FOOD FIGHT
YEAH! Yum I am sittin at the dining room table;
Smelling all them aromas of mom's Christmas coarses;
Moving hands arms and mouths of all the children voices;
Fidgeting, shirring wanting to pass over dinner
let's eat the coconut pie from Aunt Mable;
And Oh! yeah yum I can still picture that mill;
On table waz meets turkees, hams, wit' right and brown gravy's;
Warmth smell breads all types there waz hole wheat, white,
also waz sum hot butter-korn bread;
A side diss of jellies and jambs;
And real fo real butter
Vegetable's
Galore
Hole Cornel Korn, Pees, beats, karats,
salads sprinkle with salt N pepper and time;
And after all this, no fish;
Wit all this,
waz left, but dessert yum we eight homemaid kakes with flower,
yeah, and yum even had sum suite potato pi;
All this good Flavers Sights;
And yumming invites;
Kin folk babies whine;
All these foods in sight;
Man this ate write;
Ahh! stomach eights, eight to much Oooh!!!
Must be sum food fight;
For Contest: FOOD FIGHT
Sponsored by: Viv Wigley
A year
in which
each day
brings one
tenth inch.
First the
window sills
are covered
then door
jambs. Our
lips are
sealed then
our eyes
shut. Sleep
like this
we've never
known. Will
Spring return?
Unknown. We
care not.
My girlfriend climbs on one knee and en-
jambs me; ecstasy. Her elation
is so, so delicious;
so very capricious;
poetic female domination.
*Enjambement is French: straddle, bestride. It's also a poetry term.
Dustbowl sentiments profusely bleed the cherry fossil eyes
Into cataracts of scarlet, fused with empty alibis,
Spitting feathers from the lips quivered cancerous with pain,
Clouded visions of your body, yet forever they remain.
Walking out upon a limb hanging fractious and split,
Drinking absinthe and malt whiskey with a ghost immersed in it,
Drawing breath so that the vocals will at least affect a sound,
Breathing out and breathing in, fixed intently on the ground.
Staring straight into your eyes along the fibre optic line,
Sick and tired, the crippled casting of my pearls before your swine,
In the dark, my mind tilts lonely, lying foetus-like and curled,
Knowing once you must have loved me is the ending of the world.
Kicking door jambs into brickwork and then shouting out the odds
Raging famished with a hunger, with the wrath of ancient gods;
It is over, so I died of it, I rise again, anew
"Now I'm simply thrilled, honey, can I say the same for you?"
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