ignoring the urges of weeping
that came from poverty and unvoiced thoughts that couldn't be expressed;
yes, the above-mentioned Rainassance poets did succeed in their quest!
What disturbs me is the absence of fairness and equality in our times,
even murderers can be acquitted for reason of insanity..they take a life
so sacred and useful in scopes beyond comphrension and imagination;
how wratful God must be over the decision of a lenient, or corrupt judge!
And what outrages me is the heartlessness of mothers that want obortion,
or leave the new-borns in trash bins, or on sidewalks...not even
on a church's steps to be spotted by passerbys who will come to their rescue;
and sadly they will die without knowing the urges of weeping as we do.
How cruel and lawless is Man ruling the earth without the concept of humaness!
And what does He care if they live in squallor and are denied happiness?
All He desires is riches, admiration and comfort over the urges of weeping!
Entered in Michael J. Falotico's contest,
" Sounds Of A Cry "
Do not glow
Their light within
Roxy as the loudest rottweiler in Waterbury, an historic town in Connecticut,
Roxy was a vigilante dog, which never let a stranger or a burglar in;
once this ranch home was a haven, thanks for the love she had shown!
While I was watching my favorite movie, she joined in with interest;
I padded her to let her know that I approved of her curiosity,
and I spoiled her with foods that dogs shouldn't eat: like cookies and pastry!
On the sunniest days of spring and summert, we spent many hours playing, I threw the ball
and she would find it anywhere on the lawn and bring it back breathing heavily;
whoever says that dogs can't be human?....They have already proven that to us
by being our best friends! A dog can rescue a child from a burning house,
and jump into the coldest pool and bring that baby unharmed to safety;
and many of them take risks that we wouldn't take, to protect us in dangerous situations!
Canines have been our bodyguards since ancient times...Homer, the blind poet, had one, too,
but what they don't have is a spirit like ours, that spirit which returns, upon death, to God;
and will they ever go to Heaven with us? Our answer should be no, but the odds of taking
them with us, wouldn't be favorable, so we must leave them behind in their earthly dwelling!
When we'll be resurrected by Christ, we'll remember these loyal and dear companions
that shared our affections, our joy of loving, and our same fate: living and dying like we do!
Roxy was the gentlest and the most affectionate dog that ever lived, Roxy kept me from harm;
and what she gave was more than anyone could ever give! And my appreciation and gladness
were demonstrated in my caring ways: making sure she was well-fed and had plenty
of water to drink, when I would be gone for hours...and on my return, she would greet me
with a loud bark, and licking my cheeks, she jumped on me and tickled me with her paws!
Roxy was a gift from a neighbor who died alone; she entrusted her to me, and called me son!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The real truth is nobody can handle anything
We are all minature soldiers in a routine of stregnth
Some may be used to a faded regime in ardent extremities
Others ponder the ellaborate scheme amidst
Shadows torn in darkened pavement sought regime
We often will hide behind the false hidden garb of compromise
Twisted logical persuasion bursts through the sky
In our pride we tend to hide behind its mask a handicap
In pursuit of change we vaguely rearrange its ardent mast
Coupled by a porposal amidst tragic events in decay
We then surface amidst the variation of its pitch face down in some ditch
No one ever thinks rationally anymore too stuck up for their own good
In silence one can equate twisted brains in disguise of shallow pools
In retrospect to want we ignore its regard to help
Shades of green grass in illumination breath in oceanic conquest
An eager delight to shout full force inside the equated shape
We then will hide behind a loose decision made in the darkness
Through the flood of innocence we negate to tolerate its light
Instead we compromise by living by sight
Shaped our illusional grade of hope!
A man is dead.
His head fell
pasta con funghi
carbohydratly and toxicly
Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now
So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me
Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now
Now the turkeys are feeding like kings
And they flap round their high protein wings
Soon unknown to the dears
They will sit on their rears
And be roasted and stuffed, the poor things
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
I do not know?
This is the story of a beautiful horse named Glory
Freckled and spotted
She stood but a twig
Lost in a forest
Tires and barbwire
Surround her by day
And at night she suffers
The coyotes cries, not far away
Left with no food
Or water to drink
She stands by a tree
And hopes for relief
Halter grown in
And hooves overgrown
Not a grain in that belly
And left all alone
She stands by her tree
And hopes a kind soul
Will help her to see
There is life still
No matter how grim
Things seem from beneath
This horrid, old tree
This halfhearted twig
Awaits her relief
As the days pass her by
And she writhes with grief
Her name is Glory
All freckled with spots
Like a giant Dalmatian
Trapped in this spot
At the end of her lead
She was finally freed
Not a day too soon
She'll now find relief
Halfhearted no longer
And happy at last
Whom once was a twig
Knows Glory at last
Halfhearted no longer
And free from that mess
Glory has found relief
At Horse Creek Ranch*
*Horse Creek Ranch is, to the best of my knowledge, a fictional name.
Straight Black Coffee
From some hole in the wall diner
in a town of ten-thousand people
tastes a lot like soot,
or bitter ash. Coffee grinds
float weightlessly on the surface
black gnats flailing. Derelicts.
Abandoned in a blackened sea.
The silence is surreal, unnatural
Akin to those peculiar moments before a funeral
When pale bodies in black suits
sit stiff in pews, like naked trees,
and the Reaper can be felt
sliding through the aisles.
Crooked fingers wrapped around
a gleaming scythe. Bony mouth
opened wide. Howling at the sky.
The Universe holds its' breath.
"It's like a dusty tomb in here,"
I hear a big-toothed waitress say,
the lights are grey
and coated in tar.
Dead insects bake on the bottom,
One can hear them crackle and fry.
It's a somber cell
with peeling yellow wallpaper,
baby crying in the street
Reaper clicking his stiffened feet
Or a Poem,
"I Heard a Fly Buzz,"
by Emily Dickinson.
The King is in the Room, now
The King is in the Room.
My cooking skills changed my sad mood,
I learned them by watching patient mom in relentless motion
as she put much passion in her tasty food...
who could resist not giving it a try and carry on that devotion?
In the steamy kitchen, she spent a lifetime inventing great, exquisite recipes;
a self-made chief in her own right with neat apron and white cap;
one must have thought she was on the way to the Emmy's nomination festivities
to pick up her golden trophy...oh, I still laugh remembering that!
"Don't stick your finger in my batter, son...raw eggs might make
you sick!" mother ordered. " Wait until it's baked,
then you can eat as much as you like!" I froze, thinking of no trick...
oh, that spoon dripping with sweet batter I licked!
Mom no longer could prepare large meals for our hungry family,
she succumbed to grave illness, hoping I would take up that unbroken tradition...
and it made her so glad, sensing the bond of her precious legacy;
a massive list of recpes was the everlasting gift to me with profound affection.
Reminding that this will be your end
In this message I am about to send
Having knowledge and not following the path
An eternity in the pit you will spend
Ignorance now may be thy flower
Praying not for the rain to shower
In death another chance fore they do not know
Fearless fools in the darkness they cower
Being aware of the all ye many sins
Still this leaves no game plan that wins
Because thy tree bares no fruit
No matter how they try and spin
Continuing to foster false pride
As though you stand by the Creator side
He says the punishment be much worse for you
All your deeds were done to misguide
Some our very eager perplexed swept within
Underneathe the belly of the beast
A needed flower to grow amidst the rise of yeast
Within sullen fragmented dreams & truth
One may even negate that inner truth for a lie?
That inner struggle within/
To remain attached to the vine sublime
We are more then qualified for its great design
To calm the nerves from within
We look to man yet find no hold
We look toward self thus grafted in again onto the rights are sold
We then read books based on logic & get trapped within
It's inner struggle is what we all must seek to face
Within loose debris in decayed formation
Yet some its inner struggle is a way of escape?
Proned toward evident inhillation embraced with its surfaced Peyton Place;
The inner struggle from within
Fought back the heavy tears with a smile
Still to know all the great while
A hand to hold a loving kiss embraced
For this is the thought provoking struggle we enivatably all must face?
The inner struggle.
I can be your sister and your brother
Your husband and your mother
I’ll bake and clean and treat you mean
Be your quarter back on our own private team
I’ll prepare your meals and iron your clothes
Leave your supper on the table as I walk out of the door
Let you wonder if I really am at the store?
I can be your superhero and save your life
I can be your number one fan, your right hand man
Your enemy sinister and wise
You are my teacher when I cross the line
And I’m your master when you say your mine
Sell my body and soul to keep food on your plate
Let you believe no one has ever touched me like that
I’ll be your secretary when your too weak to speak
You can use and abuse me and make me feel cheap
I can be your very best childhood friend
Your nurse by your side at the very end
I’ll keep you sane as you lose your teeth and mind
Tell you the world hasn’t really changed outside
Place flowers in your hair as your body starts to fail
Cut your food into pieces when your hands become frail
Smile and tell you that all is well
When inside I’m dying and feeling like hell
Tragedy is a spinning wheel
which stops at its own will,
and when it does an earthquake, flood or tsunami strikes
poisoning the pristine environment, wiping out endless lives....
such was the fate of unlucky Japan,
the island off the Asian mainland.
When destruction was everywhere and fear was deep,
people miserably wept searching for survivors through the debris and mud...
feeble voices were occasionally heard from underneath;
how helpless, and frustrated and sad they felt not to be able to pull them out!
Fakushima resembled a graveyard with sprawled corpses,
unfolding the horror of a massive catastrophe before their saddened eyes.
Let's show our heartfelt sympathy
with a kindness which surpasses all credibility,
remembering that tragedy is a spinning wheel
never telling where it will stop to make a kill...
and as Japan asks for our help, we should gladly offer it
with open hearts and arms and they will thank us for it.
The young dream their dreams away at night
Hoping they come true
A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young
Too naive to understand the ways of the world
Determined as ever to achieve their dreams
The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish
They had dreams but unknowingly never came true
You go from living a world full of dreams
To living the reality that is life
Why do we let our dreams die
We were so excited as young kids
At the foot step of our dreams
Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb
To make our dreams come true
Did we simply quit
Because of society’s pressure
Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night
Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts
Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it
Why do dreams die so quickly
When we spent years of our youth
Hoping that we could get an opportunity
To make them come true
Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die
Blossoms like orchids, waxy white
Waiting for pollen's lore
Producing those bean pods purple
Chocolate treats galore
Green, yellow, red, purple grooved pods
Ebony dark the seeds
Bitter the natural flavor
Desire has acquired a need
Planted 'neath fine cacao tree
In death feast 'pon dark seeds
Bitter the pulp very toxic
Theobromine just feed
I know that I am
Not a Turkey
I have said this
Hope to make it
And not just end up
At the foot of some-ones'
I know that there is truth
And of this...
I wil not be forsaken
But, above all else
I hope not to be mistaken
Something real Turkey might say....
There is a little Turkey in all of us.....
Shades Of Grey
A peril of sort left my job moved up North
In islands in the stream some apparent evil scheme
Shades of grey by its means something don't actually turn out to what they mean
Shades of grey silver smile walk the old river Nile
A plate of fries evil pass getting to know the midnight pass
Shades of grey all torn up inside we will hide
Souts of joy then applause some may insist on it being a lost cause
Sadly we put up with the chill running down the spine evil swine
In deepened peril outside twilight Christmas Carol
Shades of grey how they swoon to its nightly visible tune.
We have issues
Were not seeing eye to eye
Were doing more arguing
Id rather be kissing you right now
I think were both a lil dramatic
Which is why normal talks end up in arguements
I also know I care a lot
Because normally I wouldn't react like this
You want me to talk but I'm not used to
Talking so Ill write it here instead
I don't like going to bed mad at you
I want us to get back to the passion
All of these issues are clouding are judgement
I remember when we would fight
And than you'd come over and make up
That very same night.
You'd kiss me and it would all go away
What ever happened to that?
Why are we stressed out right now?
Maybe we do need space
Maybe we see each other too much
But I'm tired of arguing
I wanna get back to all the fun.
We have to fix these issues.
Hunger Artist - A Kafkaesque Moment
By: Earl Schumacker
(influenced by “A Hunger Artist”- short story by: Franz Kafka)
Food is foreign and mysterious to me now
Tolerance for such things is vile
My art once held the masses
In a mesmerizing enchanted grip
These days nothing matters
Death by hunger is dismissed
No one comes by my cage
To keep me faithful to my pain, as it really is
Starvation has lost its style
Or flavor should I say
Such enlightenment and with it fame
Once came quick
The children gathered by the thousands
To prove that nothing happened
Watching frantically; morning noon and night
To see no food had passed the artists lips
And death would take them nicely without tricks
I can’t remember ever being free
My cage and I came together mysteriously
We seem to be the same thing
Starving came instinctively
As last hunger artist I can’t resign
I have to see enlightenment one time
With or without people to observe
Even if I should die before my time alone
I just don't get it experts say diabetes in kids don't respond to meds or insulin.They admits diabetes is preventable and curable by eating better. Explaining that sugary drinks like sodas should be remove from schools to help our kids. So what do they say will solve the problem? Tax on the sugary culprit that's making these kids sick.
I simply can't see the logic in charging a food tax on soft drinks and foods causing this disease. If there's snakes on the plane that's killing the passengers you don't charge a tax to end the suffering. You remove the snakes.
Experts found that diabetes is a diet, nutritious, lifestyle disease. We simply need to eat right. Our young diabetics is having strokes at án early age. They are having fatal heart attacks by age 20.
The thing to do is turn the (weapons) non nutritious foods into (plow shears) food that make well, instead of charging a tax on foods that kill overtime while healthy foods that's more costly gets passed over, out of reach for those unable to pay more.
If those most effected can't afford the cost of a healthy diet how are they to afford the cost of a unhealthy diet. They will be forced to continue eating unhealthy just paying more to do so. I simply don't see the logic.
I just don't get it, but I do get it.
Money is the root strengthing the thinking behind this logic to charge a tax on foods that kills rather than cease the manufacturing of this poisons for monetary gains.
We see this same logic in cigarette taxes. Instead of eliminating the nicotine that's causing the cancers, they charge smokers a tax to smoke their cancer sticks. Smokers continue to smoke eventhough cigarettes are costly. I admit anti smoking campaigns and advertisings has worked decreasing the percentage of cigarette smokers from the glory days of "its cool to be a smoker" back in the 1940's and 60's to the smokers of today. Still today new smokers jump on the smoke wagon at an early age.
So problem solved? I don't see the logic, but I do.
The living is lovely,
Gnoochi with Nonny,
For every step,
Chef caps adorn our crowns,
It’s a lovely afternoon,
Rich in tradition is our recipe,
Love is how it is conjured,
How I miss our days,
Of gnoochi and storytelling,
Memories are all that's left.
Tribute To Halloween
Also Entry For
Donna Golden's Footle Fright
Two men alone with their wounds,
following footpaths in the tall grass
so as not to be seen
Stealing pumpkins from farmed fields
chewing on grass stems to ease hunger
Listening to the sound of frogs
And followed to water.
On guard, always, at the pools
That is where they gathered
Learned how to submerge the body
With just a nose showing above water.
Hungry, thirsty, but mostly cold.
No clothes, forty-degrees F, staying close,
To conserve body heat
While Hyena's and Leopards lurked.
Finding other refugees along the way
Comforted in the fact of comraderie
yet it was harder to move unseen with more bodies
and food became scarce like water.
The Kangen riverbed was barren
hot, hot sun
one adult amongst boys
The Lost Boys of the Sudan.
Finding muddy pools of water, they ate the mud
Just for the moisture, easing the pain
Tongues swollen, skin grey
Utilizing everything, they drank their own urine.
Singing Christian songs
Asking God for water
he gave them vulture-ridden bodies along-side a swamp.
A swamp! drank and drank
found tortoises and roasted them with grasshoppers
First protein eaten in so long,
sat in those marshes and tried to regain strength.
Crossed the Gilo, eyeballing the crocs eyeballing them
Dodging bullets from Ethiopian rebels
Six months of starvation to reach Kenya.
There are camps along and throughout
And in each one, Death reigns
as the new and forever King of the Motherland.
Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly.
Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains.
Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue.
His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.
I do not know?
Sitting here, in a room with no light
And the sound seems louder
Than it normally should be
As I play
With my excessively growing goatee
It seems like a habit
Having my mornings this way
Yet for fun there is a price
Everyone must pay
Only one question dwells
In the mind of thy own
The answer still remains
To be unknown
Somewhere in the distance
Unreachable by any means
Sits a tall beaming
United States Marine
Nine months naked in the darkness eating drugs of malnutrition
How ironic in a cage today he shares the same condition
All the eyes that he has closed are nightmares of heaven's eviction
Damp with blood not of his own was proof that led to his conviction
Nine months naked in the harlots womb who had a drug addiction
Twelve plus twelve years later he is asked forgiveness for redemption
Years before the food was scarce his stomach starved into submission
Now rejecting food before his fate account of superstition
Time to him is upside down with fear a fact of no tomorrow
Mandrake plants become a path for him to journey to the gallows
Once is enough
Twice is too much
I want to take it with me
But there are rules
Of engagement – time limits – restraints – red tape - you know
You just can’t hide
They tried to kill my God once
It must have hurt.
He took it hard
We did too
3 days later He came around
It was easy
Like walking on water
I still don’t want to go
No one gets out alive they say
My toys will miss me
And who will pay the taxes?
If you cry will it make it better?.....make it go away?
So many questions….such little time
I only want lunch
Once is enough
Twice is too much
Merrily cherries were chatting with berries on bunches of bushes below;
the cherries were scaring the berries with stories that every new berry should know:
"Beautiful cherries are succulent very so we became fruit of the sky,
but pitiful berries on earth where you tarry cannot please the tongue nor the eye.
Innocent berries I pray you be wary for mortal consumption is nigh,
and it must be scary to die along dairy in coffins that they call a pie!"
Hominal creatures with ravenous features were coming to pick their dessert.
But which one will sweeten the pie to be eaten the fruit of the sky or the earth?
"It will be scary when they pluck 'n bury your souls in their pies to digest;
I hear such a pastry is terribly tasty when given a berrily zest!"
Mary saw favor in that which had flavor so she found the cherries the best;
the cherries were shaken their rubies were taken to bake in a fiery chest.
Scarily berries were mourning the cherries who fell to a sugary greed;
although all the berries were no longer wary for cherries are tasty indeed!
I do not know?
The monster crept Into my house, quite late on Friday night
I wrestled and I struggled and I put up quite a fight
The onslaught was ferocious, when I thought I had him beat
He came back with such power that, he knocked me off my feet
We rolled around the floor for what appeared to be an age
Then looking in the monsters eyes, I saw his inner rage
I knew that he would never stop, but fight until the death
He smiled his sickly smile and hit me with his cocoa breath
His ferocity relentless, my body soon turned numb
Resistance now was futile, and I knew I’d soon succumb
The battle lost, I opened up a bar of chocolate bliss
The chocolate monster blessed me with a chocolaty kiss
So if you get a visit from a creature such as him
He isn’t such a monster don’t resist him, just give in.
© John W Fenn 28-05-2009
You picked this day to die
My hair's a mess
I'm really tired
Stopped at the super market
Needed some eggs to make a pie
You didn't say what time
I guess I really didn't know
Should I wait around awhile
Or were You ever gonna show
These eggs, they have expired
Guess that's just the way it goes
Things do require
Things do expire
If someone noticed I suppose
Desires, Drive, Deeds
He, Him, Heed
Child's, Chosen, Choice
Regret, Repent, Rejoice
Attune, Always, Around
Savior, Sailing, Sea
Left, Land, Lost
Pitifully, Punks, Playing
Dying, Dead, Death
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Out of the heart
Springs the many issues of life amidst
Throughout a distant embracing strife
Out of the heart a modest choice to make
In ardent springs embraced upon temporal negate
Comes about a correlation within its peace
Strong is it may seem
Out of the heart some may disagree/
Out of the heart...
One may equate logical persuasion out of a mist filled with reality;
The tender soil still quickens lending it to art as in some specific touch
Through a variation in a dream falling apart at the seams
Some are even very eager to engage in its deepest sympathy?
One may negate truth thus in order to twist its factual to live the lie?
Still others equate logical persuasion amidst;
Out of the heart form the issues of the heart/
Through darkened shades of Pine some may even spring a leak?
We still know what tomorrow might bring?
Amidst temporal chords of fallem mankind
We stand amazed at the glue of false fabrication
Twisted thoughts filled with thunder amidst its period of priority
Justification by faith yet they negate logic for a side order of fear
Twisted minds that plug destruction blaming third degree of fire on their very souls
Neglect to pick up the cross & to follow then soaring into sorrow
Never any hopes for a brighter nor that a better tomorrow;
Out of the heart the mouth will speak amidst the madness deepened creek/
Throughout darkened shades of Pine soiled in the breeze with illogical persuasion
We all still know not what tomorrow may bring?
Amidst temporal chords of fallen mankind
Under the surface of the bone filled there is still a layer of skin
Whence, do I need to ever begin again
Fallen man amidst a rise of the angry pagan
Flashlights with a dull pitch formidable response in its equated logical filled lies
Does all of the lie come at any logical big enough surprise?
I will peal the flesh from your face
Chew upon the muscle beneath skin
Your final resting place
This ritual is mine
Eating flesh so divine
Surviving off flesh
The butchery continues
for the flesh of man
Meat so tender
and meat so tough
I ingest it all
of things still writhing
Human flesh furthering my life
I will live forever
I consume all meat
Muscle and skin
The most tasteful parts
Sustanence through cannibalism
Flesh is the provider
I will live forever
There was a great chef who was born in Piacenza, Italy.
This man eventually became known as Chef Boyardee.
Boyardee made great food while he was alive.
But sadly this great man passed away in 1985.
He used to give people food to take home in his restaurant.
His food is still being sold today and it's what people want.
He supervised the catering for the reception of President Wilson's second wedding.
When he died twenty-six years ago, it was what millions of people were dreading.
I ate his food when I was a boy.
His food brings people a lot of joy.
I used to buy his lasagna kit on my mom's birthdays.
The world lost a great italian chef when he passed away.
(DEDICATED TO ETTORE "HECTOR" BOIARDI WHO DIED JUNE 21, 1985.)
Lying here, I am eaten
The beast takes its last bite
On a cold and dreary evening
I begin to recount my life
Sliding past his teeth, I weep
Remembering all my strife
Trying to climb, with arms so weak
My pains increase and subside
Slipping past his tongue, I'm hung
Reaching one last time
My eyes close tight, when terrors sung
With a beastly sort of pride
Falling down his throat, I'm choked
My breath taken from inside
While hearing every ghastly note
The beast sings and cries
Past his lungs, all hope is gone
So hard I thought i tried
Into it's gut I'm finally done
Inside the beast I died
I do not know?
"A Terrorist Act On Friday the 13th"
(a true story! and no one to tell!)
2 pm Friday the 13th
a red demon was parked at
the "Castle of State Farm" by a bus stop
the bald headed red demon, was stalking a unsuspecting
41yr old unprotected woman...
with one deep breath the red demon
let out his toxic breath ...
and blood came for the back of my throat
along with lung tissue that foamed into clear bubbles
draining out of my mouth and nose
try to bring air, back into my lungs
only brought tears and pain
vomit but with out food just lung matter
not a doctor so i don't understand why my food didn't come up
just breathing only broth from my lungs
i coughed all night long, with my throat burning
i thought this was the end...
i will die...
a poet who no one pays any attention to will be
RED-RUM for poems no one even reads~
but will the true story be told someday...
who is pulling my strings...
to hide there true face...
"Because When You Have No Life, Your Just A Survivor..."
Like to get rabies.
That's the way babies rock.
Like nice highlighters.
That's the way Writers rock.
Collective and permanent-
In these steps to eliminate, I advance.
Concern soley for the initial incision-the swell beneath lefthand placement and pressure.
Natural movements restricted, the right conducts it's glide across taught purpose.
Our eyes widen to mirror the separation of her skin.
Warm nourishment begins to flood, I settle beside and case over the lips,
preventing the taste from draining down my chin.
A plentiful volume of ejecta sets the air.
Collective and permanent- our labors deliver each other entirely from inherent hunger; mine defined by her final cry, dangles above human teeth, instincts screaming against ignorant memory-against these plastic hands which I've soaked heavily.
The creature of all my passion, each and every constant, bears your name as well.
At this, a plentiful volume of ejecta had set the air. A powerful aroma to compliment my dinner.
Cut I have the noose
Setting all free now you choose
The spice of death, life
Unseen hungry ghost
Predator in human skin
Lurks among the herd
Some folks drool for lamb
Others beef, but I prefer
The *other* red meat
Arcing silver edge
Slices a dark horizon
Full moon or my knife?
God's hand carves the earth
Canyon river running red
Metaphor in flesh.
Blood on my good shirt:
I just had this damn thing cleaned!
People are so rude.
Sleek steel crimson-graced
Open window into you
Fresh-plucked beating heart
Just like a ripe tomato
Crush it in my jaws
Warming up the grill:
Home-made chuck on seeded buns.
Long pork for dinner!
Gleaming white arches
Spin around the spinal cord
Horseshoe, played with bones.
White mouse with cheese runs
Siamese cat one-half paw
Behind, what faces
Such a pretty thing
So shiny green
I'd opened a bag of mixed vegetables
Careless with the knife
It rolled away
All by itself
Along the outer edge of the counter
Fell without sound on the floor
Just a pea I thought
So I finished making my salad
Yes many many peas
Except the one forgotten
On the floor
I thought to look
Put aside the dish
I barely felt it
Barely felt that little pea
Under my foot
That poor little pea
Separated from friends
Smashed to pulp on my dirty kitchen floor
What an ignoble end
once there was an old man on a lane
he always had many cats
then he took a train
and went down another lane
Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage
The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered
Swimming around the ocean deep
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper
At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty
In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat
A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high
Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through
Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret
No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy
Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin
Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife
(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg. Then circled and
grabbed her left leg. The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off. She was only attended by a nurse who
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do. She was 20 hours away
from the nearest doctor. She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg. The story about the shark caught in
a fisherman's net was really not true. The grandmother here was a true story.)
C.J. IS MORE THAN OKAY
I AM TOO OLD FOR THE HUNT
My mortal motives are magnanimously moral
My objects are not objectionable nor in any way obscene
And my only purpose is to preserve the pristine
For I see your smile as genuine and pleasant
Unfortunately I have no funds for buds nor a present
All I have is the want to share some time with you
With no illicit solicitations and that much is true
Each time I contact you in any way
You create a cerulean blue sky from grievous gray
It matters not to me what it is you choose to do
BUT I would enjoy to contentedly have a conversation with you
I’ve played you music I believed would reach your heart
While innocence has always played its pertinent part
You’ve sometimes totally ignored me and that’s all right with me
Because akin to a swiftly swimming swan you deserve to be free
So if the thought occurs to you that I want more than just a phriend
Remember always and in all ways these words that I penned
You mentioned sharing lunch and it took me aback
Because it’s freedom and friendship I wish not to lack
Well as I mentioned before I’ve no money for flowers nor for fleece
But I do have the inclination to share with you some peace
Fondly in finesse, flora, fauna and finery…. © 2011.….Phreepoetree!
Sons and daughters are rising
against their parents,
they use obscenity
and physical force;
honor is no longer
present in their unsound thoughts...
isn't the end coming soon?
Rivers and oceans flood towns and cities,
crops and lives are being lost,
mothers grieve for their children;
firefighters and soldiers
try to save them with their shivering pets...
isn't the end coming soon?
The climate is continuously changing,
it's getting warmer and ice is melting
in both North and South Poles;
grizzly bears, deers and wolves
search for food in garbage pails...
is the end coming soon?
Drug addicts and homeless people
are dying on dark, filthy streets
infested by rodents as big as cats;
punks carry guns and shoot in hallways,
and yet hookers continue their business...
isn't the end coming soon?
Grandpas and grandmas read the Bible daily,
their grandchildren worship the Devil who promises
them riches with schemes...even justice and punishment are failing;
who controls the Courtroom: the judge, the crook or the green?
Is the jury as fair and righteous as it appears?
Isn't the end coming soon?
Preachers praise God from the pulpit
when their souls are not pure as He is...
are they deceiving themselves and their flocks?
They interpret the Bible as they deem,
being inherent and contradicting...
isn't the end coming soon?
When The-Same-Sex-Marriage Law was passed,
crowds of gays and lesbians cheered on:
a return to Sodom and Gomorrah?
Soon perversion will be everywhere,
and more incurable diseases will start new plagues...
isn't the end coming soon?
A soft whistled howl and a mournful cry of pain
Small fox lies dying with a crimson stained fur coat
Its children left to suffer and yet so weak and frail
A content wolf watches its prey from a distance
Claws digging deep within the cold battered land
Tail silently swaying to and fro as desire increases
From the shadows of the shrub a silhouette emerges
A heart shattering cry of pain echoes amid the area
Its small heart seizes to beat within her small chest
A BUTTERFLY SHOULD NEVER DIE
I am without anything now that I’m not with you
And Lord knows I miss the taste of your smile
I miss a perfectly designed dream come true
Because you made mounting a mountain seem a mild mile
You gave me butterflies and lightning bugs as a gracious gift
Because of you the morning wasn’t agony anymore
It didn’t matter if I worked in the day or the midnight shift
When I returned you would be there with a smile at our door
Ain’t nobody’s business how deeply we loved one another
But they could tell in our eyes and the way we held hands
Ain’t nobody’s business how I loved you, not even my brother
While I kissed you under the elm tree in the peaceful place it now stands
When you used to approach me it would make my heart race
Now that I’m without you I want to know exactly why
And it’s difficult when I need to forget your emphatic embrace
So now you know from whence comes my woeful wish to die
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Gnawing, bulging, craving
Hungry, Voraciousness, greediness, pig
Stuffing, gorging, Devouring
How does one begin to have recognized
First it requires that one admits to one’s self
Do I live my life in search of perfect health?
Then the dark side has ye hypnotized
You see the darkness is quite clever
Once you wallow in its fear of loss
Are you starting to understand you pay the cost?
Controlling your destiny forever
Caring not for another human being condition
Driving in you a false perception of need
Increasing in you one’s emotional greed
See now thee that it has a dark mission?
spider eater, gotta special bond
spider-eating, one by one
feel them squish on the tongue
love the taste of the numbing venom
cockroach eater, one under thumb
roach-eating, oh what utter fun
crawling around inside your mouth
belly laughs, they'll never get back out
sundae mourning de-lite
subtle shift of a creaking door to the tune of
the screaming of a thousand ill-starred spirits
shrieks of the rat, caught by the rear
all those bones and fur won't go down so easy
taciturns of blue veins percolating
blue blood spilling in the heart
a cold winter, it's where the dark sets in
but no one can see with all those ribs and skin
lover eater, gotta special flavor
flesh-eating, drip of macabre
all this thick red muscle
the cold wet meat could use some salt
drop me a line
your finest red wine, ship me a case
i envy your palette
and fashion sense, impeccable taste
you're nothing like the ones back home
(there are not enough poems about cannibals... :D oh and before you tell me to
seek help... oh wait, i don't care. f--- you... it's called "art.")
Oh, how it is so much fun
All having been given a choice
You can hear it in their voice
As we all dance and play in the sun
The there are many who shall turn and run
Living a continuous life of evil
End the end it will only bring upheaval
In truth their virtue, they have none
You were like a bird perched high up in the tree, which did stare down upon the
very worms on the ground. With your eye piercing through the ground you did see
me try to slither back to the safety of the soil, but you did pluck me from the
ground and with one swift swallow you did devour me whole. I did try to hide from
your piercing stare as you measured my slithering body and pluck me from the
ground and swallowed me up like a sink hole that came upon a rainy day and
eroded the earth from beneath and unseen…Mother earth save me from her
beak and return me safely to your soil rich grounds? There I will labor until they
beseech you with their cries for your tears and raise me once again to the very
top, where once again I shall be at the mercy of their beaks and sharp talons as
they dig me from the ground once more. And feed me to her little ones…Truly this
is in the masters plan? The weak for the hungry and the least love shall be feed
to the many that call upon Mother Nature’s tears to raise the weakest from the
ground to feed the many that beckon and she does hear their call. This time I
surrender my slithery soul in the name of what is right I shall fight no more!
The spice in the curry mirrors my anger.
Angry of being a part of a race with no peace.
The small bits of red pepper scatter
Like the blood of the innocent.
An explosion of heat burns my tongue
Like the bombs do their victims.
Who will never speak of peace
Nor taste a meal again.
Spartans trained their children for war,
They practiced all day until they were worn,
Their typical meal was black broth and pork,
It gave them energy for the dangerous war.
Spartan girls were trained for sports,
The ephors, made laws that were enforced,
Spartan women were freer than others,
And were trained to be loyal mothers.
Spartans controlled the Helots for 250 years,
Of course the Spartans had nothing to fear,
Throughout the war many people died,
This is how the Spartans lived their lives.
They aren't chimpanzees!!!
They descend from mountains
when their stomachs growl,
and they tumble with their excessive weight...
getting dirt, stones and twigs caught in their fur.
Two of them just crashed, making the loudest thud,
sending animals and humans scrambling!
Someone screams, " They aren't chimpanzees!!! "
" Run, son! " a frightened mother shouts.
" Mom, grab my hand...I'm scared! " the kid yells.
They aren't chimpanzees!!!
They live in the wilderness feeding on deer and wildcats;
they are extremely savage, roaming the dense hills
and open plains, and with one stroke of their powerful paws,
they can instantly kill defenseless creatures or people.
They travel far to get their food, and their senses
are as keen as tigers and lions hunting their prey.
If you hear groans or strange noises: look out!
They hide behind bushes and trees and they could be
in your own backyard! These beasts are...
Entered in Gareth James's contest, " Leave Me Hanging "
I do not know?
The apple of your eye
Is acidic in nature
Burning holes in defenseless victims
Whole holes that hopefully hunt
And the sweet sucking worm
Trapped inside of your favorite fruit
Eats away at their hearts
And the flesh becomes brown
For the lingering life has lingered too long
And the ripeness has reversed into ruin
Theme park legacies unnoticed
billion dollar scandals no one talks about
the under rug swept truth of the army taking over your government
telling what president to say what to what city
nothing out of the ordinary
the wars of our fathers, that carry on and on, with no break in between
just generation gaps, the three legs of one war, to fool the gullible
terrorism utilised to make impact statements of common knowledge
leaving you in your rut
in your corner
the pornographic clippings of muscle men
steroids and drug abuse used for a miscarriage
the usual carnival
the chemicals of the previous wars soaked into their soil
now nothing there grows
wicked this way comes
better this time
a law suit
hands washed clean, you look the other way when it happens to me
the gang unit doesn't even know
politically correct they are
selling the cover up
for the side effects of the wars of our fathers
the soils that soon will no longer bear fruit
something in the water, we tell ourselves is sewage
the pieces fit and we blame our mothers and fathers
after the doctors, after the brothers, and our lovers
where it all started, looking back to the deserted wastelands
of your chemical warefare
i see your footsteps
where the children starve
blaming monkeys for disease
we thought we would never be
something wicked this way comes
you look the other way
but here it is
the pieces fit
the usual game
the cover up in your face
under rug swept
yet a torture
you dont see, blinding me
The prince of the power of the air along with his children
Love is dead until we fancy another route of passing?
Chasing after the wind in twilight excursion of light,
Love is dead ever since the 1960's burning bras
Feministic women amazons invading our every portal of death
Viscious long hanging fangs that bite hanging down dripping blood off side
We often run away to hide in fashionable sway,
We can't even hold the door for our neighbor anymore?
Blackened hearts chosing death's door cement,
Broadened venues of pornography & red light districts
A slurrpy & pop rocks,
Love is dead we have inherited lust from the children of the damned!
In sharp contrast toward what Warhol's intent of past exposure
Move over rover and let the fakes take over
Pagans branded with dire evil teeth losing sleep
Gone our the days of Little House & the prairie
Not to mention Little Bo Peep!
Perhaps its that time we take a leak?
Inner circles broadened cliches in imaginative scope
Can even cope when you have an old spice soap on the rope
In certain circles vain cliches again best to hold my breath to count to the number ten?
Love is dead but God is still alive
Love is Hollywood philisophical fake promotion
Phat Kats with blue hats sipping on some magic potion
Rubbing their fake boobies down with Tropicana lotion
Love is dead what is going on in the societal mindset head?
We have erected fabricated idols out of vanity
Vanity of Vanity all is vanity!
We squeeze money out of the imaginary machine turning green
Just to watch that Obama dream?
If you ask me were still living in the evil land of mean!
Sometimes I wonder what things I’ll do in life
Will I have a wife, a soul mate, a life-long friend, a companion till the end?
Will I be left on my own, by myself to fend?
Send me to a place where your looks don’t matter
To a place where you can be skinnier or fatter
To a place where your confidence and self esteem wont shatter
A place where you won’t be judged if you eat a full platter
I wish my emotions were an optional choice
To be able to drop them, escape the insulting voice
I wish I was a toddler, back when all that mattered was toys
Where it didn’t make a difference if you liked girls or boys
People’s words are like an army, waiting to be deployed
And when they deport, your feelings are destroyed
You’re on your own left thinking if there is anyone on your side
But you don’t go and search, you feel the need to hide
They have created a monster, it’s now living inside
It's tearing down your courage, and eating your pride
You find yourself asking if your parents have lied.
Telling you all these years, you're perfect in every way shape and size
Even now when you hear that, a part of you dies
Because it’s not what you believe, according to statistics
You've been judged throughout life, on your appearance and characteristics
Facing the world’s most blunt and cold hearted critics
It’s inevitable to judge, but don't be so quick to attack
You don't know that person, and that’s just a fact.
The one you made fun of, lost everything, house burned down, he didn’t have time to pack
His father had left when he was young; his mother was addicted to crack
What we all take for granted, is what this boy lacked.
All I’m asking, is to think before you speak
Even though you don't know it, it’s making the person weak
Just focus on yourself, seek what you want from life
Don't be the person who's the reason, on their wrist, lays a knife.
Whatever you do
Do not climb the last tree on earth
Because if you do
It will not let you down
And you will starve up there
I do not know?
On this mountain the Lord of hosts
Will provide for all peoples
A feast of rich food and choice of wines…
He will destroy death forever
Lord God will wipe away
Tears from all faces Isaih 25:6, 8
THIS ISAIAH PASSAGE
One of the greatest sources of Courage for me in all of Scripture
The repeated detailed description of the feast
In case gives me a kind of glorious concrete hope
I love the tenderness of the Lord God
Wiping away the tears from all the faces
Three years ago on this date-10092008
I held this reading in my hand beside my dying sister
She was the one who gave feasts in our family:
Rich juicy food and choice wine
I read aloud for us both
“He will destroy death forever”
God of Love
Help us to trust in this stunning promise of life You offer us with such tenderness
The striking actress
Vivien Leigh played the role
of Scarlett in, "Gone With The Wind".
The Southern belle fell in love with Rhett,
who had a set of charming blue eyes that captured
her heart burning with passion and love: like her red dress!
In the heart-wrenching scene on a barren hill,
over-looking the luxurious mansion, we see furious Scarlett
vowing herself to never go angry again and not to live in poverty;
and we hear her loud voice thundering amid cannons' blasts, as she
pleads her promise with vengeance staring at the orange-colored sunset!
And from that war, which brought much destruction to the South, a great nation rose!
the wolves are come. for me.
they are. they come. for me.
i am a tasty treat.
the wolves, they come for me.
they shall swallow me whole.
they'll eat my body and soul.
i am a sweet morsel.
into their mouths i will go.
the wolves are. at my door.
my heart shall beat no more.
i'm a sitting duck.
the blood. the wolves. it pours.
I would tell him,
but he hunkered
down in his bunker,
with one-thousand-caliber cans of beer.
He rationed himself,
to every Bud.
poured from their head-wound
deafening - distinctive - gurgles.
I dine at a wide clay table -
face the gold-red wall.
I serve myself a setting yolk -
season it with salt.
I eat my meal, and quickly-
forbid the air its warmth.
I stuff myself with sunset;
starved in bed, I bawl
as dusk, so kind, wraps leftovers
for tomorrow evening’s gall
He (like the day) has set;
sunsets taste – different –
At OCHSA, in poetry class today
a dead body lay on the floor
and hungry starved commercial dancers
came in to feast.
Crunching on the toe nail chips
drinking in the eyeballs
feasting on the spaghetti and meatball hair
slipping on the soup of tongue.
Ripping at the flesh
like carnivorous dinosaurs of old
feasting on fallen herbivores
nummy, slurp, gulp.
I walked in on the middle of this fray
only bones were left,
aww, poor people
We really shouldn't feed the lions
but maybe commercial dancers are the exception!
a/n: this was written for a Halloween contest at OCHSA but they told us no zombies and ect
so this is what happened! Yes commercial dancers can be scary when they are hungry enough!
I do not know?
She is yellow tonight, grinning
as she reflects the day. Her breath
Splashes against me, needles of silver
Inject my skin. Casting shadows and trapping thought,
in punctured sails.
Petals dissolve; gather as pulp at the base
Of my heart. Burgundy lines solid flesh.
Empty beats crackle and echo through
my hollow bones. Chalk that spends itself
in continual lines.
Thought, in tatters hanging from my brain,
Is dry. Scorched by the flickering tongue
Of the sun. Flames that fed on the fertile
Fabric, spun from raw emotion.
Devoured the spark,
This sudden surge of old death
This expiration of forest trees
And my lung choking for breath
This sickness of an old disease
This tropical rain forest gasping
With the world for life, and chains
Of food stores lit up and basking
In cheap food fattening, the stains
Of beckoning jingles but few ignore
For they do not know how many
Die to bring obesity to a greasy store
And you think the real calamity
Is the forest, you should me here
Prowling at the shrivelling edges
Of my domain shrinking up with fear
I growl, short from high rock ledges
Where is a cat to go without a jungle?
So now you they are only after me
Trying to make extinct not invisible
Will cheap fat dribble on your gluttony.
Where are the Yanamoahs gone
There are no foot tracks where the eagles spawn.
I do not know?
(This is a fictional poem)
I made a mistake when I opened this cafe.
The food makes people sick and then they don't pay.
I happen to be the world's worse cook.
Today I had an accident while slicing some food and now I wear a hook.
My cooking is so bad that it actually killed a man and now his family is going to
My prices are cheap but the food makes people vomit and it tastes worse than an
The customers don't like me or this dump.
They're getting tired of having to have their stomachs pumped.
You'd better listen to the advice that I'm going to give you.
Don't eat here, it's untelling what it will do.
I couldn’t wait to eat lunch with you tomorrow
But now my heart is filled with sorrow
The world has violently taken you away
I watched as you crashed to the stairwell floor
As your innards were sprawled all over the tile
The red stain will remind me of this cursed night
The night your life was ended
I just wish our time together wasn’t so brief
It is filling me with grief,
As I think of the memories we will never be able to share
I can barely take the thought of you not being there,
When I awake in the morning
So I will stand here in mourning
I will grieve over this world’s loss of ageless beauty
I will grieve over my loss of the one I dreamt of tasting in sweet bliss
I will grieve over you, the one I am sorely missing
I just wish I knew “why?”
Why cruel world?! Why?!
What did my sandwich ever do to deserve to die?
Looking for a beacon of
From a simple stranger
Walking down a street in
A strange country
Never been there before
Poverty-stricken seem know
Walking around on the street
Where to turn, mind is lost
Maybe a little hope
Coming from the strangers
Walking on this strange street
Never been there before
But faces shown age of depression
Lines of time
Shown worn and weary, know
One faint tear
Pains of hunger
With sullen bellies
Is their know end in sight in
Strange man land..
Looking for a beacon of hope
Maybe a little light..
Cry pig because you’re about to be slaughtered
Cry pig because people will begin to eat you shortly
Cry pig because you will be in a frying pan soon
Cry pig because you will be served in restaurants tomorrow
Cry pig because you will no longer be with your family
Cry pig because your children will be next
Cry pig because you will suffer through pain to achieve our hunger
Cry pig because you will never die of natural causes
Cry pig because you will no longer have feelings
Cry pig because you will no longer have emotions
Cry pig because your life is over
Cry pig because ours have just begun
Written November 23, 2008
I do not know?
In the darkness
His eyes glow
Awaiting his next victim
The one to trespass on his domain
Creeping in complete silence
His victim wonders through
An unknown place
Lost with no where to turn
Waiting for the right time
As the victim gets closer
In the blink of an eye
He's reached out
Catching his victim for the night
His victim whimpering in fear and pain
Slowly the life draining
From a beautiful creature
As mama wolf drags dinner back to her pups.
The snake showed it to Eve.
Special, secret fruit
Adam persuaded to eat
Good and evil known
fig leaves cover us
meal of first
from genesis 3:6
Vials of stolen waters are sweet
To the drunkard who drinks
As if he has not drank
Who inside is like bottled up wine
Pouring new wines into an old wine skin
Though he must vent, ready to burst
He considers not that the wines will run out
And that the bottle will perish
Thus, the simple man seeks another drink
Making glances and taking chances
With festive dances and forbidden romances
The winebibber staggers and falls into deep ditches
Full of the nectar and the dregs of the flesh
Under the tree of knowledge in fields of subtle venoms
Loaves of secret bread are pleasant
To the glutton who gluts
As if she lacks bread
Wiping her mouth saying she has done no wrong
Though she’s known, a woman given to appetite
Yet she puts not the knife to her throat
Neither considers the dainties before her
That such food id deceitful meat
The strange woman craves more delacacies
Making glances and taking chances
With festive dances and forbidden romances
The riotous eater of flesh gnash a mouthful of gravel
Engorged with the grains she grinds
That pierce, alas, like a sword and stabs like a dagger
Whose drowsiness clothes with rags
And covers such impoverished souls
With hunger and sleep, thus you must listen
Guide your heart in the Way
And be not among them
Lest you learn their ways snaring your one soul.
I do not know?
in the morning
i pick myself out of bed
trying to stand staight
and hold up my head
my mouth is dry
and my tummy aches
the more i get down on my knees
the more my body breaks
run to brush the horrifing
smell off of my teeth
as much i think im winning
my throat tells me im in defeat
my chest is breaking up out
of my own skin
my outside looks nice
but im dying within
its too early to engage
in my ungodly ritutal
i love the high of my process
that has now become habitual
no one sees cause
it all happens on the inside
but the smell that carrys and the loss i have
is somethimes hard to hide
i think of all that i dont gain
and that i do swallow
looking at the toll it takes on me
i ask will make it to tomorrow
in the mirror i can only see all
that i portray
it is just a matter of time now when
i will soon start to decay
my eyes wont tell you
what really happens to my food
when i rush to the bathroom after every meal
i know they think its rude
in 5 years will i start to show
the damage in my throat
i stare at the toliet
and see the evdience a float
so how dose this life style begin
will it be when the doctor
tells me this damage he can not mend
why do i forfill this
when i know this will make me die
as i lean over the toliet
i can only ask myself why?
leaving space between you and what was then. it's clear, nothing makes since. If
only...if only... Breaking what's already been broken. finally knowing that my heart
is what you've been staying for too long. and with each cut and stab and bleed of
my heart, I feel your smile. Not knowing that today is yesterdays lie. All because
of nothing. Empty silence between you and guilt because, you can't face the fact
that I'm dead in your eyes. You can't fix what was then now I'm over. Left with
nothing, but an empty love. The only thing I'm living for is giving up. Watching time
as I pass it by and losing life at the same time. Oh, what a world this would be , if
I was with you and you were with me.I LOVE CHICKEN!!!!!!!