Craven cupidity, contemptible crow
Your talking is squawking as black as your soul
If birds of a feather would gather your hem
A collection of seamstresses darker than them
Would weave from hole cloth a pattern of lies
From a harvest of calumny dark'ning the skies
Who rates this performance, whose benefit there
With bait this enormous just fit for a bear
Who else in the forest could relish this feast
Galumphing, triumphing, it must be a beast
Wallowing, swallowing, swampy at best
Content to recline there and dine on the rest
Immobile as a trophy, stuffed for display
On future repast, blackened feather filet
Blow hard and bellow with yellowing cries
Gather like fellows who feast on these lies
If chapels had been churches, your cathedral would loom
'stead of gathering shadows in this canyon of gloom
With your bins full of blight and your gather of smut
We hasten to bid you not good night but... what?
We wonder still under quick'ning despair
In search of escape, it must be here but... where?
There must be some light lest this darkness o'erwhelm
We must brave the night til the Good take the helm
Have it
At room
Temperature
Before cooking.
No marinade.
Just coarse salt
And pepper.
Hot heavy pan
Medium to high heat.
Flip when seared.
Dark brown.
Lower heat.
Lotsa butter,
Mushrooms,
Chopped shallots,
Drops of
Lee and Perrins.
Squirt of lemon &
Dash of parsley
At the end.
Have a warm plate.
Drop it all from the pan.
Keep plate
On low warm.
Let it sit for 20min.
Tenderloin is delicate.
You were sharp|ning grass
With your eyes | sit & fixed
Again | a substitute for mow|n
Machine chug|ging along lug
Nuts, molar friction | u - r - n .
Lawn stretches of up|beat
Beach | was there even wind?
Filet a cannonade me | see
The crayons fly | in a circle
A head | towards blu|er | stretches
There | where clouds resemble.
Light is a commodity, scream!
Silly | man | omnibus no teacher
Not even a man. Well still: Lorine
Niedecker e|merges like new
Breath, pulp come together
Mis|hearing cranes, a making
Multicolor wax, bending fuse
Forge |X| fissure for left foot |
Right foot,—we'll find a job a kind
Of game | it’s just planes turned
Paper crane | creosote guardians
A dead lean-to shouldering volts.
Looking for something to brighten my day
Want to run off and play
Preferably free but willing to pay
Something to take me away
Want to feel happy and gay
Maybe have some tea at the local café
Attend an event that is underway
Some candy and a flower bouquet
Eat my full at a delicious buffet
Somewhere quiet I can lay
Go for a ride on a sleigh
Dance with the cabaret
Maybe enjoy a souffle
With a juicy filet
Play some croquet
Shout out hooray
Laugh like a clown
Enjoy every sound
Joy to be found
Playing in the crowd
Shouting out loud
Happy and proud
Standing my ground
Doing things unallowed
Back to work I will go
My day moving slow
Feeling a need to grow
Thinking of good times from long ago
~ A Little Post-Election Humor Never Hurts ~
Old McDonald’s had a roadside stand
“Make America Eat Junk-Food Again”
And at that roadside stand was RFK
eating processed food, Ole!
Old McDonald’s had a kiosk too
“Make America Throw Up Again”
And at that kiosk was DJT, version two
With Elon Musk, his 'new best friend’ ...
Now Old McDonald’s has a new lease on life
Just don’t expect to see Melania there, Trump’s wife
But – and this may surprise the ‘H’ out of you
I hear Barron’s got a hankerin’ for Mickey D’s mouth-watering
~ ‘filet of horse stew’
Bacchus confronts us in a shady place, A tangled grove, and he, astride a cask. Gross limbs and belly, small besotted face, And lips pursed to the uptilted flask. A buxom dryad, white against his tan, Attends him (sturdy spirit o' the trees) ; As free a woman she as he a man, But gracious-limbed enough to please. Sportive, she smoothes his unambrosial hair, And binds a ruddy vine about his brows; A filet fit for marry-makers, where the wild and tendrilled berry grows. But stay, dryad, what need hath Bacchus' head of leafy trimmings ? Twist a leaf or two and wreathe his hardy nudity instead~ Garland him largely, Dryad, do !
Driving down the danger zone my destiny dies in a dead end street
Dragging dilapidated deliveries doing the Damn Demons divine deed
Distance deceives my demented disguise the dumb things I don't do
Decisions divide deep, deep inside the Devil's debt is way past due
The Mark of Madness melts away most of my meager mental mind
Masqueraded as this monster man, malicious, morbid eyes made blind
Minced meat is the aftermath of millions of marching, marching men
Mutilated in mislead miles of the massacre's modern mazes again
Frightened and forged in fear from fought fires that forever flare
Feelings flip in the floppiness as a filet fish feels in fresh air
First forget as focus fled floating fails falling to land face first
Faster the flow you freeze now froze finally your face finds free dirt
bmdavey@09/19/2024
Toasted teacakes,parmesan cheese
Croquetted chicken,fricasees;
Apple dumplings,yogurt creamed
Welsh mutton,in pudding,steamed.
Baked Alaska,Banbury cake
Lyons ices with Cadbury flake;
Gorganzola buttered roll
Side salad oil drizzled,in a bowl.
Melba meringue,warm mince pies
Filet mignon,mushrooms and fries;
Sunday roast in dripping jelly
Onions and peppered tripe belly.
Trout poached,not microwaved
Slowly cooked,and no time saved;
Thick fishstock,bouillabaissed
Beefsteak so lightly braised.
Hash browns,sausage,gravy and mash
Casseroled stew or goulash;
Poached,simmered maybe pressure cooked
Tempting meals from Granma's book.
The catfish are all biting, while avoiding the lure.
They cruise along the floor, seeking only their cure.
Slowly they move to gather, in position to consume.
When they quickly strike their prey, then leave the room.
On land, they are deceptive, towards others in the game.
While in water, they're beneath most, avoiding the fame.
Here they seem content, swimming along the silt and muck.
Devouring the bottom dead, as they feed to finally suck.
Yet they occasionally make mistakes, & find an irresistible hook.
Becoming another's catch, cleaned to filet, before they cook.
With factories and private jets, the elite
produces 100, 000 times more carbon
than you or I. (It has gone up to .04 from .03 ppm.
Yet, we are the ones lectured in scare, tactic.
Tell me something. Do you see the Davosites
eating bugs and car-pooling?
Do you see them eating filet mignon and travelling
in a style harmful to the Planet?
Extravagance is not conservation.
It is the opposite.
They are enslaving you with pretty notions
and hypocrisy.
"Israel will be compassed about with armies"
...Iran, Turkey, Sudan, Russia, Lebanon, Syria...
Psalms 83, Ezekial 38.
"Wonder what is on tv tonight?"
(and you haven't even flipped through the Bible
to see if it was prophesied)C
(I know it's not as riveting as a cookoff or American Idols.)
One third of the population will perish from their coming war and deeds. That is 2.6 BILLION WITH A "B"
AL...
Still living 'bove ground
inside a box, outskirts of town
Begged every day, helped him pay
for coffee, a smoke, a tin of ‘spam filet’
Gave him two quarters every time I drove by
Thought of myself as a ‘generous guy’
Other drivers zoomed past him hand closed
though many were poverty-opposed
Today, I noticed his face seemed drawn
I pulled over, said ‘Get in; What’s going on?’
He tried to talk, words struck in his throat
Instead he spit blood on his old shabby coat
Drove up to the nearest ER
Got him into admissions
When I understood, he’s a public charge
To say 'Sorry' ~ I turned toward a stiff
in the rigor mortis position
I dont know what’s with this feline,
But I wish that she were really mine.
I think she’s the cat of my fun .dreams.
She and I would make quite the team!
We could go on “Cat Dancing with the Stars”
Bring home the huge trophy,in my jalopy of a car.
I’d make her a filet of salmon in a crystal dish.
And reward myself with sherbet, it is so delish.
Two swinging champions we and so full of soul..
Tomorrow night, we will snack on raspberry jelly-rolls!
There's nothing better than a steak,
Providing it's spiced with care.
Whether ribeye, filet, or strip,
Just make mine medium rare.
Then you have your feathered friends,
Either turkey, duck or chicken.
You can bake or crispy fry,
The Colonel says it's finger lickin'.
And don't forget about the swine,
Barbequed chops, loins, or ribs.
If you slather it with sauce,
You should always wear your bibs.
So meat me in St. Louis,
If you have some time to kill.
You best believe before you leave,
You're sure to get your fill.
Toasted teacakes,parmesan cheese
Croquetted chicken,fricasees;
Apple dumplings,yogurt creamed
Welsh mutton,in pudding,steamed.
Baked Alaska,Banbury cake
Lyons ices with Cadbury flake;
Gorganzola buttered roll
Side salad oil drizzled,in a bowl.
Melba meringue,warm mince pies
Filet mignon,mushrooms and fries;
Sunday roast in dripping jelly
Onions and peppered tripe belly.
Trout poached,not microwaved
Slowly cooked,and no time saved;
Thick fishstock,bouillabaissed
Beefsteak so lightly braised.
Hash browns,sausage,gravy and mash
Casseroled stew or goulash;
Poached,simmered maybe pressure cooked
Tempting meals from Granma's book.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2008
Her birthday.
She awoke before her husband, who was the early riser
she was 80 yrs. old it was her birthday and preparing
a great lunch of filet steak with baked potatoes and salat
A lot of food, her husband said, yes, she lied, I have made
food for several days, and can’t cook every day.
She carried the phone in her apron pocket, but it didn’t ring.
After a long delay, she decided it was time for luncheon
Lovely food; she had even opened up a bottle of wine.
No, she wasn’t hungry; her husband knew why and waited,
she cried.
No one had remembered her birthday; he knew why but
cleared the table, cleaned the dishes and packed the food
away for another day
He couldn’t tell her when one gets to be eighty, the living
relatives are so much younger, the distance between the
aged and the younger people is like a vast ocean of years
it is easy to forget.
When he was 84, no one rang, he didn’t expect any calls
but for him, being cynical about this matter, he didn’t care
about this, but he felt deeply sorry for his wife.
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