You must go to the fun house! It is the carnival’s best thing! My children said.
I pictured whimsical trees, pink birdies and lollipops eating sweetbread.
I slowed down my steps when we got there, it was frightening instead.
Terrorized completely, as an electric saw came toward me I quickly fled.
That is the fun of it, my children yelled after my departing head.
But I was home, hiding under the safety of my lovely queen bed.
no recollection
of ebullient memories
life of complex work
too many siblings to please
time for ice-cream if afford
a time of prayer
afterwards back to play cloths
with sweetbread and friends
a time children seen not heard
not enough love to go round
8/6/2022
A PBS SPECIAL: IF AS SUNG BY BREAD
Mm mm, if I had a sweet tooth,
I think I would be sugar proof.
A cake would be nice
to satisfy this appetite.
Sweet rolls are in the stove.
Let me turn my music on.
I must send a wavelength
to the cook.
She or he will prepare bread,
if his or her mood is good.
I am mill in here.
I am self-rising flour dear…
Oh, she hears.
Greetings darling!
Hello Mill, she is retrieving me.
I am about to be intensified.
Oh, she coming back for me now.
Sweetbread she will behold in her eyes.
Many desserts to come,
he has joined, shouted Mill and Self-Rising Flour.
_______________________________________/
Sponsor: Seren Roberts
Contest Name: "IF" as sung by Bread - write me a masterpiece
Entry Date: March 29, 2014
Date Written: March 29, 2014
PLEASE PASS THE SWEETBREAD
With sorrow tomorrow I will say fare thee well
As I be headed for the intestines of hell
A demon misdirected to be duly digested
While his fortitude and factor of fear is fully tested
With a vested interest in indecency and indiscretion
While involved in an iniquitous insurrection
A sinner sought by sordidness and the vengeance of tomorrow
No beggar but a being who prefers to rob rather than borrow
Just a junkie jousting with justice, judgment and condemnation
A soul aligned with the maligned yet suffering alienation
A spirit spited by speciousness and spurious allegations
And when asked if he feels like human waste he will nod in affirmation
For thus is this the me my mother never meant for me to be
And as for my father he was never very fatherly
And so it is I’ve come to this
A last resort for a lack of bliss
The final toll of a well-worn bell
As I am insidiously and insistently ingested by the intestines of hell
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…...~free cee!~
Some times
I wonder why
the white bread
hates the brown toast
when the sandwich maker shows
what the
bread maker knows
that the dark bread
and the white bread
are both
created from dough
even the sweetbread with raisins
that's totally different...
the baker made too!!!