Long Yeasty Poems
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38.4154017°, -76.5341214°
A waterwheel, raceway, grinding stones (bedstone and runner stone), gears, shafts, and a hopper for grain, Diet. The crested honey buzzard is a specialist feeder, living mainly on the larvae of social bees and wasps, and eating bits of comb and honey(qilaat)Inuit The People at Funks Pond.Analog-to-digital conversion.absolute event.a combination of shutter speed aperture
that determines the amount of light reaching the camera's sensor. manufactured by Kurtis Kraft in 1949 and 1950.Punganur Made cars and had a Milling Mill on the Creek. in the 1930's they built Sports cars and sold hovercrafts in the 1933 the sold shares of there company to the public. They became famous when the wife woman began infusing honey with vanilla beans:infused honey is made by adding whole Vanilla Beans to our raw and unfiltered honey. It's a perfect balance of sweet and vanilla taste.They shut down the company
and moved all the equipment to an undisclosed place Selling the Motor Company to Frank Muntez
Expenditures/costs negotiated/spent before filming begins, including source material rights (for adaptations) and salaries for director, producer screenwriter, and actors.
Whammy Bar ( Little Black Egg.....)
Funks Pond(revamp)
(RUMOR HAS IT) Ernest T. Bass was involved in an interracial relationship with black model Donyale Luna_ they had a child in 1967 he never recognized the child. In 2001 his unrecognized granddaughter began tossing stones at a Mall in Mississauga Canada. It was said she was sing "The Creeks to Dry" skip along in bootie shorts, a white tee shirt and a sleeveless blue jean vest. It was said that she had large beetle bugs in her purse. Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!)
Written By: Pro.Tuum Proximus Maritus
and Doctor Uxor Eius Est
of Wobble Board Fame Inc.
Red Cow Music and Lyric Company
British White Recording Academy
Belgium Blue Sound Prep Inc.
all Produced and Ex-Produced
By Black Angus "Jumpan-Pumpin"
with permission by Star Anise Leather Co. LLC
Copyright Pending
Patent approved
"Cheezey-greazy sour Dill
with Yeasty rolls: Man thats
deliisous!"
Written By:
Huba Datl Chol
Circa 1969
Revised the other day(2023)
Our Daily Bread
Flour, yeast, and milk, a bit of butter too,
and giving it some time to rise,
into a loaf, it grew..
From this mass of sticky flour
will come warm, pillow soft bread.
My body continues its weary work,
as thoughts float through my head.
Looking out my window,
I see the vast and clear blue skies,
my heart fills up with longing…
like dough, perhaps I'll rise.
My arms will grow soft feathers,
my bones all hollow out…
giving me just what I'll need
to fly and float about.
Freedom from the daily drudge,
from burdens and all my cares…
I'll flap my newly made wings
and fly away from there.
Out of this very window,
into bright skies I see…
over the distant mountain tops
to unknown mountain peaks.
Perhaps a place where I could find
A peaceful people who…
give higher value to a woman's mind,
and all that women do.
We sisters of the uterus
We captives of the Moon
We who bleed to create life
Soldiers in stiletto shoes…
...carry more than our fair share
of heavy burdens and the blame…
our bodies are seductive
and so, seem steeped in shame.
These anchors bound to my arms
These binding ties, severed,
when bone turns to hollow straw
and skin sprouts supple feathers...
...then I'll rise like this yeasty dough
and bake in the oven of the sun.
I hear the ding of alarm bells ring
telling me my bread is done.
I know things have been quiet on the “ Mite-y Spread Front”
But do not be dismayed
Yeasty business brews in the Vegemite Camp
That is all I have to say….
It will take some time to come to fruition
But Marmite Man beware
“Remember sleep with both eyes open”
Always “yes” always….Be prepared!!
Just a friendly reminder Sir Tom
That we will continue this when the time is right
Our ongoing little banter feud
Of which is the superior Mite!!
So, NO resting on your laurels Marmite Man
Make sure your jar lids are tightly screwed on
As soon you will hear melodic Vegemite voices singing
The “Vegemite is pure delight, Marmite is pure sh**e” song!!
New England's post election trees
shed a few teary waving leaves.
Morning sky tries to shine resilience
yet lingers in ominous grey overcast
of silent waiting through despair.
In Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania
tens of thousands of mothers
who cherish their daughters
are beating themselves up about yesterday;
longing for a do-over
to avoid confidence in false predictions
of safely voting their green ecoconsciousness,
or too quietly staying home
to rake falling fertile leaves.
Failing leaves feel their personal mortality,
too old, over-extended, to survive another bitter winter
of expatriation
while maternal nurturing root systems survive through hibernation,
deeply embedding in Earth's nutritional compost
of yeasty faith,
waiting for another Advent enlightening Season.
Not a branch,
not even a twig,
stirs from frosty lethargy
wondering Why?
Why would we decide ownership of human bodies
must be illegal
because immoral,
yet sexist and capitalist
and racist and homophobic
weaponized irreligious predation
remains legally and morally ambiguous,
as if wealth of straight white male supremacist nobility
were God's full harvest of religious moral gifts
Excusing triumphant patriarchalism
by betraying autumn's promised grace
Elite relentless entitlement
of enduring cockiness
to buy fortressed escape
from winter's monolithic misery,
EarthTribe's historical hiatus
from SunGod's evangelical campaign
of hellfire
Recovering
silent spring's radiantly enlightened morning glory
from disunited piles of leaving ballots
already composted to fertilize richer soils
in four more autumnal climate years.
Savory described the dish a staple for breakfasters
The stock was said to be key to the foundation
of the dish.
2 hams
2
3 livers
3 kidneys
2 heads
cooked in 1 gallon of reserved pigfeet stock
add water to cover
take the meat off the bone
and stew the bones to make a broth
We used green peppers,carrots and onions and garlic to
make the broth
and mixed it with the broth of the meat and offals.
"when the meat is tender: glove up
and squish the large portion into handling size"
we would gring them later in a meat grinde
.2-5 cups fine cornmeal
¼-1 cup buckwheat flour
½ -1cup yellow onion diced small
For most scrapple recipes, the standard amount of
ground or rubbed sage is 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon
for every 1 pound of meat
grinf the meat
add the cornmeal and flour mix
add sage, salt(3 Tablespoons) add no more until
the mixture is at desired thickness
and has been tased for saltiny.
Common spices in scrapple include sage,
thyme, and black pepper, along with other
seasonings like salt, savory, and nutmeg.
Many recipes also call for garlic powder,
onion powder, and cayenne pepper for additional flavor.
Mix spices and taste
adjust to desired flavor
using loave pans and muffin tins ( small ones for decrotive effect)
load up and allow the scrapple to set up.
In a cool room place the scrapple for up to five hours before regerration or freezing
slice and enjoy!
*********************Note you can add cooked bacon and mushrooms that have been freid and twisted dry(in a cheesecloth)***********************************************************************
We had a fine supper that evening a celebration for all
Waffles
Pancakes
sausages
bacon
and scapple
with pies and cakes
A great time had by all
to celebrate the autumn
in preparation for
Winter!
Now I’m not a guy likes to dunk,
But this overseas backboard is junk.
For the costs I’ve incurred,
I should beat Larry Byrd,
Or hit a three-pointer, I’d thunk.
See, the front of the rim always droops,
And that makes it hard to play hoops.
Plus, the pole is too short;
it provides little sport
unless you’re a dwarf with the stoops.
But take heart and don’t ever fear!
Add hops to your hoops to bring cheer.
The more Hefeweizen,
The more you will wisen;
I’m a genius this time of year.
It’s not like you’re better; you’re not.
Just be happy that you forgot.
It’s bold and it’s yeasty,
so drink up your Wheaties.
Stop trying those darned three point shots!
—————
FIRST PLACE WINNER
For the Sad Backboards And German Hefeweizens Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Written on 04/17/2022
By Dana Redricks
April 11, 2020
"You were running [the race] well; who has interfered and prevented you from obeying the truth? This [deceptive] persuasion is not from Him who called you [to freedom in Christ]. A little leaven [a slight inclination to error, or a few false teachers] leavens the whole batch [it perverts the concept of faith and misleads the church]." Galatians 5:9). Run with patience. Run with diligence. Run with consistency. Run your race. Don’t worry about the race or pace of others. Choose to run at your pace with diligence, patience and endurance. (Vs.9) Leaven (yeasty dough) represents the man-made tradition and false teachings that obscure the truth regarding salvation through personal belief and faith in Christ. God wants us to be diligent, and pursue a life of godliness, and setting aside every weight that so easily besets us. We should continue in the faith. There are many wolves in the fold who wish to deceive us, but we will know them by their fruit, or their actions. We are told to test every spirit to it is of God." Beloved, do not believe every spirit [speaking through a self-proclaimed prophet]; instead test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets and teachers have gone out into the world." 1 John 4:1
My dad built a house on a hill. How exciting to climb to the tippy-top then look down upon the roof, and dog home, the bean garden, and to sled the slope in Winter white.
eyes delirious
dazzled, dizzy, delighted
dopamine kicked in
A truck gets stuck at the bottom of our steep driveway, blocking local traffic on our rural road. I wonder if this sticks in anyone else’s memory? Then like ants, industrious, sweating for donuts and coffee, my dad’s friends work their quads, up and down this unexpected hell.
our walls carried up
unfinished planks, like a cross
friendship marches on
We’d help spackle the parts of the wall scored by nails. Dad would use the saw to cut a wooden floor, like his rest-in-peace dad, who surely stops in to measure his son’s progress, to see his grandkids placing the unstained wood.
this home has no ghosts
brand-spanking new on old hill
but the past’s with us
While constructing, Mom would open a can of Dinty Moore stew, cook over a portable stove, and serve over rice. We would order Pizza from Salvatore’s - my mouth waters at the thought of this New York pie with Italian sausage, sauce and cheese. They’d occasionally order a submarine; I can still taste the fresh lettuce, tomato and thin-sliced deli meats on yeasty bread.
what we remember
is funny; the senses touch
childhood memories
The builder, of the house’s frame, was called one day. He was told my dad went through the roof. Later, they came, standing outside and sizing up the roof, when my mom questioned them as to what he was looking at. Mom rolled her eyes as she told him, what was meant, was that my dad was mad.
screwball translation
the heated conversation
is lost in humor
Shovelling the driveway, in Winter, in my plaid, woollen, hooded coat. My face can feel the chill, the briskness of the wind, and the warmth of mittens. I miss my childhood, even the arduous times, those wonderful family times.
a surprise arrives
at this address; a newborn
unplanned, a kicker
Prayer's wealthy positive potential
is not as substitute for healthcare planning.
Prayer might be a prelude to planning,
and might be an appropriate postlude
to fully implemented plans,
whether psalm of gratitude
or requiem of remorse
depending on healing or diseasing outcomes.
Even better,
some gratitude and humble remorse,
held together,
demonstrating we have learned something
from our nondual co-arising trial and error
and yet continue improving
our loving healthcare refinements.
But, whether my life plans are what happened
while Earth continuously revolved in other distressing directions,
or I continue learning to plan somewhat more cooperatively
and multiculturally
and polyculturally
and polyamorously
Inductive prayer and deductive plans co-arising
integrally more than separately,
hopeful prayer is the faithful planner's co-redemptive bookend,
Alpha and Omega double-binding points
of interreligious
peaceful reorientation
Not my personal How to Save the World book,
much less evangelically seminal scripture.
Prayer is my yeasty bread and liturgical garnish,
embodied needs to rise and dance,
mind wants to sing romance,
but not the red arteries and blue veins
of ego/ecologically balanced
lovely heart-care planning.
Something defenders of the 1st
and 2nd Amendments
might want to hold together
You have no authentic freedom of speech
or rights of interreligious
interdependently polyamorous
polytheistic expression
if I have the right to aim a gun
at monotheistic
monocultural caste preservers,
monopoly players
who disagree
unarmed.
And I have no authentic prayer
for victims of ballistic violence
that doesn't include
intercessory planning.
Onto hope is necessity
If waiting would not profit
Growth rate of yeasty bids
Boldly into anticipating yields
For anointed oil to fill pot to its brim
Hope hurts hasty head,
Healing heart's hindrance hurting...
Higher honor's host.
Onto chance is doubt
If shaky wait looses grip
Of expected time of being
Beyond what caution's seat
Can tame to ease such tension
Waiting weighs wit's will,
Wether with weight, work wows well,
Wad weary wall's war.
Onto anxiety is probability
If due luck isn't forthcoming
Gradually brighter to dying eyes
For long viewing afar its due arrival
Building capacity to hastily bear its cross
Anxiety ace acts,
Awaiting apt adjustments...
Alive abounding.
Onto peace is accord
If faith assumes rightly
Tightening Word's interval
Which drowning sea can't sink
Timing unfulfilled drift beforehand
Faith fights for future,
Featuring failure fearing...
Fulfilling fortunes.
Onto belief is assurance
If rest solely on its scope
Trying time's ton ultimately
Search endlessly not too early
Yet assessment bids via grace
Resting relieve risks,
Racing refined regret's reign...
Rapture reserved raw.