Hitler was a short man
His horrors committed
atrocious and despicable
with Zionists he colluded
acts of depravity, unspeakable
Netanyansky
a polish man also of horrors fame
loves his genocide like his pierogi
in the dark loves his kotlet schabowy
If they had ever met
they would kiss and rub each others neck
in love with genocide
Golda Meir on her knees for both
A threesome of perversions
rejoicing on babies death
and licking of burnt human flesh
a cult of evil, that will be in the end
A short story
when Palestine becomes free
Categories:
pierogi, evil,
Form: Free verse
All languages here are spoken
through all people of the World -
great mosaic of all cultures.
People are strong by their work.
Here consumption of:
Pizza, Hot Dogs and Pierogi,
of pemmican, beef and pork
is famous as hard work.
People study and work hard
for advancement of the science
and they create modern art.
They invent new technologies,
build the towers to the sky -
they resemble heaven’s thrones.
Categories:
pierogi, philosophy,
Form: Verse
The art of cooking never changes,
it's lure to us debates
taste vs. smell,
then it all rises up in memory like a colorful dream,
one of art that has been raided by veterans of the old country.....
My grandmothers never ceased to feed us,
"eat!" they would scream,
and their work worn hands would bring forth Polish and Ukrainian feasts of
pierogi, borsch, babka, and love,
blended into a holiday festivity that never disappointed, fresh from a sea of hand picked ingredients.
New York City was our place of initiation to that congregation of food and loud, loud people who thrived on second helpings.
I reincarnated this time just to be one of them.
Categories:
pierogi, culture, love,
Form: Free verse
I ride my “Women Inspired” Schwinn up to my friend’s path.
My bike is magenta and the path is chartreuse,
Swathed by the spent spring buds of a tree.
I see Mister, who I call “Meester the Dog!”
My friend slides her door open,
Mister jumps to greet me.
He is like a little, bright, brown pierogi,
Boiling between my friend and I like we were the sides of a kettle.
He is so happy, he pees on the patio and we smile and laugh.
I see my friend standing by the door,
And her great chocolate eyes and effulgent smile,
So comfortable in her soft grey top and her soft grey pants.
So comfortable in her skin.
We talk of the mundane, of money, the funny,
Tigers and Appleby’s, bogies and birdies.
We are absolutely ourselves in each other’s company
And she gives me delicious tea.
I put my magenta bike into the wind,
Pedaling happily home.
I love this woman.
Tomorrow many will observe a resurrection.
The holy will stand in church and celebrate the power of a god.
Today I stood on a bud strewn path.
Today I saw my friend.
Today I saw the sacred.
Today I celebrate.
Categories:
pierogi, friendship, life, seasons, friend,
Form: Free verse