Best Eat Drink And Be Merry Poems
Oh, what tangled webs we’re willing to weave,
When from our good senses we take leave,
Ignoring the Higher power.
With reckless abandon and lavish expenses,
We drink bitter dregs sin’s cup dispenses,
For sensual pleasures of the hour.
We pay for the pleasures we pursue,
For a measure of mirth, exciting and new.
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die!”
Why believe a lie from history cast
Depriving us of life with future vast;
Weaving tangled webs, empty and dry?
Christ is the answer. Give Him a try.
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive.—Sir Walter Scott
Looks like dem old ugly chains
got a new modern face
Beauty upgrade ... high-end cosmetic tech;
low-cost dressed in labor modest,
minimum maintentance convenience
From da delta plain sugar cane fields,
to the glamorous Silicon Valley hills:
Ancient bigotry of blood biochemistry
required some thinking ahead
Remove dem outdated iron appendages
from da carbon-based legs
Loose dem fettered bodies from da plantation
That warm-hearted gesture
was prompted by the cold realization
of mechanized industrialization
Machines worked tirelessly better than humans,
with zero margin error for rebellion
From da poppy-white numb cotton field chores,
to the black-site, laboratory rat maze corridors:
Modern slavery has been plastic,
guinea pig perfected;
Darkly spirit heavy iron chains
got replaced by skin light bar codes,
and microscopic nanobyte pain
in the nether layers of the epidermal
From plantation to implantation ...
total body control to full mind control
Invisible chains is a better option
From forced emancipation to voluntary enslavement ...
necessity of convenience shackles the soul
Grateful servitude is a Dead adoption
Go sing illusory freedom, spiritual songs
in an unseen force-field:
Laser etched number scrip plantation
Eat, drink and be merry, ye bonded bones ...
harvest a bountiful yield
Give curses to the marked implantation —
corrupt binary code command subjugation
The Mephistophelean workplace
is a future-now,
internal space Gulag situation ...
an augmented field mule muzzled occupation
With plenty of open-air, coffin acerage:
rows and rows
of furrowed thought manipulation
Dem New Age lobotomy slaves
be toiling on a grave condition plantation,
whose dirt cellular
cubic dimensions are:
Six-by-six-by-six injected damnation
The delicate flowers blow on the bough And fragrance and color bestow The symphony of chirping birds resound in valleys and fields Gigantic clouds bring rains and enriched soil yields
Light and warmth is the sun’s gift and the moon gifts its glow When ice melts on high mountains underneath them rivers flow All the things have a purpose, each a role to play What is the purpose of my being? I beseech someone say
Have I any greater purpose; have I a greater role? Or eat, drink and be merry is my life's object sole My youthful days and love life are shorter than a wink Like Socrates the hemlock of death will be served to me to drink
Life has what meaning for me, tell me what it’s for What if I have meager means or have resources more Happiness always distances when love remains apart My chest becomes a target for the anguish’s lethal dart
What is the purpose of my being; how I long to know To the soul’s stark darkness give the vision’s glow
Sintra, Portugal – Sept. 1, 2013.
Oreos with chocolate chips
Potato sticks with onion dip
Drip the cheese all over those fries
Three scoops of ice cream and apple pie
Frito-lay corn chips beside a guacamole-filled bowl
Don't forget those Boston-creme doughnut...holes
And how about all the candies and the chocolate cake
Something's got to give you a slight stomach ache
These are merely appetizers, of course
Now it's time for the game, to eat like a horse
First comes the turkey, with stuffing and butttered yams
Along with sides of potato fritters and honey-glazed ham
Throw in a few sirloin steaks with sauteed onions, hot off the grill
A Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut'll give your taste buds a thrill
Now -- how foolish of me! -- I've forgotten the drinks
Left them in a cooler under the kitchen sink ...
So let's down a few maragaritas and some imported red wine
Y'all leave some room for beer chasers --- in a mug or a stein
Yes, fans, it's under two months till Super Bowl Sunday
Better start dieting now, so you'll still fit in your undies!
God, does not want us to suffer,
he has told us, in the Bible,
how to build a better life,
Proverbs says time and time again,
"Seek knowledge"
knowledge leads to careers,
education leads to jobs,
wages to support ourselves,
"Eat drink and be merry"
"sit not at the table of the drunk"
So drink and enjoy your life,
but don't let it, destroy your life,
the parable of the talents,
invest Gods money,
to make five times more,
creating jobs to overcome poverty,
God does not want you to suffer,
yet people do no follow,
the word of God,
people do drugs,
people join in the drug trade,
people allow poverty,
to rule the world.
people create wars,
people create violence,
people rape children,
people waste his money,
people steal,
God leaves people,
to do what they want,
but they will be judged,
at the end of their lives,
Like a farmer God created
the perfect world,
but Satan filled the world,
with imperfection.
God waits like the Farmer
waiting for the crops to grow,
seeing your life,
he will choose if you should be saved,
the way you treat others,
determines, whether you
are apart, of the good crop
or the bad,
God does not want you to suffer,
yet people create the suffering,
it's time, that the people
learned to work together,
saving, investing,
creating work,
to overcome the poverty
and suffering of others.
I am a tiny winged buzzing insect
A friend to folks and flowers alike
Another name for hard work
Toiling untiring from dawn to dusk
I set out merry, humming a tune,
On my professed mission of gathering honey
The flowers freshly bathed in dew
Eagerly await my propitious visit
I like to flit from flower to flower
I love dallying with floral beauties
Gladiolus, Chrysanthemums and Petunias
Red geraniums and colorful Zinniahs
But I prefer to hover over clustered blooms
Which hang from trees’ stooping boughs
From each flower I sup to my fill
And my body gets covered in yellow dust
I don’t believe in the Epicurean dictum
Of ‘Eat, drink and be merry’
Neither do I live just for today
I await a future that is trouble free
We work tireless till the day is done
And see that every cell of our hive is full
We never complain of those among us
Who stay idle and thrive on our labor
Never grumble against the privileged Queen
Who enjoys unique status with rights many
For we respect the Nature-ordained hierarchy
As we know, a mob without a leader would be anarchy
Bee Creative Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Matt Caliri
Placed First
23. Jan. 2022
For Strand’s (1058) Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Brian Strand
And the leopard shall lie down with the kid
Isa. 11:6
My, my, my
Fancy meeting you here, kid
You're looking good enough to eat,
you got good taste, I can tell
Back in the day,
you woulda made a mighty fine leopard treat
But I'm a vegetarian now,
don't that make you wanna say, holy cow
Well, well, well
I'm flattered how you spotted me so easily
You see I'm stepping with a new look,
I'm not the same person I used to be
No more billy goat, stubborn and tough streak;
now, I'm just a nice, tender-hearted person,
no longer selling myself like a piece of meat
Indeed, indeed, indeed
It's a new world we're living in,
and all the changes look very good to me
No more predators, high brow
Puffy hearts, no elite
No more helpless prey,
or diseased minds
No more spiritual effete
Um, um, um
The purr of your voice sounds so sweet,
I'm loving the words you're speaking to me
No more cruel urban jungles,
or village mires of poverty
No more vacuous rural living,
no more suburban sterility
Let's give a non-fermented toast,
fare good riddance to the old way
Yes, let us come eat, drink and be merry,
refresh our souls at the new world café
Day dawns.
Dark clouds gather on the skyline
Looming over the roofs of traffic
Passing on the bridge.
Houseboats lay moored silently
On the still waters of the Thames,
Surrounded by stark buildings;
Houses once so grand,
Inhabited by the select,
Now fallen from grace.
The air is crisp and cool,
Typically October,
Everywhere touched
By the golden hand of autumn
Scattering her dress wantonly;
Leaves skip and dance
Along the pavement,
Swirl around the feet of passers-by
And scurry into the road
Playing catch-me-if-you-can
With the passing cars.
Streets bustle and teem with city folk
Going to and from their destination
Mingling among them
Visitors taking in the sights,
Every now and then stopping
To capture a moment in time....
Dusk creeps down.
The roads now packed
With the hum of angry motorists
Trying to flee from the insanity
Of noise and confusion,
Comforted only by thoughts of
Cosy warmth,
Glowing fires
And the welcoming smell of hot food.
Night falls;
With an expectant buzz,
The city preparing for revellers
Drawn to its bright lights-
Seeking desires of the flesh
(And maybe wants of the heart)
So they eat,drink and be merry,
Then stagger out
Into the darkness
Filled with the nights memories,
Some with tinges of regret.
Eventually a hush descends,
The city sleeps
Comfortable and warm
In Its beds
Fitfully resting
In readiness for morning......
Except for those tucked away;
In some forgotten corner,
Who as winter nights draw in
Face a certainty of struggling
Against biting winds
With just the protection
Of cardboard and paper,
And only the promise of maybe
For the coming tomorrow.
'Six slices a day is the well balanced way'
the boffins back then told us all,
but now I'm not impressed, they say 'wholemeal is best,
and more healthy' their clarion call.
For a good spirit lifter, an evening snifter
was, we were told, good for the heart,
now they say fourteen units (down from twenty-one)
in a week keeps you safe, if you're smart.
'Drinka pinta milka day' the adverts said,
it's good for the teeth and the bones,
now 'half fat, low dairy' the choices are scary
I may well just leave them alone.
Our family had chips cooked in gallons of lard,
spread dripping and salt on our toast,
bacon ate with the rind, and no scraps left behind
gravy made with the juice from the roast.
We ate this sinful food with no qualms or remorse
and left the table feeling full,
those boffins may be right but I think, with hindsight
that their lives must be terribly dull.
>Overfed
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author.
And Poetry Soup Honourably Mentioned.
Are you feeling overfed? Do you enjoy stuffing your head?
Actually I meant your mouth. But this is poetry about your health!
Rhymes are hard when I can’t say. You are really fat today.
No, I must say, body mass index, or overweight
As fat is what upsets your plate.
Especially when it is dry, it has to be scraped off, I sigh.
So if you are overweight from fat. Just stop eating too much of that.
And if you eat healthily!
The fat you have may soon go. Unless you have an illness so.
Then to Doctors you must flow. And perhaps they’ll help your fat to go.
Or body mass index or overweight.
So, remember to leave that fat upon your plate.
NB. I was once told once by my GP. My body mass index, although it was called my BMI, was 27.47133, which meant not a blinking thing to I.
Eat drink and be merry at Christmas time, but remember the golden rule, Do not drink, do drugs recreational or medical and drive. That way I can annoy you all next year. lol
This poem was inspired as I was writing my life story and I mentioned I would not eat a piece of gristly fat. My foster mother made me sit at the table and made me miss a Sunday afternoon's play I was only about 8 at the time. The only consolation I had was none of the cats she had or the strays she fed would eat it. And yes I did smile when I saw her put the offending lump of gristly fat in the dustbin. <
The needful prescription is scary,
Though we promise ourselves that we’ll try it,
So let us eat, drink, and be merry,
For tomorrow we diet.
The Night Belshazzar Died…
The night when Belshazzar seen
God’s writing on the wall,
He did not know that soon
Babylon would FALL.
This king who thought he was so
“awesome and great.”
Didn’t know that death soon
would be his fate.
“Eat, drink and be merry”
was the motto of the day.
But God had something
else to say!
The days of endulging themselves
in wickedness and sin,
Was soon to be destroyed
by their enemies within.
This life which for long
you have enjoyed,
Shall one day perish
and be destroyed.
Allow the “writing of God”
to reach your heart’s door.
It is for you that Jesus died for!
Don’t allow the enemy
to destroy your soul.
For Jesus loves you more
than you’ll ever know!
By Jim Pemberton
2008
Dare to conquer the multitude
Dare to win the unforeseen battle.
Dare to sing among the victors
Dare to speak the unspeakable.
All is grist that comes to the mill
Actions speak louder than words.
Adversity makes strange bedfellows and
All is fair in love and war.
Dare to climb the mountains,
April showers bring forth may flowers.
Ask no question and hear no lies.
Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.
Doubt is the beginning not the end of wisdom.
You are not a prisoner though your life may toss
And turn like a boat on a turbulent sea
Dear to do the unbelievable in the face of the world.
Relent not in the little which hang in the air
Never settle for the less
Dare to challenge the lions, and roar louder.
bring down the heavens on earth
Fight the elephants of the forest, bark like a dog
Howl like the wolves in the cruel dark night.
Forget about the frustration in the air and make heart
Beat faster and clearer the way to make the air moves freely.
Dare to speak the truth in the midst of the hyenas
Give it what it takes with blood in your eyes.
When a dead man walks the living man should arise
And run bravely to overthrown the tyrants.
Dare your gut and the street forget you not.
live flammable like the fuel in the tanker,
Dare and live the rest of your life a hero.
“Eat, drink, and be merry,”
the cry goes out,
as the party ensues.
Unsteady bodies, alcohol impeded
joints and limbs, numbed
commonsense, as they
dance, fornicate, and drink,
unknowing or ignoring
the Black Spectre of Death
who peers at these simpletons
through its beaked-face mask,
patiently awaiting the moment
its sharpened blade makes
its downward journey
upon the necks of the partying.
One would think,
armed with historical fact,
the simpletons of today
would have learned
from the deaths of close
to four hundred million
human lives, who chose
to dance in drunken abandon
beneath the blade of the
Beaked-faced, Middle Age demon.
Stupidity, as infectious as the plague,
the one human constant
throughout the ages,
dooming the dimwitted
to foolishly dare pandemic demons
to strike them down.
Brazen stupidity will not
save them from fact.
The grim Beak-faced Spectre
grins at their challenge
sharpens its ax,
… and strikes.
Perhaps the world should watch
the story of Polyanna
a little girl came to a town
embattled by fueds
her aunt owned the factory
and through greif had stopped
the town from creating fun
the child went from one to another
teaching them to find the joy of life
offering the helping hand
she made herself useful
creating friendship
she offered advice
she stated that the bible
says over six hundred times
to be happy
eat drink and be merry
slowly bit by bit
she made the town
a happier place
perhaps the world should watch
the story of Polyanna
perhaps bit by bit
we could make the world a better place