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Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
.before i come to the food topics, here's a pet peeve... language... how the pakistanis might / might not be offended by the laziness of the english, shortening their denotation to a prefix: ****-... and i'm like... is that really offensive? with the -stani suffix missing? o.k. o.k., iraq: iraqi... iran: iranian... pakistani: ****- / pakistani... so what about afghanistan? afghan, or afghanistani?! i'm pretty sure it's afghan... a person is afghani and not afghanistani... so what's wrong with ****-? it must be an english-****'stani thing from the 1960s or something... ******* as sensitive as french footballers... this has to be hard-pressed... this instance... because i hardly think it's a racial slur to stick to the prefix and not include the suffix, given the example from afghanistan - just like the "problem" of calling a jew a ***-, borrowed prefix from... yiddish! now for the food:

a. would you trust a skinny chef? i know i wouldn't trust a chef who's also a healthy-eating gym bro maniac, i bet he would never cook with lard or pork trimmings, with that calorie calculator lodged up his head that represents an ******* is not much to go with when taste is prime... 6ft1 253.5pounds, that's where i stand... i would never trust a health-freak to cook for me, let alone all the proofs rattling anorexic examples...

    b. "***** take your shoes off and get into the kitchen!" what a ****** joke, chauvanism rampant... mind you... who the hell said that women belong in the kitchen? they don't... i don't want a woman in the kitchen... i've had two dinners cooked by my fwends' mothers when still in my early teens... 1. over-cooked pasta... my fwends father would pretend to eat the dinner, before driving me home while stopping off at a sikh diner and took to the take-away (cooked by men), another example beside the over-cooked pasta? under-cooked spring potatoes - after all... the men on ships and submarines that kept the other men firing did all the cooking... men can cook... or at least: that's the least they should do... think: organic chemistry experiments...

eating a raw herring
in piquant mayonnaise
of reminiscence of a
granny-smith and pickled
cucumber tickle...
slurping it up into
a workout of the oesophagus
might remind many
of oral ***: but after all...
it's only a raw herring being eaten.

p.s. well perhaps gulping down
a raw oyster does feel familiar
to performing oral *** on a woman...
but since you're not really
chewing the oyster,
or licking it... but gulping it whole...
i can only compared performing
oral *** on a ***** to
                eating a raw herring.

            and why all of this talk of food?
well... what's on the menu for tomorrow?
a bangers & mash stew,
    old recipe from the days of the british
empire... mind you: why did they
call sausages bangers back then?
well, during the war, they put a lot of
water into the sausages...
and when water mixes with warm oil?
bang! bang!

                 'i was five and he was six,
   we rode on horses made of sticks,
he wore black and i wore white,
   he would always win the fight...
   bang! bang!
  he shot me down!
  bang! bang!
                 i hit the ground...
bang! bang!
   that awful sound...
bang! bang!
   my baby... shot me down!'
              (audio bullys ft. nancy s.) -

so obviously i had to take a walk
and buy the key ingredient...
   i.p.a.:
        and when they were stationed
in the raj, and the troops were receiving
provisions...
  the standard beer wouldn't last the trip,
going off...
     and dark port was too sweet...
so indian pale ale was invented:
   more potent alcohol content and brewed
based more on hops than barley or wheat...
bitter: but my god, what a strand of beer,
like your typical irish stout...
   which is why i never figured out
  the bud to be the king of beers...
   fermentation of rice? sure... it's crisp...
but also the sort of toddler **** you'd expect
from rice fermentation:
no body, no *****, no blood,
no palette...
      easy stew:
   sausages,
      onions, garlic, celery, carrots,
                  leeks...
     a bottle of i.p.a.,
   some to degrease the pan the sausages
and veg were fried on, the rest for the jacuzzi...
some water, bay leaf, salt to taste,
   tomato purée and 2tbsp
  of muscovado sugar to bite through
   the extra hops... mash on the side...
                  and an array of veg on the side too...

i still don't know where the idea
that women belong in the kitchen came from:
perhaps when the men were coal-miners,
and when the kitchen wasn't filled
with all the current day appliances
of convenience...
   when women worked as hard in the kitchen
as the men who worked in the coal-mine...
perhaps then, in the early part of the 20th
century... when spaghetti dough was hand-made
at home...
then a woman could take pride in her
house-keeping...
   now? now i guess: the same sort of melancholic
voice bound to nancy sinatra singing...
because once upon a time it was hard
work, running the house...
                       and then "suddenly"
everything became simple...
a man could walk into a coal-mine,
come back home and...
              make himself a decent meal...
  looking at what the english woman buy
in the supermarket?
      couch potato maidens...
       ready meal after yet another ready meal...
things have become so easy
that easy isn't enough...

      let me tell you a culinary ***** of a story...
the scurge of making homemade
ravioli! believe me... once a year is enough...
sure, it tastes great...
                  but once a year is enough.
jellica  Jul 2014
lesson learned
jellica Jul 2014
I learned from experience that our parents lied when they said monsters weren't real... Because humans are the real monsters.
Yes us.
You.
Me.
Her.
Him.
They don't live under the bed they live in the real world where there really isn't no where to hide. I believe that humans are our own demons, and all together they are the most scarriest things on earth. Because why do people get killed? who gets *****? Who suffers? Who bullys? Who yells? Who causes pain? Anger? Fear? Abuse? …and caused by who you may ask?
Just another human I shall reply.
My creativity is not so great I apologize.. But I believe what I say is true, and I'm sorry if you disagree. But what can I say im just 16 and I still have alot to learn.
ZACK GRAM Jul 2019
MAIN STEET BANGING,
WESTSIDE BROTHER,
PULL THE TRIGGA WIGGA-
IMMA A BIGGA FIGYA,
MASTER RACE,
ARYAN BROTHERHOOD TILL MY GRAVE,
KING OF NATIONS,
THY GOD SHALL COME IN THY NAME.
WE WIN YOU LOST-
IM BOSS,
IT CAME AT A COST,
NO SOUL NO REMORSE,
BODY THESE PUNKS LIKE A MEAL THATS 12 COURSE!!!


COME AT ME CROOKED,
ILL BRING OUT MY STEALTH BOMBERS!!!
COME AT ME,
ILL CALL ALL MY F-TWENTY TWO RAPTORS,
COME,
I GOT F-THIRTY FIVE FULLY EQUIPPED LIGHTNING....
I STRIKE FIERCE,
THIS MY CHAT,
THIS MY SPOT,
YOU MESS WITH MY LIVELY HOOD!!!
SO NOW I CALL APO AN TAKE YOU OUT...
ZMAN LOCKED UP,
BUT IM STILL OUT HERE MAKIN ENDS....

FAKE FRIENDS-
I DARE YOU TO ****** TRY ME,
ILL SHUT THIS **** DOWN LIKE SEVEN ELEVEN

THIS CHAT JUST DIED,
SINCE IM GONE THIS CHAT WRAP OVER,
NOW THAT IM GONE...
IM OVER HERE BILLIONS DEEP-MAKIN STACKS,
YALL ****** EMO OR FAT,
****** MATTER FACT,
NO I TAKE THAT BACK,
YOU A RAT,
A SNITCH BISH WHO I WANNA DRAG,
DRAG DOWN THE ROAD BY MY TRAILOR HITCH,
ITS A LYNCH,
TREE TIED TONGUE TWISTED STOP YAPPIN...

DEATH, WHAT IS IT?
IM NOT SCARED IVE SEEN IT,
BEEN THERE MANY TIMES-
ON THE VERGE OF A BREAKDOWN,
ASKING GOD? QUESTIONING ALL THE ABOVE?
BUT LISTEN HERE MOMMA JAMAIMA FAR FROM SYRUP....

I HOPE,
I PRAY THIS BITES YOU LATER IN YOUR LIFE,
FRANKLY IVE HAD ENOUGH,
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH,
THE BULLYING STOPS NOW,
YOU HAVE NO CHANCE,
IF YOU BURN MY HOUSE DOWN,
ILL GET BACK UP AN SHAKE YOU OFF,
A WISE RAPPER TOLD ME TO BRUSH MY SHOULDERS, LEARN MUCH????
NO MORE BULLYS NO MORE PAIN
starchild Nov 2017
Im off my rocker
i admit
but when they come a nocker
i will answere
whith a red smile
out of the sadness
out from the mile
ready to be crazy
so what
ive been through mazy
so i head out
ready to deal whith those sane
and then i head into the out
to the tree
and i laugh and cry
cause thats where she met me
but i laugh
i laugh cause im crazy
im a maniac
im loco
im a psychopath
but im still good
ill help those who are good to
but those hoods
those bullys
they will be those who face me
face the crazy
those who are bullys that think themselves so cool
will beg for forgiveness
because no one deserves what they put upon
what gets put upon me
but im tired of just leting them bully me and bully others
im tired of bieing normal
im always overthinking
but now its there time dont you think
and this shall be my insanety who reaks vengance
this shall be my crazy story
i might be posting alot of poems in one short period....... oh well.
hayley Leeds Oct 2017
A bullys' gun is their mouth, their bullets are the cruel words they speak, their targets are those who they see as weak.

What can you do? Well for some the most tempting thing would be to throw a punch to shut them up, or instead find yourself your pride and strength, learn to ignore the words they speak.

Option 1 is more tempting but gets you into trouble, option 2 means you may known their inflated egos and burst their bubble, because when you stop reacting to the words they speak, they may realise you aren't the one who's weak.

A bullys gun is their mouth, their bullets are the words they speak, their targets are those they see as weak. So don't listen, don't doubt yourself, ignore the tempting urge to reply or lash out, they can keep firing but the bullets will soon rebound, the control, the power they once had will never be refound.
Arcassin B Nov 2014
By Arcassin Burnham



Fire to burn,
Til tomorrow,
Red skies,
Not a representation of evils into the universe,
For your fellow human beings,
Insane increasingly industrial cyber bullys,
But could never stop growing pains,
Don't you ever let another human being,
Drive you off the edge,
To destruction,
Instead be reborn into a higher commune,
Think about the future,
Or love in that order,
But never forget your love ones,
As they have been deceased,,
Calling on dawn to let them see you again,
It says they all miss you..
R.I.p
Hinata  Apr 2014
he cries
Hinata Apr 2014
he cries when she stood before him, breaking his heart,
he cries when she says she hated him from the start.
he cries when she tries to leave,
he cries when she threw her engagement ring in the grass and leaves.
he cries when he stared her in the eyes,
he cries when she said that everything was lies.
he cries when she made him crawl in the grass to look for the ring,
he cries when he hears her softly and happily sing.
he cries when she stared at him with no emotion,
he cries when he looks for the ring with a lot of devotion.
he cries when he brings forth the ring only to be rejected,
he cries when she seems to be unaffected.
he cries when she tells him a story,
he cries when he says im sorry.
he cries, she remembers,
he cries, she dismembers.
she cries, everything she held in for years leaking out,
she cries from her heart, everything pouring out.
she cries when she remembers the time he pushed her away,
she cries when promises are made but never get fulfilled the next day.
she cries when she remembers when he doesnt talk to her,
she cries when she remembers when he did nothing when the bullys bullied her.
she cries when he would abandon her for others,
she cries when she remembers plans getting cancelled for one reason or another.
she cries when he used to toy with her emotions,
she cries when she remember all those tears she shed in every pillow and couch cushion.
she cries when they had all those fights,
she cried when her heart died.
she cried when he smiled,
now he cries when she insanely smiled.
he cries when she reached out to him,
he cries when she forgave him.
he cries when she kissed him with no thought whatsoever,
he cries when he realizes that he's her slave forever.
meh could be better but what do you guys think?
Ottar  Feb 2014
No Place
Ottar Feb 2014
discarded belongings, don't long to be under the trees
                                                 among the dead leaves,
a suitcase, a blow up mattress wrapped in plastic
                 does sleep happen here, how domestic?
There is no place,
watch where you walk, needles and not from the cedar trees,
anything you like under the trees?,
by the babbling creek who has heard, more stories that
float among the shallow pools, until the rain tests the truth and
the lies bob and float away,
under the trees tales have been told,
that get caught in the low hanging
branches, and
the smoky clouds that are lifted with the voices,
get in amongst the cedar tree arms,
and just hang there, ghosts of the past,
dead end relationships,
drug deal, something to steal,
was that a scream?
or did the caretaker of the underbrush
have a bad dream? There is no place like
this, but it happens so often this way.

"Pumphouse, bus stop, hospital and a high school,
Tim Horton's so close that you could...walk right
there, crossing traffic being bullys on the boulevard,
Dairy Queen, rehab centres and a place that takes
...well crazies off the street, and a place that sells
flowers and plants, look at all the amenities that are
close at hand."

"Hey, roll up the rim is here, you can win twice,
can you spare enough change for a coffee mate?, here,
I 'll even show you to the head of the line, I would hold
the door open for ya' but the place is under renovation,
you know, coffee to go from the mobile restaurant"
no place to call home,
no place to live,
no place for privacy,
unless you can find a
bigger tree,
there is no place quite like this place,

see "Up the Creek with out a shopping cart" pretty much the same place
Foo Faa  Mar 2016
for Charlotte
Foo Faa Mar 2016
Charlotte makes my eyes water
Charlotte bullys me
Charlotte eats my soul
Charlotte digests my soul
Charlotte poops my soul
Charlotte is a black hole
Charlotte is a wilting flower
Charlotte is an angry bear
Charlotte the wind that blows down your dreams
Arcassin B Sep 2014
by Arcassin B





pulled out of the fire,

like a blaze,

telling you too many times,
its just one of those days,
cant keep dealing with the situation,
give me a light,
smoke it till i cant breathe,
just trying to loose sight,
and i keep telling myself,
man it will be alright,
in the kitchen cooking up a meal,
last me for the night,

you mite have that thought you could get the best of me,

but i keep doubting that you will,

i miss the anger in your voice,

i bet i make you furious,

please dont fade on me,

im losing you,

your delirious,

too selfish,

you get no love,

not even hate,

nor a reaction,

to the bullys,
and the victims,
we all have a calling,
as well as were all human,
the generation is falling.
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2014/09/wings-of-odd-dangers-full-mastered.html

— The End —