Signor Bialetti Brews the Coffee now


Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti
Natty with your moustache and pork-pie hat
Charming man, your aluminum design
And Italian elegance grace my stove

If Don Camillo were to visit now
And bring along his ****** pal Peppone
They would still argue faith and politics
Just as they do in Emelia-Romagna

But here, over biscotti and expresso -
Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          Morning Coffee with Signor Bialetti

Wreckage is everywhere, two apple trees down
Limbs and leaves and litter, shingles and wood
The lawns are white with shoals of springtime hail
The lines are down and the power is out

But Signor Bialetti from Italy
A super-hero in aluminum
Is pleased to take his place on the camping stove
Twirl his moustache and stride through Sterno fire

Singing songs from his favorite libretti
While making us coffee – O brave Signor Bialetti!

If one had the bends

or Nitrogen Narcosis

Jacques Cousteau's

  chamber cured it.


If it was pertaining

  to Moka coffee or

pression in French

Bialetti found a fix.


  But nobody, even

   Thomas Edison

   has managed to

  lighten darkness.

Imagine a day without words,
Wireless, no radio, nothing to
chase the demons squatting in
the mind.

It is why I need to write first
thing every morning before
grinding fresh coffee beans
for my Bialetti Moka™.

Not long after the brew has
been mainlined into my veins,
I'm Wired and ready for some
serious brain storming.

I've got a pitch shroud
bubble of gloom, it's a
thought shadow that
appears on the stygian
stairway of my mind
every morning without
fail, a cumulus congestus
dark roasted. But for my
Bialetti™+100% Arabica,
I'd feel like **** all day.

Beans have a gender, in
Texas there was a judge,
he was called, Roy Bean,
his half brother was Les,
nobody ever titled him Mr.

ps.

This is a unisex Robusta,
- Arabica, medium roast
100% organic Moka poem,
inspired by Bialetti Logo !

Why do they need passports
who are we to say they can't
come here without a matching
photo of how they're supposed
to look and no glasses or cap
and why can't they smile, how
do we know whether they got
teeth or could they open a knot
why do we need to know their
height and age and *** and the
colour of their eyes what if it
was Andrea Bocelli, he might
give us a song to prove it, and
if we didn't like it we could say
Con Te Partiro because since we
Irish joined the E.U. we know of
confetti Bialetti and spaghetti we
could tell when people were pulling
a fast one: "if they had no passport".

Another Cold Coffee


      Can you imagine what it

      feels like to wake up after

     a long uninterrupted sleep,

yet, it seems as though you had

         not been to bed at all.


     Thus the beginning of my

                 every day.


       Then I take breakfast,

      which is punctuated with

  with periods of pause, when I

   find myself on a frozen oasis

staring through a mental mirage.


   I don't see or hear anything.


This is where the well within me

rises up like a Bialetti Moka® ***  

  past the pressure relief valve

to eye level, diffusing an already

   blurred vision, even further.


Meanwhile, the aroma dissipates.


        Another Cold Coffee.