Bangers and mash, oh what a delight!
I cannot wait for dinner tonight
Sausages sizzling under the grill
The hissing and banging is such a thrill
Nostrils alert to the scent in the air
Watering mouth as I pull up a chair
Softened potatoes with butter and milk
Are mashed to a puree, softer than silk
Scooped on the plate gracefully with ease
Arranged a la carte with a portion of peas
skip wop-ditty
auh ooh auh ooh
sonme time together
dancing with you
-----------------------------
danced all night
wwith my favorite gal
we did some contempary
soul searching all night long
danced all night with my Lady
we smiled
styling profiles
we danced all night long
when the music did a oop
I scatted and ooped
when the fella changed the beat
I scatt-dat deedled
to the groove
when she stood in
that ooh auh position
that one too sexy to mention
I scooped due-wooped
and be-bop
did you katch that dance move
we went dancing
we danced all night long
it was crazy
danced to my
favorite song
we went dancing
skipped to the beat
what fun we had dancing
all the new faces to greet
auh ooh we wop-ditty
auh she golly ooh
I love dancing
enjoyed my time
with you
A fresh, hefty heap I left in the box.
You scooped it away into that flushing abyss.
A crisp, satisfying sound echoed—
Music to my ears.
Phew. My poop was gone.
Are you a wizard?
Four long years passed.
Then, the human assumed the form of a serpent,
Devouring a long, green cucumber.
Slathering my poop all over it,
Licking away the giant, pungent stink
With a satisfied tongue.
And then, trying to seduce me
With a terrifying truth:
"Here’s Churu for you~"
"I’ve got another cucumber, you see.
And I made sure to spread the poop extra thick and salty this time."
"Eat up."
Ah, was I that hungry?
Did you pretend to throw away my poop all those years,
Just like a magician hiding a trick?
I passed out.
Overcome by your dark truth.
How on earth am I supposed to look you in the eye tomorrow?
Erudite at night verbose by day,
altho', I can't speak for others when I say,
"Shooting fish in a barrel of monkeys
(such primates rate a damn good spanking),
it seems to me, would not be fun at all,
there's no challenge, where's the reward?
It's enough to make an Australian crawl.
And, if Aussies ate nothing but eucalyptus,
as somnolent, lethargic koalas do,
would their breath also smell
as tho' they've been chewing cough drops too?
Do emu wonder why they have wings,
well, can they really have barrels of oil?
As, if it's to be sold or bought, how's it plumbed,
scooped off the top when they're brought to the boil?
And not to knock the fearless quokka,
cute tho' they may be,
the world's happiest animal
is not really smiling at you or even me.
What does the kookaburra have to laugh about
when they're feeling crook,
that Australia's wider than the moon?
Akubra hat's off, that's a fun one for the books.
Boo... meringues are fun, as is surfing thru' tubes,
but, me, I'd be a wombat, who actually do poo cubes!
Pacing myself like a dead jellyfish scooped up.
Disbelief.
That old vine.
Burning sandpaper.
Drilled into.
Willed away.
Scorched.
Ivy.
The worst kind of vine.
The unwilling.
And dead jellies.
A young man found an object
Unsure if it meant danger.
Here is how he chose to tell
His story to a stranger...
"By the glow of the fire
In the calmness of night
I saw this thingamajig
Twinkling near the light.
So I scooped it up
To examine it, you see.
And it started to whisper
Curious truths about me!
It revealed to me things
That I couldn't express.
My secrets, my desires,
My ideas of success.
My eyes welled up,
Filled to the brim.
I could hear the others asking,
'What's the matter with him?'
So I quickly rose and ran away
Leaving the others behind.
To find out what this was
Needed a scholars mind.
After my long, exhausting search
Can you explain to me
What this thingamajig actually is
Thus solving its mystery?
Why is it that only I could hear
The things it said to me?"
He quietly stroked his beard
While squinting thoughtfully.
"When you've found your truths
You must let it go for someone else to find.
Only the holder can hear it
For it echoes the holders soul and mind."
You've scooped out all the seeds,
but there's something else a pumpkin needs.
Think of other things -
you must scrape out pesky strings,
and know when to stop.
Otherwise, you'll never chop.
jack-o-lantern scooped out his own seeds
then carved out his face with a knife from Leeds
he looked amazing with his notorious face lift
being self-sufficient and handy is a wonderful gift
Stepping inside its home..
A reason to shine,
surrounded by HOPE
a chance to serve HIM.
Scooping joy into a funnel
Out comes manna from God
Smiles all around me, my chance to giveth to HIM..to HIS kids ..
Time has but stopped for us as a community all working together for one common goal, to feed HIS children, food for their soul.
But now the time has come to an end
As we clean up our area, it’s out of our hands, onto a pallet destined for GODS children, as we circle around our hands of Service, laying upon this pallet, my heart is full, God is HERE with us, we bless the food in which we scooped..
We gather in the room in which we came, gather once more for a moment to capture our mission.
It’s time to go,
90 minutes of serving HIM is done,
Why is my tears ready to burst?
My one time to serve HIM
so short
where will I go,
do for HIM from here?
Jesus My Savior please continue to ENLIGHTEN me..
For my heart with HOPE is still in that room,
I left it there for the next group of disciples…
to do with as they please..
Stealth hid in the corners of its soul
Patiently sowing its addictive seeds
Planting doubt in its many meanings
Each word a temporary assuagement
Its necessity cursed by its impermanence
And thus, the pen faltered in fledgling flight
Hesitations scribbles circling a meaning
The imposter, perfection, tapping its foot
Strewing the mind with contradictions canny
Thoughts tied to chairs refusing to confess
Neither AI or Spelchek will save you
For you do not throw snowballs you did not make
For you have scooped the words, compressed them
Rounded and smoothed them to perfection
And now….must hurl them
…at an unsuspecting world
Reheating seaweed soup
scooped and steeped from the Milky Way
rummaging sharply into the corners of torn memory
my unripe mother flickers like a candle watching the soup boil
There is no sieve to strain the light of her face that day
yet a cotton quilt smile that could soothe even icicles
a yearning for tomorrow holding starlight pooled within
the fluttering back of my twenty two year old mother
The remaining warmth in the seaweed soup she ate back then
seeping into my time grown heavy as it slowly reduces
tapping my worn and weathered pupils
engraving bitter salty tenacious footprints
Before the birthday dawn dries away
even if only in the haze of a dream
it would be good to see my mother as she was that young day
On my way to the shop at Kondele,
A lady approaches,
She is scantily dressed,
her breast merely visible
below the 'see me through' boob-top.
Exposing more than a saint should view
Her skirt barely covers her upper thighs.
I look at her and feel loose.
She has nothing to fear
She smiles looking at me in the eye,
I freeze.
‘Baby boy, we can talk.’ she says.
I hesitate and wants to leave
but the Lot's wife in my head says,
'Dont you see she's fine.'
I say ' Really? let's talk.'
She grabs me by the hands
and lead the way to the stairs.
soon we are upstairs,
And I am tasting the berries already.
She grabs my chest,
I pause
Then she says softly,
It is already 500bob.
I freeze.
I only have 50bob for milk,
yet I’ve scooped a premium butter.
Sudden warm sweat dots my face,
Not from the exercise,
But from shock.
Again, I freeze
On my way to the shop at Kondele,
A lady approaches,
She is scantily dressed,
her breast merely visible
below the 'see me through' boob-top.
Exposing more than a saint should view
Her skirt barely covers her upper thighs.
I look at her and feel loose.
She has nothing to fear
She smiles looking at me in the eye,
I freeze.
‘Baby boy, we can talk.’ she says.
I hesitate and wants to leave
but the Lot's wife in my head says,
'Dont you see she's fine.'
I say ' Really? let's talk.'
She grabs me by the hands
and lead the way to the stairs.
soon we are upstairs,
And I am tasting the berries already.
She grabs my chest,
I pause
Then she says softly,
It is already 500bob.
I freeze.
I only have 50bob for milk,
yet I’ve scooped a premium butter.
Sudden warm sweat dots my face,
Not from the exercise,
But from shock.
Again, I freeze
On my way to the shop at Kondele,
A lady approaches,
She is scantily dressed,
her breast merely visible
below the 'see me through' boob-top.
Exposing more than a saint should view
Her skirt barely covers her upper thighs.
I look at her and feel loose.
She has nothing to fear
She smiles looking at me in the eye,
I freeze.
‘Baby boy, we can talk.’ she says.
I hesitate and wants to leave
but the Lot's wife in my head says,
'Dont you see she's fine.'
I say ' Really? let's talk.'
She grabs me by the hands
and lead the way to the stairs.
soon we are upstairs,
And I am tasting the berries already.
She grabs my chest,
I pause
Then she says softly,
It is already 500bob.
I freeze.
I only have 50bob for milk,
yet I’ve scooped a premium butter.
Sudden warm sweat dots my face,
Not from the exercise,
But from shock.
Again, I freeze
As he slept his head was shaved
For he revealed the secret of his strength then God left him alone, momentarily
Delilah's greed was appeased
With Samson’s weakness
Hope is when our light is fading to darkness, it keeps us alive
His eyes were scooped out
Samson was blind and helpless
Samson could not see tomorrow
But God saw it for him
He was not holding God’s hand
God was holding his hand
Alone powerless ridiculed
Samson's hair was growing again
Because God never forgot him
Even in his weakest moments
His strength was coming back
His enemy was rejoicing celebrating his weakness his pain
But God chose Samson to do a job
A job He did finish because Samson's hair grew back
Frank Black Blacharczyk
Judges 16
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