Best Dietary Poems
~Woody Wood From the Hood~
Deep, inside yourself, you walk a sour way of life,
Carving my name, on every tree with a hunting knife
You log in, then log out
A Birdman So Fickle, he Stinks of doubt!
Blind today, bald tomorrow,
Big Bird, will be your only friend
I can't seem to forget the day, you shed your final skin
Revealing a darker snake, than the one in my garden
Leaving the word betrayal, up to the imagination
Trust not the fool, who thinks his halo is heaven sent
Using a fake ballpoint pen dietary supplement
Thinning out his wings, and losing the symbolic meaning
Aging in a way, that spreads crows feet from top to bottom
Sapsucker revolving yellow as if it was always autumn
Pecking Hard Wood, MR Pecker of all woodpeckers
Forgetting who's the real Home-wrecker
Your dragging pants are no bother, Mr Woodpecker!
I've gotten used to the tree talking and your creative vision
Let's just say, "Gangster to Gangster, I gave you a mission."
Keep rapping and tapping the same old street sign,
Woodstock, on demand, crap out the peanut punch
Whatever suits you for breakfast and lunch
Don't forget dinner's also about me
Go ahead!
Peck away with deception, reveal your sullen evil feathers
A disease urine Birdman, doing it snoopy style
A flightless, lightless liar, nothing about him's worthwhile
Keep manipulating the weak, whatever turns you on
I'm not ready to shoot you down with my shotgun
~SKAT~
Violence in the political party
A pebble thrown to defend oneself from a barrage of 100- stones
The bully then complains of abuse—might never makes right
will we unite?—I Am Anaya “All for one and one for all”
Bullied everyday was he, his peer would tell the news agent
He was different, a loner, weird, wore camouflage
And so, we tormented him
A lunch bench, a boy sequestered was “bullied every day”
Silent, defeated, sunken, he rarely spoke a word
Clean slate, passes a routine background check
A dietary aid prepping food in a nursing home
Nothing unusual nothing remarkable
Republican at heart for God knows what gave way, donates
to the loyal opposition a progressive bent
A bit addled and mixed up, can we see?
Unleashing his wrath a man filled with hurt with hate
In his own backyard, the tormented dons the guise of the tormentor
The assailed becomes the assailant
The unthinkable is done, perched upon a roof
four-hundred feet away just minutes into the oration
he aims then pulls the trigger
obscure and distressed Crooks alters history’s course
with a firearm at the ready as a duty and right
Father Crooks kept many, in a very pro-gun town
At the hands of a 20-year-old man who was
bullied by their own sons and daughters
Counselors, both father and mother
trained to help troubled minds, how ironic
Where were they as their son’s inner storm brewed?
A blind eye turned away what shame, what horror
Yet the world’s most salient story
-- Just a bit of silliness --
"Baissez le rideau, la farce est jouee..."
---- Daumier
39 & 1/2 days had passed;
the rain had lessened.
Noah, grungy and grumpy,
paced the wet deck
like a caged Lion of Judah.
Reading the Odyssey by blubber-light,
Jonah, a free-thinker, cruised
in his whale below; he marveled,
captainishly, carefully pronouncing
the unfamiliar Greek, an uninvented
tongue he couldn't speak.
Ham, an adherent to all the dietary
restrictions, was relieved
at the journey's almost-close.
Consultation of the Holy Books
had proved he wasn't kosher
and, therefore, could not be served.
Still, Shem and Japhet eyed him oddly.
They had a lean and hungry look.
The wives, sensible lot,
cleaned the kennels, did the chores
and tried to keep an even keel
in the anachronistic mess.
They drifted onward,
tired of fishing fruitless waters,
doubtful now of being made
fishers of men.
All things considered, it was
a perfectly normal situation:
men were mystics
and women staid and sturdy workers.
And yet, Ararat, still beneath the waters,
may not have been the only futuristic
structure in this grey, flat
seascape.
The skillet hung near the old wood-burning kitchen stove.
Aside from her family, Mom considered it a special trove.
With that blackened old pan she prepared delicious repasts,
That in my judicious opinion will ne'er be surpassed!
Ah, just to recall the tasty grub stewed up in that old skillet!
How it tingled my taste buds just sliding down my gullet!
The chicken, steaks and chops in that old pan she did fry,
Evoked oohs and aahs and many a contented sigh!
She liberally dolloped lard in the pan 'til she had it just right,
Then concocted stews, soups and fried taters for our delight!
Mom was never concerned about such things as saturated fat,
Or life-threatening cholesterol and such things as that!
I suppose medicos today would have a conniption fit,
If they knew of the dietary sins my Mom did commit.
She must've done something right - her spouse lived past ninety-four.
Her kids outlived the odds, each reaching four score years or more!
Self-anointed wizards deem cast iron skillets detrimental to our health,
But I think they're just peddling new fads to add to their wealth!
My dear spouse uses her old iron skillet most every day.
I feel fit as a banjo regardless of what so-called experts may say!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For there abide beef, pork and chicken
and the greatest of these is bacon
hot sizzling crispy to the tongue
satiating succulently scrumptious bacon.
For bacon curries no favor
plays the field tempts the stoic and saintly
slides into gustatorial beds
romps with tomato and lettuce
hangs out with eggs, hard boiled and soft
mocks the ten condiments
bathes in the sinful seven
is prideful
lusts after
the last greed filled bite
of gluttony
provokes the envy
of slothful
greasy lust.
Ah, bacon
you grease the skids
of dietary destruction
stalk the fat cells
of cellulitic cravings
tempt the tendrils of scent
with your aphrodisial aroma
inducing a pheromonal fling.
Oh bacon
you promiscuous panderer
curvaceous little porker
I believe
I trust
I lust
in and after your truth.
John G. Lawless
©11/2/2019
Ain't no wonder we're baffled about eatin' - ever'thing is taboo.
We're deluged by self-appointed gurus toutin' their points uv view.
Can't they desist and find somethin' more productive to do?
They can eat their tofu and water cress- I prefer a hearty stew!
The experts can't determine which is best, reg'lar coffee er decaf,
So I slurp my mornin' joe, settlin' fer a mug uv half n' half.
Fast foods ain't recommended but I'd fight fer Burger King Whoppers!
Ain't nobody tellin' me what I can er can't chomp on with my choppers!
Some folks say aigs is good fer you - some say they're not.
I eat 'em boiled, fried and scrambled - it don't mean diddley squat!
Another profound debate persists and causes me to muse,
Is whether it's wholesome er not to partake uv a snort of booze!
Seems these fellers jes' confound our lives and like to obfuscate,
Leavin' the rest uv us bewildered as they continue their debate.
My cholesteral, glucose and platelets wuz perfect in my last exam.
I've survived nigh four-score years eatin' pizza, cake and spam!
I guess its politically correct to engage in the latest dietary fad,
But in brief, here's the case uv my dear old Mom and Dad.
They et what they wanted and survived four-score years and more,
Never mindin' the cholesterol, fats and carbs that docs now abhor!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Almonds encased in hard red candy
Brandy from snow white walnuts
Collateral damage to the left front bumper of the sled
Dietary restrictions on anything considered a spice
Everything more often wins the day
Francesca left her pie though (no one will eat that)
Gluwein, go get it, we need it now
Hysterical colors spin all around me
Illicit behavior may well be tolerated though only after 10pm
Jellybeans are being shoved into orifices now
Knives are being put away for the safety of everyone here (especially Dwayde)
Lathering up all the kid's faces now to resemble tiny maniac Santas
My mother is making tea
No one will drink
Octopussy is playing in the background
Phantasmagoria bread pudding
Quickly tell me who ate all the bread pudding
Round them up and shoot them
Seriously
The only thing I ever eat is the bread pudding and everyone knows it
Unusual cravings now
Vertical with help from the wall
Waiting for someone named Misty to return from her car with her white elephant
Xenon purple body
Yuletide clopping going on inside my head
Zesty reds streak across the insides of my eyelids
"It's Thanksgiving" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Oh, My Darling Clementine".
It's Thanksgiving, it's Thanksgiving,
It's Thanksgiving-time to eat;
Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes,
Pumpkin pie...yum, what a treat!
Bonus activity: Ask children if they were preparing Thanksgiving dinner, which foods they would prepare. Would they prepare traditional dishes, such as turkey, mashed potatoes and pie? Or nontraditional dishes like tofu turkey and carob chocolate pie? Or, would they simply order a pizza? Why did the child choose that particular menu fare-love of tradition, special dietary needs, ease of preparation?
Alphabet soup, homemade, here's how
Begin the dish with alphabet pasta and homemade chicken broth
Coriander is next, chopped finely and bruised in cloth
Dice some carrots and parsnips, add chopped swedes as well
Endives and onions tickle the taste buds, create aroma for smell
Fennel bulbs and feathery fronds add pique and intrigue
Grate some Parmesan, add mace and cumin, for spicy blitzkrieg
Heat on high to just before boiling, then reduce heat and simmer gently on low
Insert a spoon and swirl to see perchance what the letters spell out on surface floe
'Just' eat the better half of all meals on your plate
'Keep' snacks at bay by banning from pantry, making temptation abate
'Lessen' you loaf time by walking, running, cycling an hour each day
'Make' wholesome meals, with whole fresh foods and vegetable buffet
'No' more quick junk food fixes to cure feeling-down and depressed
'Or' between meal snacks when hunger pangs bite and diet gets stressed
'Portion' control is far easier that counting calories each time you eat
'Quell' your calories by skipping lunch or one other meal, and each day repeat
'Regular' fasting far easier than eating dietary greens and stuff with no appeal
'Sociably' better, sharing main meal with family, friends, bypassing diet exclusion ordeal
'To' make sure you keep on track to lose weight, eating less and keeping slim
'United' plan and pledge to make durable lifestyle changes to become terrific and trim
'Verily' to keep to your plan, to keep from being beaten
'Waiting' no more to make it happen
'Xeroxed' copies of Mediterranean Diet Recipes at the ready
'Yearning' to be slim and terrific with weight steady
'Zapping' through each day with gusto
People label others "money hungry"
when they demand what they have worked
for, unsavory characters have a way of turning
earned salaries into an ugly metaphor,
Money Hungry is best described when one
has a penchant to consume dollar bills,
for nutritional values or thrills,
The rich can be misconstrued as being
money hungry, for each deal they conduct
it requires money deliveries,
They only do philanthropic work for free,
and they too still demand a salary,
Therefore, if one is not craving money
for dietary requirements, then to call
them "money hungry" is pure nonsense.
The country is so filthy with garbage all over the dearest homes People are sick with unpleasant smell and poor sanitations, poor managements. In such country that claiming to have functional government to the gravel of my thought, pin the pain to pink appointment in the morning to monster cowries to swing of crabs.
Fed up witnessing innocent souls departing from us seeking another world with totally different environment, where your face cooler to the duty of your fingers to the fan of the grave. You suppose to stay here to helm it people, then you left us in innumerable thoughts, the garment hem are the only thing picturing in my imagination.
He cannot stop the pain of death panging the back to the battle field, the flies force the citizens to leave the city and seek another continent of no communication between people. People only stopped slapping their faces when they are in beds; the country is stinking like rot eggs middle summer while the heartless man exploiting our resources to rusticating and resuscitating his family overnight.
Keeping us captives in our mother’s wombs, well they are living in luxurious lives styles and pushing the best cars in town, the layman is down there with curled hair sweating to make end meets. He cannot fill his belly with a single dietary; they blow their noise on us whole day with their cars beeping all days long.
Cursing us with exhaust pipes poisoning our lungs, the city is candles city there are no infrastructures because they have built fences of tribalism which keep us apart. The poor have no alternatives except to flee the city, because they no longer welcomed to integrate with the elites.
The country is littering with rubbish, sick is everywhere; people are dying from treatable diseases. The country is bust up with tribalism, sectionalism and nepotism. The citizens are seeing impotent government steering the wheel of the state like the moment of a statue and there are lots of frustration among the youths and the elderly.
The country has contaminated with toxic acid of tribalism, politics has eaten in our hearts establishing hared among cemented thought and mechanical breakdown.
...for the Rev Eric Shirvell-Price
A blizzard of papers blanketed his desk.
His pipe rack stood like a chess piece,
mutely waiting to be shifted.
Sepia toned photographs lined the mantlepiece,
like soldiers standing at attention,
and there was a smell of stale tobacco.
Volumes and manuscripts burst
from a bookshelf, while origami figures
lined another. A coffee mug bore stains
of sherry aperitifs, and port to accompany
his after dinner cigar. Crosswords
and limericks were everywhere,
vestiges of his light and lively mind.
There were newspaper articles,
and empty fast food containers, evidence
of lonely, late night dietary indiscretions.
His vestments hung limply from a coat hook
like wraiths, belying his portly frame.
the frame which now lay in a mahogany box,
a whisper of his former self,
a shadow of the man that he once was.
Playing tic tac toe with a triangular time bomb can be said to be a great idea for a triathlon of terrifically trained turnips whose expertise in the feats show a huge display of dedication, dietary dresses, and downright deserved dutiful distinguished drag. But a stage is not a stallion nor a stagnant shaped ship. But wait now and look over there and carefully study what is around. It is the fast fishes. Fast fishes fleeing flying fermented frogs. And the arrival of a little deck of cards is quite astounding really. For cards clap ecstatically exciting excellent extrasensory extraterrestrials eating evening electric eels. Oh great. Here is the glass beads chatting again. Clutter jingle. In a clatter. Of course in a clatter for clatter chatter is a seasoned dish of cubic carved corn smiling in weapon proof sunhats. Dare to dance the dance of delight with a dishcloth then. Good. Fantastic. Hahah the sea wheels are treading over an otter hut. Hahaha mangos balancing on top of a fifty acre sky scraper. Xxxxx psychologically z z z z 1 2 3 4 pea leap. Z
Form:
-Food for thought...-
Distributed freeze-dried nutrition,
a consumers dietary attrition?
Constitutional, by institutional
conglomerate corporate ambition.
Do our politicians convictions
mandate our "home-style" traditions?
It's the consumption, of faux production,
that decays our human condition.
-Anonymously youRs-
(Copyrighted to DigitallyDefectiveArt)
Form:
"I Love Jelly" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques".
Bonus activity: Set up a jelly-tasting station where you prepare toast for the
children. Include the usual favorites like grape and strawberry as well as offbeat
flavors like jalapeno and pomegranate. Include several sugar-free jellies for children
with special dietary needs. Prepare a piece of toast for each child. Cut each piece of
toast into 4 squares. Then let each child choose 4 flavors he or she would like to try
and give him or her a ballot to fill out. Tally the votes at the end of the session and
write the results on the blackboard. Was grape the favorite flavor? Any votes for
jalapeno? Discuss why or why not.
I love jelly,
I love jelly,
On my toast,
On my toast.
(Strawberry) is the flavor,
(Strawberry) is the flavor,
I love most,
I love most!