Best Refrigeration Poems
A butcher named Richard McCall
Attended a naturist ball.
But at registration,
Due to refrigeration,
His name tag read "Dickie McSmall".
What a disappointment, and not very nice,
when a hockey game is cancelled for bad ice.
For some reason, the refrigeration unit goes on the blink.
Because of it, there is rough and inconsistent ice on the rink.
There will be no slap shots, checking, and scoring of a goal.
It’s just like getting a Christmas stocking full of coal.
There will be no lights and sirens, and not even one fight.
The teams will have to give it a go on another night.
The Carnivores Next Door
rate the worth and pleasure
of their morning
by the number of shattered lives
they return home dragging
at times there’s broad smiles
and load boasting
gathered friends
who lend to the barbarism
their congenial
conspiratorial toasting
revelling in the blood and sinews
of the fallen
avoiding non-biodegradable packing
and energy absorbing refrigeration
artificial colours
and chemical preservation
the carnivores next door
eating their conservation
How frantic
they got when
a citizen
decided to drop out!
They saw
the whole enterprise
weaken. They thought
all they worked for would
disappear in a moment,
the glue would
come loose, the nails would
pop out. It was scary,
much better to think
that the elements
in the chain were
simply securely fixed,
the atoms remained in crystal,
the ice intact.
Once lost, the citizen was nearly
impossible to restore.
They liked predictability.
That made them most happy.
And predictability
came from education.
They made the world real
by inserting it
into the brains of the young.
Those living in the real world,
our real world, they would say,
they knew
would stay.
They liked refrigeration
that drew the energy
out of the young.
They squandered their money
on the fuel to refrigerate,
keep the crystals
clean and sharp.
Stasis was the easiest
form of familiarity.
Trouble was caused by love of sausage,
Summer sausage by strict definition,
Which is any sausage loved by masses
That can be kept without refrigeration.
Until a day when a man arrives
Walking into a home, his destination,
The sausage was waiting, calling
His name, how could he avoid the temptation?
He lost his vision of all other tasks
In a quest for this pork perfection.
Who is to say it wasn’t true love?
Who can resist the salty pig parts?
The slender casing surrounding the
Tube of leftover scraps, like hearts.
The exact ingredients are makers secrets,
No recipes, or measuring, or charts.
The love in the hands of the artist
Who takes the whole pig, and some parts.
Often mixed with beef or venison
In secret combinations, takes smarts.
The magic of putting it all together,
Mixing and cooking and chopping,
Is wasted on a young man’s greed,
Who never even did the shopping.
Lost in the quest for food and drink
Shoving food in, there’s no stopping.
Heartless abandon to those around
Staying for free, just flopping.
Sausage created a wall for him
Between starving and groc shopping.
Did he even taste the subtle tang
Of a creation with just the right fat?
Does he even know the time it took
To get the ingredients where they’re at?
Did he miss the testament to the hog,
The life of the pig for just that?
Does he even have a clue that all meat,
Fat, salt and herbs, must be so exact?
He couldn’t have wolfed down a log
Of chorizo, for it would be too hot.
He couldn’t have handled the extra
Garlic in one, he’d faint right on the spot.
The mustard seed, black pepper
And salt gave it just the right shot,
Of spices, then add in a grace
Of sugar, to make it the best he got.
Dried or smoked, he grunted right through
Gone in a whisper, it was not.
Is Your Refrigerator Running
Late at night while sleeping or in a trance
Contemplating philosophic thoughts about the universe
Children called on the phone and postulated
An age old question about refrigeration
They shouted loud into the receiver
“Is your refrigerator running sir?!”
(I added the word “sir” since they did not… they must have forgot)
I checked my refrigerator quickly and checked its pulse
Looked inside to discover cold, outside was running hot
Somewhere about its lower region it seemed too hot
The children were so wise, so smart, so intelligent
They astutely suggested that I go and catch it
My refrigerator was running wild with fever
I did not want to get or catch what it might have
What if it’s contagious?
Tomorrow I throw my refrigerator away
And buy a lunch box to replace it
One with Batman or Superman on the lid
Refrigerators have become too complicated
I just need a simple box to keep stuff in
I must remember to thank the kids for what they did
When I was a small child I caught
every germ that came my way.
It is because of Mama’s nursing
that I lived to write about it.
I succumbed to every illness
in which I came in contact.
One of my older brothers caught the dreaded
Scarlet Fever and then one after one
we all became ill. There were seven of us.
We were quarantined for seven weeks.
Before one child was better another was sick
and all the time Mama was caring for us
with no outside help.
She did it all with love
and a lot of common sense
in this day before antibiotics and
other magic drugs.
Mother took her skills into the homes
of her neighbors when the mothers
were laid low.
Two neighbor women sickened
when the flu was running wild.
My mama went to nurse them
and stayed there. Daddy kept
care of us.
She was devastated when the women
after she had nursed them back to semi-health
arose too soon to assume their accustomed duties,
relapsed and died.
Of course she wasn’t paid a cent.
She though it was her duty to
help neighbors in their time of need.
There was only one doctor in
the sparsely settled community and
he couldn’t be everywhere.
Mama was especially happy
when she had a child to care for.
We had a bell beside our bed.
She would come at the first ring.
Mama insisted that we stay
right there in our sick bed
if we had the slightest fever and
she kept us there one more day
after the fever was gone, just to be sure.
She was remembering her good friends
who had risen too soon.
I had pneumonia at six months
and again at nine years.
The doctor had no medicine to cure it.
It was that mom of mine who spent
day and night giving me the
best care she knew.
I remember mustard plasters.
She put them on strong and hot to pull
the fluid from my lungs.
And then when I was better
she brought Jello to my bedside
and spooned in the liquidy,
delicious treat.
There was no refrigeration on
our farm at the time and the
gelatin could not set and hold
properly. But I still remember its
cool goodness.
When we were sick it seemed,
our mom loved us most of all.
This year 2021 seems so very hard
with covid and all its limited implications
but it's worth comparing centuries before
five hundred years before was no celebration
In comparing all these 500 years ago
when it was a world so different from today
this was what Europe then was like
even U.S. hadn't been brought into play
During the 1500s there were no basics
no sewer system, central heating, water supply
refrigeration, antibiotics, penicillin or surgery
in our day not having these we would die
As well as no water heater or water
also, ballpoint pen, typewriter, pc was none
it beggars belief what life was like
life was harsh certainly not much fun
People in that day would've been so poor
struggling would have been a daily chore
so be thankful we're not still back then
despite covid we're still able to roar!
sift through the wind
set of course as the Albatross tread
look at the mountains breathless
the sign in the field evokes fear
try to stop the parting tear
all hellos sport a hello or goodbye
clever notion of a soft reply
the wind blows freely upon my face
to behold the nectar smile
the smile of a child
mistakenly kind
the soda spot king
let freedom ring
the passing value
a challenge to be free
burgers and briefs
withstand a brand new leak
the refrigeration wears skin briefs
shallow from each parting eyes
down by the river
I stand as a forgiver
lay low on the acid
shattered dreams captured
love to share through a nursery rhyme
to barricade the mass beholder
just call me late for dinner
Jerry Garcia and an ace in the hole
take you to far off places you need to go
its a hunt between goodness and by
a shortness o breath
trapped through meadows that give hold of its meaning
Barren in fragrance the toast within
hearken on its rush
to parade again with its mockery
I exist as a vapor then I am no more
The King dreamed of a contraption, a device
that would light up his night, so nice
No wax melting, no moths smelting
Not all that long ago...
He dreamed of food and drink always cold
in a box, a contraption, a device
No spoiling, no milk boiling, so nice
Not all that long ago...
O, and how he dreamed of a box, a device
to keep him cool on the hottest summer's night
No sweating, no tossing, no turning, so nice
Not all that long ago...
You and I are now more privileged
than the wealthiest of those Kings
Our homes, so nice, graced by lightbulbs, refrigeration, a/c
Are we duly grateful -- fellow King -- for all these things
Gold,in many different color's
has effected mankind for age's
Beside's our popular gold,gold
we had white gold,the salt trade
now,we have black gold,oil/gas
"He who has the gold,make's the rule's"
Domination and control
of earthly material's
domination and control
of all the trade route's
domination and control
of earthly inhabitant's
White gold fell to progress
refrigeration,now just flavoring
gold,gold,our basic standard
a constant monetary figure
black gold,we'll see how long
red gold appeared as bloody slave trade...
But,you've got to wonder
what will be our next gold fever ?
In different ancient writing's
most agree on similar aspect's
the (4) cardinal direction's
the four season's
the four color's of mankind
being,white...black...yellow and red
Gold...true gold
what is our next gold fever ??
It sits out in your driveway
a glittering metallic sculpture.
It costs more than your house,
you love it more than your spouse.
You can hardly drive it, it’s too high,
you can barely park it, it’s so wide.
Like an exotic compulsion, you need it,
though you can barely afford to feed it.
There’s a cockpit with winking tech,
offering a printer, wi-fi and refrigeration.
It can pull a house off its foundation.
Is there a tendentious ecological statement,
in this prestigious resource you need for work
is the fact that it’s tax deductible just a perk?
With this polished and pampered machine,
you get the rewards of effective parenting,
as it literally reflects the care that it’s given.
It’s a spaceship ready for expedition,
what else in creation is as elysian,
as your gigantic pickup truck.
.
.
songs for this:
Dreamin’ by G. Love and Special Sauce
Driving by Everything but the Girl
Little Deuce Coupe by Andrew Gold
A place with real healthy green grass, trees, and flowers
variety of wild life free range; all things appreciated
A place with clean air, water, soil and organic foods
eco-system that thrives with smidgen human interferences
A place where food grows abundantly; hording unnecessary
healthy selections every destination; no refrigeration needed
A place where trees are loved, enjoyed, sang to with hugs
fields of flowers with vibrant colors, insects do enjoy
A place where its natural to walk barefoot for connection
sounds of life never gets annoying to the flesh or the soul
A place when the sunrise there's no need to move with hast
feelings of connection to everything enjoying the sunlight
A place when the sunset there's no need to run in fear
knowing of connection to everything enjoying the twilight
A place where dancing and singing is a way of everyday life
moving to beat of a drum and flow with the sound of a flute
A place where acoustics natural sounds can ignite the mood
vibration of the sound waves help stimulate moves with grace
A place where all ideas of creation accepted for what it is
respecting and welcoming other's inner creative genius
A place where eagerness to collaborate to create new things
expressing gratitude for another's fluidity of creativeness
A place where joy never gets overrated, boring, or burnt out
laughter, smiles, happiness, creation and love connects all together
This is a place I would call home
a brief description to set a tone
if this place exist take me there
no hesitation to come back here..
The snow comes on the rumblings of mistakes
As alien nature not named but numbing all the same
Comes crashing, colliding by accident in atmospheres
In fear, chrystals of silence remind us of the loudness
How unkind ice can be accompanied by snow
Once released to tumble down to mimic giants falling
Blinded by colors not of their making
Time stops but not before the storm unfolds
Takes its toll on the unexpected visitors
Drifting by they pound the ground in homage to refrigeration
Rocks stand their ground for a second and by chance
Turn into sand if aging is permitted in their presence
Snow can be dangerous even at a distance if not respected
Ten foot trees below the timberline are frozen solid
In solace they take their weight for granite in repose
Granted, their seismic temblors can cause earthquakes
When landing on the heart is no mistake
Branches pray in their bankruptcy to winter mysteries
At what cost if they should lose their souls to snow
If this were any other planet other than Earth
Each snowflake would be lost to the significance
Of being worth its weight in gold
we didn't put it in the refrigeration
bought yesterday
watermelon, this morning,
my wife cut it in half with a knife
And then, as soon as she did
Beautiful red color and
Black seeds smile and say
"Good morning."
we ate delicious,
I said without tasting it
"your skill in picking,
watermelon and people,
the best!"