Long Consumption Poems
Long Consumption Poems. Below are the most popular long Consumption by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consumption poems by poem length and keyword.
Every morning I cup my hands together
Not pointed up to heaven
But in the opposite direction of sincerity
Martha pours hot scalding coffee into them
Into the valley I created made of flesh and blood
I pray for our protection as the liquid flows
Trembling, it is too much for me to hold
Hands weren't meant for drinking from
Are not a proper receptacle for fluids
She screams holly hell when it falls
Calls me incompetent and lazy
A misuser of liquids and beverages, a fluid loser
The floor is no place to have your morning drink
A proper cup of coffee in a copper cup would do
I think
Authors note: Please exercise extreme caution when ever handling hot beverages. Example: hot coffee. Never use your hands. Utilize a receptacle designed for such product consumption. Use a condom or 2 if you desire but it is not suggested for simply drinking coffee.
A State Of Majors and Algebra
From a bridge I lift eyes weary from equation forms
Majors and Algebra instruct
From on high the state loves us
Instinctively feed us what we must know
Keep us in place for hours
Guns on every head…to get ahead
Conclusions always drawn on time
Lines of math carried like conversations to their ends
Fractions fix themselves in front of us
Captured by majors on their heels
Algebra comes undone
Undressed for our consumption
Work, like dreams, goes on forever
Tonight it waits for majors and algebra to merge
Ranks remove me to seclusion
Books fall with rain into retreat
Lives are bulletins with holes
When government controls
Shocked to life with streams of data
Or shot to death in line with reason
Options can be unkind
No one inspects the dark
Perhaps it is not there
No one suspects me
In this my figures lie in wait
To see what moves prove
A state of majors and algebra
Or my escape
What is hungry that
These turnips
Shall be fattened
With bacon. This
Spoke the troll
he gathered turnips
from Onsager s garden.
Breadcrumbs shall
atop this au gratin
With bacon , pumpkin
from Onsager s mystery
Garden He was angry
because Ole Onsager
Put fatback in front
Of the bacon hiding it
from the Scrooges and
Mizzers. But me Jack
the Troll but mi hand
beneath all that fatback
and found this treasure trove
Alas might conage , mild peppers
and rasains with grated cheeses
and meringue make souflee
And with
sugarcured bacon; be
delicious with the greens, I saw!
Turnip greens atop the bulbs
Of earthy goodness.
I remember the from the book
Of Sages, the words of
Meade's and Meanest.
The greens of this frost bit
Place is the garden of the
Mizzers. Only the leaves of
Tender fresh turnips are for
Consumption . My cassorolle
Shall aroma of garlic, onions
and carrots.the crumbled bacon
Shall nearest thee.. the cream and
Roux shall mix with the broth
And these turnips and pumpkins
Shall be loved and adorned.
Not to be looked over by the
Mizzers and Scrooges..
Buzz of human feet,
Crowds swarming the trains;
Sea of faces meet,
Private matters strain.
Downtown trip we take,
Darling and I plow;
Human nature stakes,
Umpteen whys and hows.
We reach City Hall,
Find our way around;
Tour the festive mall,
Bright shoppes anchor grounds.
Caterpillar queues,
Await to transact;
Bored faces review,
Weary wait feeds tact.
The Christmas sale steers,
We jostle for stuff;
Bargains that endear,
Buy more than enough.
Busy feet aspire,
The shopping spree floods;
New wares tempt desires,
Whet the pulse of blood.
We discern our needs,
Separate our wants;
Let discrete thoughts feed,
Get brisk shopping done.
Here we wait in line,
Curious eyes pursue;
Attention defines,
Pry odd avenues.
We pay to exit,
Seek out attractions;
Find meal time retreat,
Wholesome consumption.
Homebound subway train,
Swift and fast and sure;
Feel stamina drain,
Goodie bags secure.
Our downtown tour spells,
Whim and fancy grooms;
Easy moments tell,
Intent fills sure boom.
Leon Enriquez
05 December 2014
Singapore
Another huge turkey was caught
The big pheasant was housed in the vault
For consumption
Not for admiration
I'm neither talking about the wild turkey
Who’s running for President
Nor the one which is a country
Now embroiled
And roiled in turmoil
I am talking about the noisy pheasant
That we all like to fest on the last Thursday
Of November every year, and on New Year’s Day.
I can’t wait to enjoy its thighs and wings
I can’t wait afterwards to make the swings
Squeak and cry, because we all weigh more
Than before: the skinny, the rich and the poor.
Happy Thanksgiving Day everybody
The President already pardoned a gorgeous turkey.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Pink Slime, Pesticides
And chicken thighs bigger than my thighs
And we wonder why there is an increase
in learning disabilities among children today
I say it’s because the process, that the food is processed and grown and raised, is
compromised by demand, money, greed or fame.
I do understand that demand is high
so we have to do somethin’
So to compete, we inject hormones into the very animal or plant that is sold for consumption
So now we eat these hormones and our bodies are stressed because of the added pesticides and herbicides and other sh#! that’s hard to digest
I mean what’s really the cause?
There’s more kids with disabilities today than there ever was
I say it’s because like the story is told in the verses, that knowledge is increasing in man and the result is not what He purposed.
Pink Slime and Pesticides..We’re eating stuff that’s been chemically grown inside…and chickens bigger than my thighs
Enchanted by your wistfully inked charm
I disrobe and unchain my melancholy heart
At last I am prepared to love and love
Your sourcery has cracked my code for a new start
Where darkness lay light is born my sweet soul
The fires you have been cleansed by are pure
I am here awaiting your willful consumption
Flesh ,blood,bone all of me I promise to endure
Centuries have led to this awakening
Books have foretold of unforeseen force of love
History has foretold of poems and stories propel lovers
To bed to death together and floating ethereal above
Come to me my soul this is our time
To wait too long I fear a great loss
Unchained I await your every hunger
Pestilence and sourcery are worth the cost.
Yes, it's all about love,
and a highly proactive form of peace,
about both what's fair,
and what's also kind,
both long-term,
and right now.
It's all about vocation,
and paying the bills,
and enjoying life as production
as well as healthy nutritional consumption.
Most certainly all of those things.
But, organic farmers and permaculture designers,
master gardeners and cooperative developers,
ministers and healers and therapists of all types,
from physical through mental through systemic information network designers,
might use some different language
to define this love and active peace with justice, fairness, kindness,
well-being optimization.
A metasystemically therapeutic,
synergizing,
energizing,
dialectically emergent therapy
enriching,
nutritionally optimizing individual,
couple,
family,
and/or EarthTribe,
grows economic mutually mentoring redeemers,
human natural ecologist cooperatives;
a perma/polycultural balancing
harmonic Beloved Community.
São Paulo is a
long street that
crosses Brazil
with its "trade"
infernal...
Rio is a stage
lit where
the popcorn maker of
corner, it's handle
of samba and the madam
from Barra, she owns
of gafieira in Lapa...
Belo is a farm
modern...but its
horses are mechanics...
There you breathe the air of
in the ancient days...
The Northeast that was once
fiction plays functions, left
to be illusion and mirage
to be a consumption pole...
The north, still lies down
asleep in wonder
of the green... as planes
traffic their saps...and the
Uncle Sam still eludes
the natives...
From the Central Plateau,
or from the green heart
from the homeland will arise a
resounding cry that
will dislodge the Court
castled...
So the South that still
thinks it is Cisplatin
or argentine gaucho
will untie the triple alliance
and it will be truly believed
Brazilian...!
Oh my Brazil...manly...!
Hay Fields
Harvest of ripened fodder yields
In rolls of hay littering the fields.
Golden, dried under the sun,
For livestock winter consumption;
Who still graze in rich fall pastures,
Unaware of summer’s departure,
Fattening on earth’s green grasses,
Basking in the warmth of contentment.
Crops of vegetables: corn and potatoes;
Grains of barley, oats, flax, wheat, and canola.
Combines reaping, threshing, and winnowing
With other machinery, then tilling of the soil.
Where the farmer stands proudly gazing
Upon the harvest yield of their labour.
The fallow land, soon to be covered in snow
Awaits spring planting and growth revival.