Kebab Poems | Examples

Bi-location

Was it those onions earlier? Clashing with the fish?
I sense some bi? location things are not as one might wish!
The trifle and?? Oh the truffles ' my it was a loaded dish
I sense in my stomach a bi-location' things are not as one Might wish.' Theres a grumble in the engine room a
Pulsing in my throat, a real sense of bi-location did that
Kebab contain goat?? Oh..Im heading to the bathroom
Its where i want to be, if i can make it up the staircase?
Oh woe; is poor old me.' In a step of bi-location i'm taking
Steps in twos.'  If i get up to the toilet? There will be some
Bile-location, before I flush my system through.'

Hungry Zengo

Hungry Zengo
Zengo is the star from Canada. He emigrated to Russia and drank Neo Soviet vodka dry. Then he went to Pakistan and India to eat kebab, samosa, japati, onion bargi, curry and chips with gravy. Next stop was China where he ate turtle rice, causing a famine. Zengo never passed a stool, he sat on chairs. His constipation took him to OOHH EESS AAYY! Here he ate at McDonalds. Cos it's crap, he blew it up. Then Zengo went for a . He used every bit of bog roll up in the land of the free. Now he's off to Nippon to eat twelve Japanese gangsters, minus little fingers. Then where?

Beer

For Fifty years i been sittin 'ere 
 I Love this pub and I love me beer
 I've tried em all, the Guinness, the Stout
 but, this one drink I can't go without.

I must admit though, once i've sunk a few.
 I'm up and down to the bloody loo.
 One pint in, two bloody pints out. up 'n' down all bleedin night.
 I've got my own spot in the poxy trough ( I stand in the corner to the right).

Now, 'Er Indoors, She bends me ear.
 About how many nights a week i'm here.
 but, it's the only place I can get some peace,
 and  not to mention the fruit machine that I can fleece.

I aint worried about me dinner, No.
 Cos she's burnt me food, so kebab shop, that's where i'll go.
 But, not before the last bell's rung
 and my final pint is drunk and gone.

I Stagger home, slightly worse for wear.
 I WON'T be sick. (besides it' would be rude to share).
 This final walk, it's made me think.
 I Can't wait for tomorrow for another drink

Twinkle Twinkle

Twinkle twinkle little star
guides me home from the bar,
I'm to drunk to drive my car
and being drunk the walk not far.

I would of got a cab
but I stopped for a kebab,
I'm fat and I've got flab
I need alcoholic rehab.

But in a minute I'll reach my flat,
and I'll have fell when I tried to sat,
I lost my coat and I've lost my hat,
and I swear I just saw Postman Pat.

Twinkle Twinkle little star
guiding me from the bar,
I don't know where I parked my car,
and I don't know why I'm wearing a bra.

The Hangover of 1985

Like two rusty hinges my eyelids creaked open,
the pale morning light seared my eyes,
the banging I heard was the sound of my heart
and the gurgling, my stomach's hushed cries.
I knew it would prove as I started to move
every motion would be one big mistake
and my brain and my mind (which was lagging behind)
were both wishing I wasn't awake.
Keeping my head quite level, I rose from the bed
balancing with my arms open wide,
to stop what felt like a hot cast iron ball
in my head banging from side to side.
Tongue was dry, throat was thick
and now feeling quite sick,
slowly bent for my slippers, to find
one had hid on its own under a Traffic cone
and the other had kebab inside.
Made it out to the bathroom and slumped by the sink,
the mirror held my other me,
ten rounds with Mike Tyson, face green, and I think
who on earth could that possibly be?
The phone started nagging, my shoulders were sagging,
I stumbled back out of the shower,
my mate asked where I was, since he's down at the pub-
I said I'd be there in an hour.

I Want To Be a Vegan

I want to be a vegan
I want to give up meat
I want hemp DM's to wear upon my feet
No more burgers, sausages and no more lamb kebab
No more chicken drumsticks gotta fight the flab
Mushroom for me now, mushroom instead of steak
Instead of meat pie I'm gonna have a cake
A vegan cake mind, without milk or eggs
I won't be buying my cake from Cooplands or Gregg's
I think I might still do a little bit of fish
But I'll avoid putting offal on my dish

I want to be a vegan
I want to give up meat
I want to revolutionise the food that I eat
Fruit and veg is better for you than eating a cow
Sausage made from Quorn is healthier than a sow
let the little lamb live a much fuller life
Instead of carving it up young with a carving knife
I feel for the bird, I feel for the chicken
The way it's kept in cages, leaves me quite sicken
You get all the good stuff from nuts, berries and different types of seeds
You can even find it in flowers, nettles and other random weeds
I want to be a vegan I want to give up meat
Stop the polluting cattle grazing and grow more wheat!

Rudolph's Stuck In Traffic

I'm Rudolph stuck in traffic, and on this of all the nights,
and up to now my nose has matched each set of traffic lights,
the fat guy in the back keeps bridling at our progress slow,
why I get saddled with him each year, I harnessly don't know.
When other Reindeer used to help, back then boy, we could fly
but they've been made redundant since their running costs were high.
Dasher's now a quarterback for Minnesota Vikings,
and Dancer's in a chorus line, it's much more to her liking.
Prancer's found a new life with the Spanish riding school
and Vixen works the shopping Malls, which I think is pretty cool.
Cupid isn't stupid he went for early retirement
and Comet just lives off the land, Lichen his sole requirement.
Donner runs a kebab shop, he's doing pretty well
and Blitzen helped but left because he couldn't stand the smell.
So here I am, life can be cruel, it never reins it pours,
stuck in a line of SUVs instead of home indoors,
and Santa's whining at the fact I cannot be cold started,
and that is why I warmed him up, I clenched my cheeks and farted.


(All spelling intentional)
For contest 'Christmas Rhymes', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
November 27th 2017

Coming Home

COMING   HOME

I came home at last across the seas 
To my home country in South Dublin,
And stood soaking up the refreshing Irish mist,
Allowing the Manchester smoke to wash out of my lungs.

O’ Connell Street  was busy as usual,  
And the familiar glottal stops of Arabic drifted 
Out from a traditional kebab take away,
In its doorway  a tin whistle player and his hat of coins.

I watched the policewomen adjusting their hejabs 
And  very politely controlling the football crowd  -
Stragglers from Croke Park, 
Heading for Guinness and kebabs for supper.

The Combustion of Clapping Custard Covers Carpets

A fragrant vagrant isn't a bad thing it is wise to fill a dolly bag with silver coins. Drooping dressing doopy doggy draperies draped. Cabal cable carnage. How not so idyllic. And a two ton carriage of bees could never really do the twisting dance at a disco. Such is the heavyweight marathon. Stomp swim. Stomp stamp. Wow. Naivety varies amongst tidally adjusted soldier fauna. And be very wary of verification in a smoking tent. Tuna bubbles in a sandstone kebab. The all knowing grape warbles a systematic song of carbon brushes. Oh how the cushion swings with delight. An opposite apothecary of courteous van's. Archaically archived histories are unjustified in tones but mutational racks of fleas can form fresh ground and a format is neither a rock or a deity so therefore skip over fifty nine petals with agility. Erotically placed erosion of a salad dish with slippery large leaf legs. Hahahaha. Dreamy dandelions dangling doves. Clapping custard covering carpets. Xxxx combustion xxxx hahah xxxx

A Camberwell Adventurer

The whirling Dervish leaves fell…
Clouds of reindeer from the kebab 
House as well, in deepest down town 
Camberwell …a Turkish Christmas 
…he announced
“Come and hunt wolves in the Caspian 
Mountains with my uncle” he said….
I declined …keen to protect the wolves
And my reputation as a liberal 

Damn...what a fool I was:

Gut Gripes

Gut Gripes
There is a man who eats hand grenades.
They go Kaboom! in his big fat belly.
You ask why does he eat them?

He's got a slight indigestion problem.
A trip to the doctors gave no joy.
As did anti acid tablets.
Changing his diet helped for a while.
But his stomach gripes returned twice as bad.

Then he remembered the box of grenades.
They belonged to his granddad.
He had nothing to lose.

So he pulled the pin and off popped off the spoon.
With a grin he swallowed the live grenade.
He stomach moaned before the bomb went boom.
It was like a whale being kicked in the balls.
His guts gave a mighty heave and he did a double back flip.

Then landed on floor and grinned before passing out.
When he came too he felt a little bit better.
For good measure he ate another grenade. 

It was just like before but it cured his indigestion.
Now it's time for a curry and spicy kebab.
Then twenty pints of beer.
Just like the old days when anything went.
Eat what you want with no damn problems.

If his guts act up it's time for a grenade!

Booze Squad

Booze Squad
Tonight should have taken place in July, my birthday night out. 
A dozen weekly tattoos stopped that. 
It was a frosty December evening when we went to a few pubs for a beer.
Frozen ground echoed our footfalls, 
ice threatened to trip us and cold gnawed our extremities.
There was nothing like that first beer in the pub 
where a real coal fire was burning like a meteor.
Not been in that pub since I was married,
fifteen years ago.
Seven more pubs followed, 
a collage of different beers, 
chasing a lovely married brunette round the pub after she stole my cap,
kissing a tattooed gal and saying when are we going out?
Other blurry images:
meeting an old mate and talking about swinging and fetish clubs,
taking a book about Goethe and a hundred year old dictionary from a pub library,
pursuing unsuitable women whose partners hovered close by and finally, 
chicken kebab and chips in the curry house.
More beer would have flowed but my cash went kaput.
Bring on the next session, it’ll be ten pints!

Kebab Grab

Aadab the Aarab's
Favourite food was kebabs,
Be it beef, be it chicken,
He thought they were finger lickin'
With hummus and garlic dabs


authors note: i know Adab & Arab
 are spelled with one
 ...a.....at the start but i put in
 the extra ....a.....for pronunciation
 of a long.....a.....sound

Nobody Knows

(Dedication: For Robin Williams, RIP)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Feelings collide
Fatal attraction;
Odd triangle


Fiery heart
Burning fires;
So much pain


Grief beyond words
Barbecue burns;
Heart roasted kebab


Pieces of flesh
Raw nerves torment;
Jagged heartbreak


Pain beyond flesh
Psychic suffering;
Depression strings


What is not heard
How cannot state;
Nobody knows


Bad situation
Suicidal mood swings;
Inevitable end


No one can help
When things turn ugly;
Death and debris


Circle around
Mire in frozen ground;
Lost yet unsound 


Sad beyond repair
Depression most real;
Deeper and deeper


Now who can help 
You help yourself?
Nobody knows


Ending looms
In certain doom;
Despair dons death




Leon Enriquez
22 August 2014
Singapore

People Watching

It’s a Saturday night; all the lads are on the beer
Posing in their best clothes – look out ladies we are here
They swiftly down a pint then another three or four
Soon they are getting wobbly and falling to the floor

They stumble to the disco cos they are on the pull
Eying up the ladies, but their chat up lines are dull
The music is so loud you can’t hear a word they say
One thinks he’s hit the jackpot and he may get a lay

Now on ‘whiskey chasers’ getting egged on by their mates
Getting pretty paralytic – will anyone get dates
The girls aren’t impressed and tell them to go away
The lads will have to seek their date another day

They all stumble to the door and head for a greasy kebab
Desperately trying not to vomit when they are in the taxi cab
Home now at last to rest their throbbing aching head
Thank goodness its now Sunday they can spend all day in bed.

Jan Allison
8th April 2014

Went out to watch some live music a few weeks back .....
people watching – what a fascinating pastime!

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