Kiernan Michau
Feb 10, 2010

Maybe I’m not ready-
Not as ripe, not as fresh-
It might take me longer to grow,
To develop,
But I am just as sweet
Just as beautiful
Just as delightful
As someone else.
I’m slower than you-
I need more care
More water
More love;
Not less.
You can’t understand.
You are ripe.
You are ready.

paralysed, a vegetable as they say
Jul 21

As i lay asleep last night
my mind wondered through the window and out of sight
catching a ride on a passing crow
it went places i’ll never go

Gliding it passed over palms and rivers
swooping under waterfalls left me with shivers
rising on a warm sea breeze high
it watched the golden sun set and with a sigh

Returned begrudgingly to where bedridden i lay
paralysed, a vegetable as they say

#sad   #nature  
The vegetable medley
Petal pie
Petal pie
Mar 15

There was never before heard
Such a cacophony
As the day I witnessed
The vegetable medley

'Since you've bean gone'
They blasted out
The runners and broads joined in song
They could have rocked it all night long

But it was Taters turn
They  rocked  the stage
The veggies went wild
The 'monster mash' was all the rage

Then was petit pois chance to shine
He wowed them with a dance
Then made the broccoli sway and weep
With 'Give peas a chance'

Apr 29, 2013

A bite of meat
I dare not eat.
I'll have some fruit instead.

No milk for me
Why, can't you see?
I'd rather have some bread.

Faces haunting
Proteins taunting..
I don't want it if it's meaty.

You like to eat entrails
and brains,
A bit like zombies--beastly!

Hormone laden,
to make the thing called "Veal".

I can't believe what you go through
for your tasty high priced meal.

Gary L Misch
Gary L Misch
Jan 10, 2012

We grow with passion,
Our only cash crop is rocks,
Want peas? import soil.

Aug 8, 2013

I usually just twist my confessions into metaphors,
so instead of having to hear it you just see me shutting a door.

and behind there I'm climbing the walls, painting my naked body
with symbols of solace. Breaking out of windows and falling off the trellis.

My back always breaks in the garden below.

as a common garden vegetable,
Clem C
Clem C
Jan 10

One clove a day
health eternal I pray
that it is not true,
for I am well short
of the twenty two thousand
to have been eaten
by this date

one plant if it were new to enter
anywhere, would not pass inspection
as a common garden vegetable,
it would take decades and investigation,
to give the nod to forty garlic chicken
or even to transport one clove.

some say it is the taste,
to others it is the waft,
of air in advance of the consumer,
knowing it does the body good,
but if one eats garlic and your mate
must too, or there may be a break in that allure

each cluster
is a toxin buster,
if you can muster
the appetite.

each group
can raise a whoop,
from a troop
of the healthy.

eat it raw to digest
your will to resist,
that all will cease
and desist, to disagree.

eat it cooked,
make it good,
that it would
all the benefits
          your friends
will understand

the room

Maybe why... I am alone.
Eliza Jane
Eliza Jane
Jun 21      Jun 22

PSA: this is not a good poem, this is an explosion.
internal dialogue echoing within my fatty brain, overweight from months of stagnant vegetation.
one repetitive sentence feebly attempts to remove the attackers
“go away go away go away go away”

linoleum floors squeaking as my slippered feet find their grip,
praying that these feet don’t lead me to a kitchen full of knives, hungry to meet the stretch marks striping my newly obese thighs.
i’d rather have scars than these purple proofs of my inadequacy

the familiar hair-band meets my forearm for the first time in an age,
my vegetated brain slowly recognises this pattern from once before and the skills from months of therapy begin to kick in
breathe in
breathe out

wondering how on earth i will live for seven more weeks
desperate to make my voice heard
but stumbling into silence as my head slams the wall and bounces off the floor
leaving me stuck in my own harrowing mind,
one that is far too tired, lonely and ill to fight for much longer.

21/6 .. seven weeks and two days to go.
No one ever
No one ever
Mar 31, 2013

The sand hides the sun.
Through a fog of particulate silica.
For the first time in my life,
I may look upon that glowing
bearing, for minutes straight.

Innards swallow,
That rock it flings,
Paints on the light.
Now the water vapor hangs,
Amongst its spiny rays,
Creating a mist of cloudy haze.
My eyes must seek to,
Alas they lose this skirmish fray.
The sun cannot hide its specter.
The doppelganger image always,
Dapper and prim.
Amongst the thoughts in rift entrails of brain,
I think i am my brain. I don't think that when, head cut from body,
Shall my soul reside where my heart was;
Instead I may see, conscious, from where the two parted.
Creating a scar from which to view this hazed sun.
Ever notice,
How the eyes,
Are the only,
You can,
See from...

I can be an Ammonite with many chambers calcified.
Ghost fossil human head.
A ghost in a shell.
My eyes will carve shapes from the clouds.

The leader of the Christian slaves a vegetable?
Micheal Wolf
Micheal Wolf
Mar 29, 2013      Mar 29, 2013

I'm Spartacus
Well I'm asparagus according to predictive text
The leader of the Christian slaves a vegetable?
Don't you love technology

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