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Bhill Jul 2019
Who out there has beans in their ears
The beans could be brains, they don't make it clear

Where did they come from, I want to know
Will they come out, I really hope so

Are the beans put there by your very own Teacher
I don't think so, maybe it was the Preacher

Are they put there for any kind of cause
Who knows for sure, it makes one take pause

I know I was told not to put them there
That's all I remember, I thought I would share....!

Brian Hill - 2019 # 179
This song is real people...
Who remembers?
Who remembers this ****?
Karen M Jun 2019
Owning a cat relies on give and take.
I give the beans a tiny squeeze and
she takes a chunk of my skin.
I love her but oh my gosh my arms are littered in little scars.
Anastasia Jun 2019
beans in my shoes
beans in my pockets
she put beans
even inside my locket
i don't know why
she likes beans so much
she says they're good to eat
and nice to touch
she's kinda strange

beans in my bed
beans on my head
she really likes beans
i guess i'll have to deal with it
but only coz i love her
u will have to deal with it
SJ Vandegrift May 2019
III

A Wizard stumbled on a sea

a sea froze by Winter's lung,

blowing all Winter long.

Beneath the ice, decayed

it was a great giant Whale,

as dead as a giant doornail.

The Wizard swallowed him whole

and coughed him up into a bowl

of warm creamy oatmeal.

Inside he writhed, simply alive,

revived, he was, of all his death

the whole oats returned life's breath.

"The sea is not your home, Whale"

The Wizard then kindly said:

"A giant tank was where you were bred."

Looking the Whale in the eye, he continued:

"I will place you here, my friend, instead..."

and he stuffed him into his library head.
Guden Sep 2018
A videogame told me to be a dictator,
A great warrior.
Reality wanted me to be a great thinker,
A doer,
Someone who's not afraid
Of the shadows of a lamp.
Mother told me to clean my room
And get a woman
Who's nice,
Like her
Towards her.
Father told me nothing
As I waited for my brother;
When he hated all,
Dad saw me
Too late.
The tv told me many things
And here I was,
Like the beans of all flavors,
Said Harry.
Compared to his life
Mine is a trip.
Poetic T Jan 2018
Where all flavours in life,
                                   never does one taste the same.
but some are similar, close friends that are shades
so varied  but tastes just slightly different from the other.
We think we no choice to our flavour of life.

We think where all trapped within a vacuum of a world
where we think we have  no choice
                                                       but to be either this or that.
But where all different flavours that have more choice
than we realise. we just have to look outside the Jar.

Finding that even though were enclosed,
                  that we don't have to be just one flavour in life,
that we can be a mixture of varieties.
No one has to taste the same life is never just
              Blue,
                         Green, or Orange,
Were what ever flavour we wish, ever changing in life.
Zero Nine Apr 2017
I devour poison, love is another chunk of curdled milk in the fridge behind the wilted greens. We never eat them. There are pounds and miles of beans, I'm sure, rotting, stuck in the drain into our kitchen.
What we have, our entire foundation, is filth from the days we wish we'd rather not recall or speak, but are cursed, jinxed, sharing seas of sorrow, sharing a bed in the open.
Were I not so fixated on macabre thoughts and photographs, were I not so jaded by what I've had, I'd respect the grace incoming in unfamiliar forms.
I devour poison, and you poison of your own. We share this sickness, starstruck with each others' bile and refuse. Eating disease.
.....
Äŧül Feb 2016
More than any other food item,
Rajma chaawal can brighten my day up,
Bring back to my lips a lost smile,
Kidney beans is rajma and rice is the chaawal.

A different flavour tickles my taste buds,
Divine is this taste vegetarian,
Few are not so lucky to have tasted it ever,
It should be declared the national food of the kitchen north Indian.
My HP Poem #1029
©Atul Kaushal
Rip Lazybones Jun 2015
Small and full of taste
Something I advise that you not waste
They come in many colours
Green, red, black, brown, white, yellow
There's a type for any guy or fellow
Some taste better and some are better for you
Some are bigger and some are small
Genetics is not fair after all
It isn't about making them all the same
But to appreciate each as they came
Mix with vegetables or eat them plain
Just savour them at a pace that is slow
Because they take a while to grow
Don't ya know
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