hurled hoagie explodes
ICE’s meaty Molotiv —>
Bansky’s graffiti
Ratatouille’s Remy
Chef hat
on rat
Mighty Mouse
Small mouse
moves house
Tigger
He knew
the Pooh
Porky Pig
Utters
stutters
Yogi Bear’s Snack
Yogi
Hoagie
Bugs
Funny
bunny
Miss Piggy
This hog
loves frog
Kermit of Sesame Street
This frog
hates bog
Goofy’s Reformation
Hound fool
found school
Garfield
One fat
sarcast!
A collection of eaters
sharp glints on dull knives.
Silver forking service
dunking bread permanently cancelled.
I do not like
a hot-mike talking dinner.
I do not like the tinkle and clatter
of plates and dentures.
I want to eat a hoagie in a dark closet.
Slurp my gravy on a lapping tongue.
Gustation and gab
the flap of white lining and napkins
no, I do not like it.
Spoon my soup
through a letterbox,
let me finger my food
in a gut gulping gestation
far from the marinara
the red stained drip of dipping neckties.
Give me a take away,
give me gobble space
some bones to stew upon,
but most importantly –
long before the crème brulee
let me eat
ALONE.
3 Cups of sliced portabella mushrooms
3 Cups of sliced Onions
2 Cups of Sliced Red Peppers
1/2 cup of sliced Garlic
1/4 cup of worishire sauce
1/3 cup of crumbed cooked bacon
1/4 brownsugar
2 cups of Mambo sauce
% cups of Philly Style CheeseSteak
Sautee veggies, brown meat
mix sauce and brownsugar
Mix together and cover
allow to stand in a oven on 250 heat for
2 hours.
Serve on toasted hoagie bread and cheese
with fries and kethup!
She tryna get me to ask her for a date or sumthang!
With Apologies To Jerry Blavat
It isn’t the statue of Rocky,
Or that bell with the noteworthy crack.
It’s not the fraternal affection,
Or the bird crap on Billy Penn’s hat.
It isn’t a cheese steak wid onions,
Or a hoagie from Terminal Market.
It’s not a soft pretzel with mustard,
Or a Tastykake dropped on the carpet.
It’s that head shop on South Street;
The one where all the hippies meet,
Where the dancing is elite.
It’s the hippest street in town.
Oh, baby!
Inhale the aroma. Savor the nectar.
It’s less like a Domino, and more like a Checker.
For five days we have been worker bees
Now it is time for those tees
Whether it is fighting off a golfing bogie
Or wiping your hands from a lunch time hoagie
Finally the weekend is here
And adventure is near
Going out entertaining the mates
Finding friends and romantic dates
For a short period of time
And recreation on the mind
Worker bees turned into social bugs
Giving companions fashionable hugs
Interaction with others
And chance meetings that could breed into lovers
Taking a two day holiday where one can reflect and relax
Ignoring what is being transmitted at the office fax
It is the proper time to make the pass
When encountering a potential lifelong lad or lass
Enjoy the time off
Not having any guilt feelings of fault
Being in the corporate life
Needing to be giving the green light
Hoping the check clears
To shop Wal-Mart then on to Sears
During this time we sit down finding peace and cheer
Since the weekend is finally here
The genuisness exited
Leave it cuz
Numbers don't add
Due to no money
Joshing you
Judges raise the roof
Two Sams are kinged not knighted
Our chronicles erased
Nah me high
East of here is the job
Palms are crossed
Always liked verbs
Eccles cakes are tasted
The solo man sings
I say aaaaah
Germs of my laments
Easy Kel
Dan as a joke hoses Ella
Almost done
Oh my bad ha
Ya know he is makin a mistake
Nah i'm hungry
Have a look in the kitchen
Zip nada
Hoagie in the mech chariot
Me i am the guy that lies
pizzas and hoagies were my Friday treats
when I was going to Holy Child School
those treats made me healthy walking the streets
back then I was strong in faith not a fool
unfortunately it was long a go
and Holy Child School is not there today
for pizza and hoagie I won’t say no
after those lunches I wanted to stay
even those white box lunches weren’t that good
except that special day was lobster tail
those box lunches were watches I have stood
since those Friday lunches I never fail
God bless you Sister Rene helped me out
back when I was just a little wee sprout
Those are not the scent of roses in the breeze.
It is more like the smell of aged provolone cheese.
It wavers along with some olive oil and oregano.
Those are some scents I already know.
Who is lurking nearby do I suppose?
It is none other than my dear Hoagie-nose!
She is a woman I can’t possibly forget.
Everywhere she follows me this Italian coquette.
This ragazza has a kiss as sweet as anisette.
This little woman always accommodates a man.
That’s why she drives around in a mini van.
She makes sure the fellow is nice and comfy
in the back of her Chrysler Town and Country.
There was a valuable lesson I would learn.
The flames of passion gave me a third-degree burn.
We crossed the Rubicon to the point of no return.
My Hoagie-nose and I will tie the knot in June.
We will be joining forces around the rise of the full moon.
Yes, this little Italian doll is the one I must choose.
Her daddy made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
For those of you who are not Italian, it’s pronounced “gitta-GEEN”
It is consumed by Genovese, Sicilians, and Florentine.
You can find it in just about any Italian deli.
This spicy lunch meat was invented in Italy.
In Philadelphia, many use it to make a hoagie.
It can be found in Italian subs in LA.
It is used in Italian heroes in New York any day.
From what part of the pig is it made, do you suppose?
To be honest with you, it comes from the pig’s nose.
Steak
fried onions
Hold the cheese.
On an oddly warm night
I was strolling down locust street
on my way to buy a hoagie.
When turning a corner
I bumped into god.
I knew it was him
with absolute certainty.
Overjoyed I grabbed his hand
and shook it vigorously.
What an honor
what a treat!
to be with god himself,
I hoped he'd never leave.
And leave he did not
he stayed and stayed,
he treated me to his presence
and we walked on to the park.
Not even 5 minutes had passed,
since our meeting
when I spotted something shiny,
and I raced off to see
what I could possess,
or what names
could possess me.
God was left alone,
he chuckled and waved goodbye,
He continued walking
in the direction he always walks.
Neil Schaaf
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