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Nira Dec 2017
If I collected my tears in a bottle, left it to the sea's mercy
Would you search for my tears among all that water?
Or would you just laugh with your liquid eyes
And lend me some milk and honey, milk and honey
The constellation of freckles mapped on your nose
Remind me of our milky way galaxy, of milk and honey

My eyes are leaking milk
My lips are drooling honey
Me eyes and lips leave behind
Milk and honey, milk and honey

Sometimes my words seem as empty as your promises
And that tears me apart worse than your love ever did
Limb by limb, ***** by *****, kiss by kiss
you dissected my love till I had nothing left to prove
Now I'm left wondering who made mistakes
Who sent me this bottle of milk and honey, milk and honey?

My eyes are watered by milk
My lips are touched by honey
My eyes and lips are flavored with
Milk and honey, milk and honey

Why do your cuss words sound like milk and honey?
You might be pathetic but oh what a pretty liar
Promises dripping with the water from your liquid eyes
If the symphony of my love ever touches your heart
Send me some milk and honey, milk and honey
Till then, I will l lie among the fallen pinecones

My eyes are turning into milk
My lips are turning into honey
My eyes and lips are now simply
Milk and honey, milk and honey

~If I ever wrote about milk and honey
I would write about you~

- n.g. // my fingers are sticky with your milk and honey //
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)

Once upon a time in the city of Omurate
In the southern part of Ethiopia
Omurate that is on Ethiopian boundary with Kenya
There were two prosperous animal families
Living side by side as good neighbours
in glory and pomp of riches
Each family was ostensibly rich
And rambunctious in social styles
They were the families of African rat family
And the Jewish cat family; the city belonged to them
They all enjoyed stocks of desert scorpions from Todanyang
From the savanna desert of Northern Kenya,
The two families also enjoyed to feed on desert locusts
On which they regularly fed without food squabbles
                               Locust themselves they flew from Lowarang to Omurate
From Lowarang a desert region in Kenya, to their city of Omurate
Sometimes the Jewish cat family enjoyed an extra dish
In form of puff adder flesh, especially the steak of the puff adder muscle
Puff adder were cheaply available in plenty at the lakeshore,
Lakeshores of Lake Turkana
At point which river Ormo enters into Lake Turkana
So the cat was happy and relaxed
Even it rarely mewed,  
Neighbours never often heard its mewing sound
The rat also enjoyed plenty of milk with no strain
Easily gotten from the rustled cattles
Cattle rustled by the Merilee; a warrior tribe in Omurate.

That day the cat had gulped milk since morning
Even its stomach was bulging
Like that of Kenyan state officer
The rat had milk all over the house
In the kitchen, milk allover
In the sitting room, milk in abundance
In the wash, room milk all through
On the bed, milk and stuffs of milk
The rat was bored with nothing to be enticed
Sometimes plenty of milk can become a bother
The rat mused to itself in foolish African empathy
That may be the cat is starving in pangs of hunger
With nothing to drink, or may be it has no milk
When the milk is rotting here in my house
It is un-African for food to rot in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full,
On these thoughts the rat washed its legs, and hands
Finished up with its face,
Put on its white short trouser and a green top
It stuffed its tail inside its white short trouser,
The rat poured milk into two pots,
each *** was full to the brim
It carried one in its left hand
And balanced another on its head
In its right hand was an African walking stick
For the elders known as Pakora
The rat took off to the home of the cat
In full feat of animal love and philanthropy
Whistling its favourite poem;
An Ode to a good neighbour,
Walking carefully lest it spills brimful milk,
It entered into the house of the cat without haste
Neither knocking nor waiting to be told come in
In that spectacular charisma of a good neighbour,
When the cat saw the rat it giggled two short giggles
And almost got choked by indecision
For it had been long since this happened,
Since the cat had dine on milk leave alone rat meat
The rat said to the Jewish cat that my brother
Have milk I have brought for you
Have it and sip here it is; the real milk,
In devilish calmness the cat told the rat;
Put it for me on the table, thank you,
But my friend Mr. rat don’t go away; there is more
More for you to help me in addition to milk,
Continue my brother Mr. Cat, how can I help you?
Don’t call me your brother; bursted the cat,
For it is long since I ate the rat meat
And you know rat meat is our stable food
In a frenetic feat of powerlessness the rat was confused
In attempt to save itself
it pleaded that my dear elder, I was
Only having plenty of milk in my house
And to us African rats, it is a taboo
To have a lot of food in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full
So I only brought you the present of Milk
Please have it and drink,
Without taciturnity the Cat retorted in persistence;
I know and I am thankful for your good manners
But remember with us Jewish cats it is heinous sin
Forget of a taboo, it is blasphemy against the living
God for one of us to leave the rat free from our house
For you rats are the only stable and kosher food God blessed for us
The Jewish rat family all over the world
So shut up your mandibles, I am to eat you first
Then I will take milk later as a relish.

With its herculean paw the cat crushed the rat
With mighty of the leopard culture
Throwing away the white trouser
And green top from the torso of the rat
The cat ate the rat with voracity of the devil
After which it punctuated its mid day appetite
With slow and relaxed sipping of milk
Slowly and slowly as it felt its internal greatness
And hence the African proverbial cry that;
Behold foolish angst kills the African rat!
Michael Kusi Dec 2017
Santa came down the chimney
He was glad the fireplace was not on this time.
He dusted himself off and checked his GPS.
Modern technology
Has made his job so much easier.
Santa remembered when he was using Mapquest
It was not pretty.
Trying to get into homes that did not have chimneys
Was no easy business.
He walked around the living room.
And did not see a tree.
So he took a plant from off the windowsill
And put the presents by it.
This should give them holiday cheer.

Santa then went to the cookies.
He was looking forward to the cookies and milk.
I hope they have chocolate milk
It is my favorite.
He saw the cookies
It was Macadamia nut.
Santa shook his head
It was not his favorite but he had to do.
Then Santa saw the milk
It looked like whole milk.
Santa sighed.
They are not bringing what Santa likes
He then drank the milk
And spat it out.
What is this?
Almond milk?
Why would you do that to Santa
He shouted.
Then ran into the kitchen so no one would see him.
Santa had to wash his mouth out.
All the while muttering
Almond milk, Almond milk?!
Almond milk is not even milk!
It is just potpourri that fakes being milk!
Real milk comes from animals that feed on land.
Not the land itself!

Suddenly a man came to the kitchen with his son.
And asked, What are you doing here?!
The son cried out, Daddy he ate your milk and cookies!
Santa tried to explain, I thought they were mine.
And soon left the home.
He went to his sleigh
And told himself, I really should have reviewed the naughty list.
These trips will be the end of me.
Almond milk and macademia cookies?!
What is this, all nut everything for Christmas?!
Peter 2:2

"Like new born babies, crave pure Spiritual Milk,

so that by it you grow up in your Salvation.

Now that you have tasted ,   know that the Lord is good."


Milk?  Yes, I would love to know your Spiritual Milk, and love to share all the Spiritual Milk that I have grown to know of my own Salvation. Know thyself, and thy Milk.  only seems fitting, before one goes thinking they wish to know anothers milk. Milk of any kind,that is. For I wish follow the Spiritual Milk before I know all the beautiful milks of any love I ever hope to share my life with.    For life I intend to be sharing my all with only one person and with that one person my full and whole life, for life.   What do you wish to do friends? and what Milk do you know of thyself?  beloved in yourself, you are able and worth it. trust, you are, so act accordingly and raise that milk and tithe your ten percent to your ark
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
She served milk toast on Sunday
She served milk toast on Monday
Milk toast is what you might guess
Milk on toast with sugar and cinnamon
That is all
She served milk toast on Tuesday
That is all
Four of the five complained
She served milk toast on Wednesday
All but one cried, “We hate milk toast!”
She served milk toast on Thursday with tears in her eyes
The littlest one saw his mother’s streaming salty fluid
He said, “Momma, I love milk toast.”
The streams turned into raging rivers
Amongst all the wetness came odd quirks of laughter
Momma mustered everything she could
Next thing out was, ”I’m taking that job Dean”
What could Dad say while he sopped up his milk toast?
That is when Momma went to work for the phone company
They never ate milk toast again
Some days you had no cinnamon.
JJ Hutton  Feb 2013
almond milk
JJ Hutton Feb 2013
swashbuckling kittens wallpaper -- cutlasses, eyepatches, royal blue bandanas --
lined the walls of the kitchen.

"you love it, don't you?" Mathilda asked. she poured me a glass of almond milk.
and I could drink almond milk with a lesbian forever. and ever. and ever.
fridge door open. it's sparse. a world weary McDonald's bag and a last chapter beer,
the only other tenants.

"it's neat," I said. don't care much for animals. don't hate them by any means,
but don't go out of my way for them. my analyst says it's Sparks, Oklahoma's fault.
see, when a boy, I had seven---no, eight kittens named Simba. the howl of the coyote
taught me about expiration dates. Had a hard time accepting total loss (e.g., eight Simbas).

"do you feel okay?" Mathilda asked. and I didn't. but I said,

"yeah, yeah. sorry about waking you up last night. just didn't think I could make it home."

"I noticed you slept perpendicular to the futon. with your sneakers on. interesting choice."

Mathilda can be funny. and the almond milk was good. and like I said, I could drink it with
her forever. the ceiling fan, though, rocked off-kilter. she had stray, sad balloons in orbit
around the fan. imagined the balloon with the red-lettered "BOO-YAH" entering the wake
of the wobbling blades. imagined the blades flying off one-by-one. imagined one striking
me in the head and freeing me of a hangover. imagined being in the back of the line outside
the gates of heaven, while St. Peter kept letting the hot, single girls cut in line.

"will you?" Mathilda repeated, I think.

"will I, what?"

"take a picture of me in front of the wallpaper."

"sure."

"sorry, I've taken like 30 selfies trying to get Grace to re-notice me.
starting to feel like a chronic masturbator."

"what do you mean?"

"well, you know, selfies are pathetic indulgences in narcissism. hell, they can be
necessary, as is the case this time, I assure you---but pathetic, nonetheless."

took the phone. Mathilda stood in front of the pirate kitten wallpaper.
she leaned forward. made a kissy face.

"do you have to do that?" I asked.

"don't bust my *****," she said, "just take the photo. I know what Grace likes."

the two broke up last week. Mathilda in her oh-yeah-wanna-run-off-with-ol-banana-***** fury
threw a ******* party with balloons (they were tethered to things at the time.
the dining chairs, cabinet doors, the wrists of guests, etc., etc.). I left early that night.
I'm straight and not very relevant. so, well, you get it.

"would you like some coffee too?" she didn't look up. with locust clicks she fingered
the screen of her phone, uploading the kissy face, pirate kitten wallpaper picture to
her Tumblr. I nodded.

at the party she bedded two skeletal, Sylvia Plath feminists. self-fulfilling prophecy.
she'd written about the then-fictitious scenario months ago on her blog.
Mathilda called me crying the following morning. between the
shame/guilt/self-pity wails, she advised, "don't ever be the third wheel in a threeway."
noted. she said the three had a silent, last breakfast before they left. and I said something
to the effect of, you didn't let them go near the oven did you?

the first droplets of coffee hissed as they struck the bottom of the ***.

"if only coffee were a woman," Mathilda said. "am I right?"

"if coffee were a woman, I'm afraid I'd still pour her into a fine porcelain cup and drink her."

"you're awful."

and I am. but she doesn't mind because I've been celibate for two years, and she's been
so successful it brings her down. off-setting penalties, the basis of our friendship. or maybe
it's the way we leave things where they fall or rise. natural resting places. Simbas. balloons.

when the brew idles I grab two cups. fill hers three-quarters full. she likes almond milk in it.
and I could drink almond milk with a lesbian forever, I swear. to the fridge. the ceiling fan
seems a bit louder. one-by-one the blades. and heaven. and St. Peter, the pervert.
gave the almond milk a shake.

"why you holding on to the McDonald's bag and the practically empty beer?
I think they're starting to smell."

she didn't answer. well, not right away, anyway. and I took that to mean they belonged
to Grace. natural resting places. so, I mix the almond milk into the coffee.

"I know I should throw it out. Grace doesn't even like McDonald's. Do you know what's
in that bag?"

"I don't."

"avocados."

"what?"

"yeah. one of her friends works there. just cut up some avocados for her."

what sacrilege. made me tired, you know? fast food avocados, selfies,
Sylvia Plath feminists, etc., etc. the ceiling fan sped up, for no reason, I think.
the balloons cast shadows over the dining table. and I could drink almond milk
with a lesbian forever. trust me. just not under those conditions. beeline for
the fridge. door open. snagged the bag of blacker-than-brown avocados
and the bottle of beer.

"stop. she could be back any day," Mathilda said.

and what I should of said was no. what I should have said was Grace,
for all intents and purposes, was dead. and what she was doing
was reusing a dead name. and reusing a dead name isn't a resurrection.
but what I said was, "okay." and I sat down under the ceiling fan.
my natural resting place. almond milk forever. and ever. and ever.
kakashi's wife Feb 2017
dear Jackson,
i saw you again today
with her.
i was going to talk to you until she pulled you into a kiss
and so i left it to another day


dear Jackson,
i saw you again with her
but this time she was looking away
and you looking at her, and i wondered
what were you thinking about?


dear Jackson,
she wasnt with you today
so i sat next to you and you told me
you had an argument with her
so i gave my condolences and you said not to worry


dear Jackson,
you were by yourself again today but came to me
you seemed really down and so i offered you strawberry milk
you smiled, and thanked me
i know she hates strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
you were with her again today
smiling this time and laughing
she had a banana milk in her hand as did you
and so i left


dear Jackson,
i didnt see you today
i wondered where you were
as i sat on the bench
drinking my strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
she was screaming at you today and you screamed back
she stormed off leaving you alone
as you sat with head in your hands
and i drank my strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
i gave you another strawberry milk
and you thanked me with a small grin
and we sat there drinking
and enjoying eachothers company


dear Jackson,
you should smile more
it really suits you
its just a shame that today
you smiled because of her


dear Jackson,
there was a strawberry milk in your locker
and she said it was from her
and you accepted it and kissed her
forgetting she hated strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
its been 5 months since weve spoken
and i sit here every day wishing
and drinking my strawberry milk
as you smile together
i was going to talk to you,
but whats the point.
inspired by milk and love
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
Asal 2, Einstein's female Driver Kiki is Chinese;                                        
                                          Paul York,
maybe Dead words related to Sarah,         |              |   the girl;
2 O; This story of their group is for,           or with the perfect
emotional stimulation; Finally, the Dead One;    one problem
going to the present, to add, PA Try                  This is a clean
wedding bag,            Oh, my 2 seater, "The trial is in the pool
and the Trade Trade Fair certificates;    Carl is a good source
of happiness;    If you have many walk in the way of thinking
can be seen from CA; and the painful daughter of many T-1,
which is done and it is here; that's not of value
In the lungs, you will find Standard and optional
Milk is the best milk useful Finally,              when the difference
is between 1000.1                  How old is it, Winston;   Hawkeye
Huh neighboring Asia is the opposite;                 These are great
for the census; called upon and talked,                              and no
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Despite the part of Friday afternoon featuring Women
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1, if you know that there is still something in that;                                 agents for the rights of girls, OH and Sarah 'Girl 2';                                    Necro, NY;
We returned to the Lillith Death Sites asking for stupidity;
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Try St. PA scams and the beauty of it at the wedding;
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Husband and good in the eyes Blessed is he who goes out of the way
from the rising of the moment that you are able to let the destinations
of the wars, if more is needed,            of CA.                 And large, 1-T;
one of them was killed,                                            and these are as follows:
Where there's something from the little Oh Oh Oh a little bit
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ban on passion with your annual yogurt of life;                           In the region
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Time 1: That woman got a single day,                                     she was shot ...

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alarm 1
In an Art section altar of Eni,                                        Aso Aso Aso Aso Aso
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NY design RENAL WINDING, RETURN, AND RETURN
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Seth, we're doing something Feb 2 On Sailboats;                          Proof AND;
If truth is to start Happy,                            Happy is he who is born To satisfy
us; We can travel ideas during War, if they need lots of CA;
MODERN AND ATTRIBUTION,       Instead of T - 1 THE
ONLY **** SUBJECT MODEL,   And there are THESE
AND RETURN, HERE are some intestines,        Irina some
amount, oh, Best Screenshot          Stuff Because your 1000
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in the record Breast breastfeeding breast is limited
to Kiki; that's 2 their site is not the case of Iowa
encased in a white T alarm 1 In the picture section;
The timer's timer of Eli's Day Day Day Day
in the wings HERE BEFORE Women are ...
Asal 2,             Einstein Driver Kiki is a Chinese kid;
Archbishop Paul, if they have to go straight forward
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Problems are the gateway to death;               Oh Add Screenshots
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in Trade Fairs 2 Lagoon Products; Proof proof and;             Good
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                                     Yo, throughout
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that is where they are
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in the wings of Women Better ...  Asal 2, Einstein's
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"Oh, me Seth,            we're doing something February 2 On the ships;
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To search time;                            |        We can travel on trips during the War,
if they need more CA; FROM AND GREAT,
      Instead of T - 1 THOSE
ONE ONLY THE PEOPLE,                                                       And these are
AND REFERENCE, Where are some intestines,
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In the meantime;          These men, who are many there, tall.
In breast cancer Breast cancer is limited
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Alarms 1 In the picture Clock Clock Clock
                                           Day Day Day in the Bows Now NO Women in ...

— The End —