Wishes
Hot air of the mouth
Desires
Baseless notions riddled with doubt
I wait for you
I watch for you
Brave in life, coward in love
Send me a sign
Beacon of life from Above
And so is Below
Where feelings fester and grow
Beneath the surface of something intangible
Beneath the truth is forbidden fruit
Beneath my smile is longing for you
Beneath my joy are desires untold
Beneath my skulls fantasies unfold
How I long
How I wait
Another helping on my dinner plate
The indulgence, the greedy
This want, lust consumes me
Or is it love?
I ask of nothing
I expect even less
I sit in silent stress
Your life flows by
No but I'm waiting, watching
Hand in hand with time
As a patient soul, one could argue it is fate
One could argue I deserve another helping on my dinner plate
Or one could not
One could decide it is my time to wait and rot
One could accuse me of the greatest sin of all
Expecting the love of another without showing mine
I stall.
The night I met you, I was deeply afraid,
terrified, my nerves were badly frayed.
I pulled you from the party crowd.
My confidence, you allowed.
I cried to you. I wasn't proud.
We both had too much wine,
my bloody valentine.
I knew that your feelings were sincere.
Soon, you would always be near.
Your gentle understanding showed.
To your charms, you gave the code.
Your love, to me, bestowed,
I gobbled it like a swine,
my bloody valentine.
Thinking too much of myself, I was.
What I could offer you wasn't love.
It was a deplorable crime,
I can't wash off this guilty grime.
I should be doing time,
burning in a hellish brine,
my bloody valentine.
I'm haunted every Valentine's Day,
a lifetime sentence I have to pay.
There is every reason for your hate.
It's less than forgiveness I await.
Take my conscience off your dinner plate,
as your ghost does me, malign,
my bloody valentine.
Octopus Oscar needs all tentacles eight
One to carry his dinner plate
One to hold during his presidential debate
One to write upon his sixties slate
One to open the garden gate
One to watch, so he will not be late
One to cuddle his friend, Kate
One to open his second-hand freight
One to balance, so he could roller skate
The beauty of the evening,
The blushing horizon in the west
I adore much the taste
Of sugary sweets blended
In the black coffee
In the mug of beautiful evening
Moistens my thirsty throat,
To alleviate an exhaustion
After my daily affairs.
The glow of appealing eve
Freezes to the stark darkness.
Thin cover of Black Satin
Sets nightly all over my body.
The cool and soft warmth
Of my subconscious body
Spins the deep slumber.
My whole body are then senseless:
By the immeasurable beauty
Of my beloved.
Warming me up at a snail's pace
Plunges to an iridescent dreams.
After having dinner,
Nice reflection of the glowing eve
Switches into gloomy night
I clean my hand and mouth
And feel me cozy by the leftover
At the edge of my dinner plate
Midnight snacks sparkle
Like diamond inside the coal.
The midnight snacks
A few pieces of food desecrates
As the complexity of my life
Tastes saline as the ocean water do,
Comes out frequently
Of my dehydrated throat
Something more pleasant savors.. .
*
I am hiding with my bestie Fred
The deer are near
the deer, the deer
They are carnivores and cannibals
If they we were here, there would be much to fear
Fred is screaming and it is clear
The deer are here, the deer are here
They will eat us off the vine they will
Gone already are Jack and Jill
Hold up! Things might be looking great!
The farmer’s wife is putting us on a dinner plate.
Wash those tomatoes! Her bossy husband calls.
Fred does a dive, landing on one of their grandson’s balls.
Is it still good? The farmer yells to his wife.
“So far so good!” I yell out
No longer full of fear or strife.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between finding a soul mate,
And having a cell mate.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between mates' rates,
And paying the rates.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between not being late,
And a broken dinner plate.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between staying up late,
And the boss having no need to berate.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between Marrying Kate,
And staying in a single state.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between tempting fate,
And having something better to celebrate.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between having time to create,
And having time to hate.
The choices we make,
Can be the difference between being in a positive state,
And worrying about your heart rate.
I lined up the vegetable crazies onto a dinner plate.
They stuck out their tongues, their tummies were great.
With scrunched up faces, I wondered if they knew their fate.
Eight gnarled up turnips lying on a flat dinner plate.
I used to have cheese as a slice
Boring , but it still tasted nice
Then in Christmas 23
I had a present bought for me
What a marvel, what a sight
Greeted my eyes that Christmas night
For a while I had been waiting
Now unwrapped, I could start grating !
Wife said “put it away now, do it later “
“No” said I - “give me my rotary grater”
I grated cheddar, then tried Brie,
Even a nice grilled halloumi.
I was quite the artisan
With a block of Parmesan
The piles of cheese grew bigger
And the family could not figure
Why on that family Boxing Day
I would grate, grate, grate away
Fat grate , thin grate , powder grate
Adorned the Christmas dinner plate
My wife with eyes now wide and round,
Said “ My oh my, that’s quite a mound !
“ I shaped the cheese into a wreath
And said “if bits stick in your teeth “
“Don’t reach out for the dental picks,
“ Jan’s also sent some dentastix”
If turkey’s all marched on congress
With anger they cannot suppress
They could get some relief
If people just ate beef
Could Biden save them from distress!
Thanksgiving is one day each year
All turkeys are worried I hear
As for many their fate
Is on a dinner plate
No wonder these fowl live in fear
We remember
That night of horror
When the future was stamped and the cogs were slain
When the execution ground shone red with blood
The blood of the helpless cogs
We remember the horrors
Gunshots like fireworks
The cries of cogs like wolves in the night
As devil's favourite demons feed on raw flesh
We remember the depressed winds
The howling of the tortured winds
The breeze of grief. Of cold steeled grief.
As the cogs kneel with tears in their cheeks
Hands grasping the blood stained shield
Songs of hope in their trembling lips.
Fire! The only noise from the blood crazed hunters
As more cogs fall on the blood soaked floor.
Mother's in pain
Father's groaning inward
Siblings gathered around the dining table
Waiting for the blood filled dinner plate.
We remember the silence
The blood thick silence
The howls of the winds
As it whispers "gory" "gory".
We Shall Not Forget.
Violet’s an arrogant bossy cow
I know the farmer knows this now
Luke the farmer says, “It's time to mate her”
Evan the bull moos, “No deal, I hate her”
Violet will not go near the bull
Alas she’ll soon be for the cull
Cos she’s costing money to be fed
Her refusal means soon she’ll be dead
Ending up on our dinner plate
09/02/23
fly'in in were gonna take note's
no appointment madman's order's
no way no caucas no way just order's
strait from the heart
wen't out from start to carcass conscience
for the night
a prayer for those in need of help
a prayer some light
a dinner plate of horror
a prayer for oppressor to stop
a prayer for people hurting
a prayer for people healing
a path with no enemy's on it
a good night
for bad plan's to go stale
and 1860 express lucid note's to fail
wake up
time for meddling
meddling away the day
it's got a bad rap
wake up
pray on demand
yelling goes over well
with a no no no never
yelling deserves the medal
dinner plate of medley would be just fine
side of baby corn's will come up later
deserves a medal
**Parody time! Please open your hymnals to "He Lives" as this what you can sing this parody to the tune too.
I eat a deep dish pizza,
it's in my mouth right now.
I know that it is tasty,
despite the carbs it has;
I see its mound of cheese,
its topped with mushrooms too.
And just because I want it,
I'll add the ranch.
The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun!
I snack on it and munch on it
upon my dinner plate.
The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun.
You ask me how I like my pizza?
I like it in my tummy.
With all the food around me
I choose the fresh baked cheese,
And tho my mouth did water
I'll add the pineapple.
I know I need the chicken
and the ranch dressing.
The time of my delivery,
will fill me up.
The fun, the fun,
the pizza is the fun!
I snack on it and much on it,
upon my dinner plate.
The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun.
You ask me how I like my pizza?
I like it in my tummy.
Within an overplay of paneled oak
and illumination fittingly low,
set upon a table, its style baroque
a lighted candle, its shimmering glow
plays an unopened bottle of Bordeaux
Distant soft murmurs of discrete lovers
a pop of cork, the chinking of a glass
gentle rustling of changed table covers,
the whooshing of a skirt as waitress pass.
Low background music with a mellow bass.
A rich old earthy scent from burning log
is mixed with fragrant kitchen spices, sweet
arouses memories of synagogue.
Pungent aroma from hot sizzling meat;
a whiff of petrol coming from the street.
The napkin soft, bread roll toasty, warm,
dinner plate hot, wine glass suitably chilled
all precisely the acceptable norm.
Granular grating as pepper is milled.
I press on the steak; it's perfectly grilled.
Fantastic flavors burst upon my buds
juicy, velvety, succulent, tender.
The wine my mouth with fruity perfume floods
I finish the last drop, then surrender
"I require another glass, bartender."
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