empty sounds over
bacon sizzling in fryer....
grocery list ~ add salt
(Goldilocks)
One bear - two bears- baby makes three,
Mommy making hot berry tea and brie.
Soup is way too hot,
No sleep on a soft cot.
New home and not needing to flee.
(Little Red Riding hood)
Mommy gave me good advice,
maybe I should have listened twice.
A wolf I did find,
lost my love and mind
Now pregnant paying the price.
(The Three Little Pigs)
We are three of a family kind,
except one got caught in the wind.
One got caught by the fire,
he was in a house fryer.
Wanting new homes space aged designed.
The fresh woft of roast ham
Although they will accept lamb
A beep of the air fryer
Their bellies full of desire
They would destroy this juicy meat
And see it as a sweet treat
Flowing throughout the house
The scent of freshly roasted honey hit their wet snouts
The excitement palpable, barks and shouts
The tension rises as it cools
Tails wag as they work out how to manipulate those fools
Eyes staring, not leaving their prize
The whimpers and the cries
All 3 ready to pounce
In their eyes no doubt
3 sets of eyes gazing into each moist slice
Only ham will suffice
All laid down, paws stretched
Drool flowing waiting for the slice of perfect
Their eyes never leaving me
Begging and pleading
Tongue licking their lips
As more drool drips
Finally their slice arrives at their mouth
2 seconds before it’s gone
My daddy used to fry up doughnuts in a fryer when we were kids
Not every night, but once a month on Sundays
We kids got to cut the middles out of the donuts our mom started.
Dough was everywhere; we got to shake sugar on them in a sack.
I can still taste those homemade donuts, hot from that sack.
My hands loved the gritty sugar; I licked it off my fingers.
I thought everybody’s daddy fried doughnuts once a month.
I think I was twenty when I knew better.
My parents never ate in a restaurant or frequented a bakery.
I did not know about sprinkled, jelly, or glazed doughnuts.
Until I grew up and then I was horrified by the cost of them.
The first time I ate a doughnut with pudding I fell in love.
Damn it the planet’s on fire
Concerning..right down to the wire
Burning on its funeral pyre spire
I’m for turning.. where’s the messiah?
A heavenly choir…so we can aspire
That learning will finally inspire
An endless yearning desire
Of spurning this friendless quagmire
Discerning things are rather dire
Churning of the palaver and ire
Mother nature does surely tire
Should be the crier & trier
Of another returning frequent flyer
Corporate pariah..or so called high flier
Deranged global warming denier
You can tell its hotter...getting dryer
The climate’s changed.. you liar
Mining anything shining..find a buyer
All about earning..will just retire
With their bounty…a comfy county squire
Or dicey fiscal rascal friar
Got devious egregious previous & prior
Pampered dining on pricey lobster & samphire
Us out of luck..stuck in the muck & mire
Tampered temperatures soaring higher
But no ruck ..chuck the entire earth in the fryer
They’ve scampered…we’re hampered in the briar
Does appall …no truck with their gall…yet remain a complier
Insane what they pluck.. yet we all still call them “Sire”
Compare my motorbike and air-fryer
Because at times they both can be quite cold.
So, when they are their buttons I will push
To turn them on, my touch must not withhold.
I'll warm them up until their engines roar,
And they will then be ready to excite.
Both giving me exactly what I want
A long hard ride, then a fat free delight.
I can't believe how similar they are
My motor bike and air- fryer I love.
Both meet my needs that I can't do without
For this I am so sure, and have no doubt.
chill to take my breath away
the tailpipe streamers
this day trip must take place
a cozy talk
heater on sun-strength
Dad bundled up
dust, sweep, mop
clean and sanitize
drop and talk
olives stabbed
martini sipped
Dad dips
his glass
to Mom’s ashes
preheat air fryer
flipping burgers
preheat oven
turning frozen fries
drop and talk
my Dad’s alive
this day trip must end
with tailpipe streamers
wall to wall traffic
and a warm smile
and a hand
as my husband
helps me unload
drop and talk
after I text
my Dad
and he
texts back a red heart
and tells me
he loves me
Written By: D. Collins 2/1/25
Like thick sliced bacon straight from the air fryer.
Today my daughter is Queen of her empire.
Her subjects will do whatever she wants done.
And on her birthday served with total Cart Blanche.
Like the crispy, fried bacon left on our tongue.
She's a woman that stands second to none.
Yeah, a father is biased when it comes to his.
But, today is the day she was born to live.
The opportunity sparked a fierce desire
A cunning liar is trying to conspire
Plotting schemes that would require
Causing the masses tears to flood the mire
The choir sang with voices higher
Looking for a bold lady or noble squire
Capable of mending our old attire
Bake these words in an air fryer
The hissing revealed a situation growing dire
Look a devious flyer is soaring above the spire
Falsely proclaiming tales to inspire
Hiding in the quagmire as an actual occupier
Their words thickening the air like a humidifier
The supplier is attempting rewire
All of us who dare to still inquire
An amplifier’s hum drew the self-proclaimed sire
Who foolishly gazed at stars with his heart’s desire
Each promise made proved to be a modifier
The identifier called it out as a testifier
Through it all the proclamations became slier
We need to rise above the snake oil salesmen’s ire
Buckle up and find the strength not to retire
Find the heart to not back down or tire
Kid naps here, daycare!
Sick babies...About those
Kidnaps are there! Out there!
I wish I could, evocation, dowry!
For an already invested $275 nuptial Tyler Mowrey!
Gaza wall and Tel-Aviv- a , embracing in Jackson Church
Sameeha Azra- eel A and a PEER in peer pressure for air fryer
Is your oxygen an EIN? Bargaining overseas? Playing diplomacy? Daunts in ranting ramps where models stood?
Sometimes, data cable is not that a bad idea, where "inna lillah" is also a cliched Hinda call!
Long she served Holly Wood, May she come true among converts and traveler (pilgrims)
further in optimism in selfless "Sufism" not "Sophism or Hedonism",
Sin and Boon are all stamped with the sense of Shame, where the guilt is sensed after all!
Not a river dredging and to make a parable to river shifting, as no longer helpful!
Helpful and no longer! For once, try in Pickthall!
For the end of the time and the beginning, too
Time impeccable is Timeless Allah (SWT) and the all-knowing and all!
In time He begets not,
In Time He is free from the need of an obgyn,
of that specialty, departmental.
Choosing a genuine leader
Is a dauntingly difficult task
To constitutionally ask
Uninformed voters
To vote their conscience.
Such a practice defies science
And natural common sense.
That too many followers lack
And where criminals hack
The convoluted system
With a simple leaf
Of a fragile stem.
It is hard to catch the thief
The convicted felon, the liar or the backstabber
Who lies like a hot fryer.
It not easy to choose a leader
Who can only win the pot, but
Can lead, without being the butt
Of all hard-working comedians.
Do not shoot the native Indians
They have nothing to do with this turmoil
Which is ravaging the nature of this soil.
Do not kill the good aliens
For no reasons, for excuses
Nobody will believe the ruses.
A real leader is not a tyrant
Who can only talk rubbish or rant.
Choosing a great leader is not easy
The voters must not be delusional and crazy
Money can buy privilege and power
But it cannot buy greatness and candor.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor
Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay
The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin.
Carp
A Carp in the fryer,
is worth far more than,
all the trout in a lake.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Iran is playing with fire
If Israel gets hot ~
Tehran will burn in her fryer
Inside an archaic framework
she fetches a pail from the fields,
the bucket on her hip is full of
broken eagles.
Wind turbines churn in the distance.
He takes the mangled birds
plucks them,
puts their heads on poles
loads them onto a flatbed.
His dour darling fixes fixings
with a rusting air-fryer;
plaits her hair with chicken wire.
Drones mourn like doves in the evening.
Rattling pods spread
their dry seeds over abandoned crops.
Bald feathers flap on
a black-booted scarecrow.
A morbid factotum arrives
deposits clods of earth
from out the back of
of a fly-specked hearse.
Horse heads turn
on a squeaking wind vane.
Inside a slow burning barn
Unstrung fiddles lay at rest
in their open coffins.
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