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#cooking
Tammy wynette never sang about this Daddy ***** another woman while I burn American flags in the kitchen there's blood on the tv we have football for supper the sad thing about being a woman is turning out just like your mother killed by men long before we die I may be many things but ill never be a wife
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5h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 8:30 PM UTC
Tammy wynette
I make soup exactly like my mother did. Too much parsley. Too much care. Enough food for an accidental village. Nobody teaches men this part about grief: how domestic it becomes. You inherit gestures. Tastes. Ways of cutting onions. Sometimes I stir soup and suddenly remember her wrists. Not even her face. Just wrists moving through kitchen light. Memory is strange and disrespectful. Outside, Belgrade is gray and expensive. Inside, steam on windows. Jazz low in the background. My friend sleeping on the couch after heartbreak. Of course he came to me. Apparently I look like someone who keeps extra blankets for emotional emergencies. The soup helps. Not completely. Nothing completely helps. But people become softer after eating. More honest. Which is maybe all cooking ever was: a small interruption of loneliness. One day I will make this soup for someone I love. He will ask me why there is so much parsley. And I will say: “My mother.” And he will not ask anything else. That is the entire point of having a kitchen. That is the entire point of surviving.
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May 3
May 3, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC
Sunday Soup
~for shell~ the doctor wants world peace. ok not too much to ask for, I guess, by the just in case that’s a little late e~arriving so, just letting you know she enjoys cooking too; scratch any human (99.999%) you’ll scratch a gourmand gourmet a lover of food mmmm wonder if that could somehow be connected to, world peace? 😉 wink, and et un salut 😑 fini
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Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 4:18 AM UTC
Cooking too.
I am hurting, covered in salty feelings This, pit- in my (rib)cage pierced by your kitchen knife, this hole in my(heart) body, this emptiness left filled in with starch Season me well, you SNAKE! make me pretty... beat me till I'm tender... drown me in sauces to hide my bitter taste... you would never, let your POISON go to waste Turn UP the heat! "to 360 degreesss" BURN ME RIGHT TO HELL WHY DON'T YOUSss !! Cook me up, you SNAKE... because, nothing, can hide the poison you saved COOK ME UP I HOPE my rage fuels the fire of your DEMISE! I want it back- I want the time- the effort- the money- the tears... I want it all back I'm angered by their audacity, to try, to hurt me The people I held so dear, I spent three! MEANINGLESS YEARS! Of three friends, who treated me like roadkill- Cook me up for Chinese New Year why don't you Hang me on a wall to dry for "next" spring Put me over the fireplace to roast for your unbelievably... greedy! "human" feelings... I say with seething anger The feelings that made my eyes fuel the pools of your ego, the delusion of Your perfect image, the ghost of who I believed you were... I will no longer fall for your petty lies, your innocent smiles, and pleading cries Your both snakes and you know it So cook me up, But nothing can hide the bitter side Of your CYANIDE
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Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 1:27 AM UTC
COOK ME UP! YOU DESPICABLE SNAKE!!!
first, the dry ingredients puff of smoke cough a lung then, the wet stuff fold in your love mix in your life beat in your blood let it sizzle let it sit when the heat settles what have you done
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Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 12:52 AM UTC
bake
Five bucks an hour. Scrubbing filth from steel. Hands shaking. Stomach knotting. Head buzzing with withdrawal. Friday night restaurant. Busy as flies in a barnyard. Boss barking. Her “perfect technique.” Step outside. Cigarette in hand. Walk home. Pennsylvania gray streets. I’m a stranger here.
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Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 7:27 PM UTC
Dishwater Dreams
There's a man who's been called obese His size, it plays hell with his knees He blames water retention But fails to mention He's addicted to food cooked in grease.
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Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 7:47 AM UTC
Obese issues
Money given, transaction completed. Deep down all I feel Is defeated. For I had his attention for a mere second But a "mere" second is not recommended. For I desperately desire your entire mind, Because my sad reality Is that you have mine. Walking away frustrated...flustered, why bother flirting If all you were going to offer was mustard? Sitting far enough to steal my glances. Sure to never blow the cover I have planted. watching you smile while making my food, forcing you to do something for me...how shrewd. Ah the first bite a toast, A toast to the idea of love that never existed, expect inside the food that I had insisted. All this yearning Is making my fries taste twisted.
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Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 3:31 PM UTC
Cooking On My Heart
my husband's edition. serves: zero. prep time depends on how long it takes to ruin good produce. ignore the recipe notes, yet follow everything, measure with a scale. somehow still oversalt, add enough pepper to weaponize the broth. let it simmer, thicken, until you’re questioning your methods. when its texture turns from soup to sponge, try to rescue it with store-bought cream and forty-five minutes later, hovering between uber and just eat, plate it with a hint of regret and the admittance of defeat.
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Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 4:54 PM UTC
leek and potato soup.
The *** never worries about its shine, but only if the chef can stir more than heat. Good looks can season the eyes, but flavor fades quickly if the soul isn’t fed. Jewels on the counter don’t make a meal— the scars of the pan prove it’s lived through fire. A recipe isn’t written in gold, but in burns, in the scrapes, and in hands that keep cooking. So dress the kitchen however you please, but know this: the worth of what you serve is weighed in the scars you carry, not the shine you polish. And now I ask— __which kind of *** are you__?
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Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 12:09 PM UTC
The *** and the Cook
Watching old Anthony Bourdain and I hope the uneaten food gets donated to his staff like how the great feasts of young King Henry VIII got thrown to poor, after He had a bite or two of foie gras done 12 ways Never mind After all that's happened Tony should be beatified I remember laying on the floor of my parent's room when I couldn't get to sleep in middle school and we'd watch a back to back block of No Reservations on a 13 inch box TV on their nightstand The next thing we knew, people grew more open for a time Wegmans' got sushi, and Dad loves it The parents weren't so ashamed of the city they fled to the 'burbs from, just for a second Took them to a bespoke restaurant during pride month and they thought it was a gay bar just because they flew a rainbow flag out front They grew to welcome it for a few years at least Thanks Tony Wish you were here and I had more to say about that than a ******* postcard script Your voice is still echoed in my house on an endless nightmare streaming channel kept on mostly for my chiweenie You'd be horrified, but still I know your take could help reinvigorate our hope in a connected world today
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Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 4:35 PM UTC
Little Coffees and Cakes
I like to cook, To cut and to chop, Follow a recipe? I think the **** not. I guess and I taste As I go along, Each meal is different, Every seasoning strong. A pan so hot With its sizzling sound, Don’t come in my kitchen- My chaos all around. The water is boiling, Steam clouds the air, There’s flour on my face, Chili powder in my hair. Everyone knew It was my turn to cook dinner, Music blasting loud- Master chef sinner. I sing off-key While I stir the *** But it smells delicious, And that’s what I’ve got. When it’s all done, I plate it so nicely, A centering ritual That sometimes feels wifely.
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Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
A Pinch of Chaos
The mean old man, he’s serving food. I’m not a fan of how he’s rude. His angry voice and bitter way, give me no choice but stay away. I dare not feel his rotten soul. Such icy steel just takes its toll. If I avoid while he prepares, I’m less annoyed in vile he shares. And so I wait for him to go. And play with fate I do not know.
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 2:29 PM UTC
The bitter chef
Don’t reconcile with a rebel, If you’re scared to run with rebellion. Don’t you try and cook, If you’re scared of being burnt. The trampling feet of warriors, And the licking flames of devotion, Will cast your foolish soul to the ocean.
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Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 2:44 PM UTC
Don’t Dare
Mangonadas for dinner, or maybe just a snack. Cooking isn’t my forte— an unfortunate skill to lack. But when I was a child, my brother caught on fire. He leaned against the stove as if it were his pyre. Falling to the floor, he stopped and dropped and rolled— and luckily for him the fire was controlled. I ran upstairs in terror! I screamed and I cried! I thought I’d lost my brother— I thought that he would die. Lifting up his shirt, he showed his big, black scar— Such a drastic contrast I could see it from afar. Anxiety came in, and never did I learn to cook myself dinner— too afraid to burn…
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Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 12:55 AM UTC
Mangonadas For Dinner
An electric connection, Between my mind, And my fingers. I moved to wash my hands, As the water froze fresh from the faucet, My hands began to spark and fry. Now I have frost burn, In my electric skin, From washing my hands in Michael's kitchen. Now I'm wishing, I never needed to make solid soup, I could've stayed wet, Contrary enough for my body's technology.
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Jan 17, 2025
Jan 17, 2025 at 10:35 AM UTC
Abstract Reenactment Of Baking Soup
Alexa Enya oven rain tumble drier cats washing machine
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Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 7:39 PM UTC
a moment in the kitchen
I flip the pancake over like you've flipped my love for you. The skillet hot with butter and a splash of oil. The batter becomes thick, flattening on one side raising before falling. The edges becoming crisp, a mix of heart and soul and all the simple, consistent consideration in between. When I am alone, I can make the perfect pancake. But when someone is watching, I flip the batter too soon. The circle is broken, and the batter bakes unevenly on the skillet. It still doesn't take away from the taste. Sometimes, I still feel like a fool. All it takes is the heat of reciprocation whether the spatula is cheap or expensive. I eat it anyway, just like you've flipped my love for you. I brought a better spatula. I'll drizzle you in butter and syrup, and eat until I can't anymore.
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Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 2:24 AM UTC
Cheap Spatula
" Forged by Mom's tender hands, In the fiery lair of the kitchen where I was once a squire. We swayed our aprons like a hero’s cape, Bravely marched through the crucible’s draconic breath. We unsheathed our wooden spatulas, Raised our mighty metallic forks, And lined our legion of spices, ready to make the dish. Like witches, We simmered the water with salt from the Baltic Sea, And oil procured from the labyrinth of shelves. As we waited for it to rattle with bubbles, Our sweat poured like the pasta we threw, While we smacked our iron pan into the horns of the oven. It screeched an ear-piercing clang, And we retaliated with our hearts beating a battle cry as we started for war. My general ordered me to lay a grease trap. Minutes passed; it sizzled, The pan fired back boiling oil, But we stood like walls—unyielding, fierce. Brave onions leapt into the fray, Sacrificing themselves, leaving us to grieve in tears As the battle raged on. The onion’s bittersweet, crispy breath inspired the garlic to follow, Crackling in courage as it joined the heat. Soon, bacon met the fire— Crisping, releasing the smoky guardian from the labyrinth’s depth, While mushrooms from the Elven forest charged in the clash. The holy grail of Filipino-style Carbonara sauce rained on the battlefield, Uniting the fallen, boiling *** and all, Turning the *** into a smooth, white, creamy ocean with a steaming, smoky, crisp aroma. We scooped our pasta water and drained the rest, Baptized the *** with silky, snake-like pasta, Adorned it with grainy black pepper, And sprinkled it with golden cheese, A finishing touch for our dish. We cheered in victory as we prepared the feast, Our kingdom rejoiced in tears at each slurp and each lick of our savoury dish. As laughter echoed and stories flowed, Mom crowned me the Carbonara knight, A token of triumph for a job well done. " -Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
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Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 4:05 PM UTC
Kitchen Odyssey: Carbonara
" Forged by Mom's tender hands, In the fiery lair of the kitchen where I was once a squire. We swayed our aprons like a hero’s cape, Bravely marched through the crucible’s draconic breath. We unsheathed our wooden spatulas, Raised our mighty metallic forks, And lined our legion of spices, ready to make the dish. Like witches, We simmered the water with salt from the Baltic Sea, And oil procured from the labyrinth of shelves. As we waited for it to rattle with bubbles, Our sweat poured like the pasta we threw, While we smacked our iron pan into the horns of the oven. It screeched an ear-piercing clang, And we retaliated with our hearts beating a battle cry as we started for war. My general ordered me to lay a grease trap. Minutes passed; it sizzled, The pan fired back boiling oil, But we stood like walls—unyielding, fierce. Brave onions leapt into the fray, Sacrificing themselves, leaving us to grieve in tears As the battle raged on. The onion’s bittersweet, crispy breath inspired the garlic to follow, Crackling in courage as it joined the heat. Soon, bacon met the fire— Crisping, releasing the smoky guardian from the labyrinth’s depth, While mushrooms from the Elven forest charged in the clash. The holy grail of Filipino-style Carbonara sauce rained on the battlefield, Uniting the fallen, boiling *** and all, Turning the *** into a smooth, white, creamy ocean with a steaming, smoky, crisp aroma. We scooped our pasta water and drained the rest, Baptized the *** with silky, snake-like pasta, Adorned it with grainy black pepper, And sprinkled it with golden cheese, A finishing touch for our dish. We cheered in victory as we prepared the feast, Our kingdom rejoiced in tears at each slurp and each lick of our savoury dish. As laughter echoed and stories flowed, Mom crowned me the Carbonara knight, A token of triumph for a job well done. " -Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
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43
Rrrrrrramən n°○°●•○●•dles are °•●○dləs and ○°•●dles of n●°○•dləs, ●○°•○•●°dles.
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Jul 28, 2024
Jul 28, 2024 at 9:12 PM UTC
Oodles of Noodles
Mystery Meat You'll find it sometimes in what you eat. What it is, you might ask? It's Mystery Meat! Smells kinda weird, and looks just like **** I don't want a dollop. No, not even a scoop. I don't even want it in Mystery Soup.
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Apr 22, 2023
Apr 22, 2023 at 10:29 AM UTC
Mystery Meat
or EGGSISTENTIALISM I put eggs in a *** with some water to cook turned the heat up to hot then the egg-timer took and I gave it a spin so the sand was on top and an aperture, thin, let the grains start to drop like a little landslide that just in a short while had begun spreading wide from a conical pile then I saw myself there in the egg timer's glass and returned my own glare just to fill the impasse but my face looked obscure seeming bulbous and stout with my chin on the floor and my brow at the spout as the sand tumbled south to the hour-glass base down my nose to my mouth just like tears on my face then I had this strange thought as I took an egg cup of how time can run short while it's filling right up now a thousand yard stare in those eyes, I could see existential despair facing infinity they left no room to doubt that we'd both been misled that time doesn't run out - it falls right on your head 'til you're buried alive with a mouthful of grit you might think you'll survive but it's not prone to quit then your eggs are all done time's caught up and been spent by the end of the run your not sure where it went but time waits for no man that much can't be denied so boiled eggs? change of plan - in the end had them fried.
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Dec 3, 2022
Dec 3, 2022 at 5:02 AM UTC
BOILED EGGS & EXISTENTIALISM
# *Twin glasses of orange juice, froth quietly fizzling out A plate of turkey bacon piled overzealously high* I would cook you French toast every day, if you'd let me. *Fresh croissants from a bakery down the street Halved strawberries drizzled with honey* I'll sprinkle cinnamon in our coffee, just like my grandmother used to. I don't know much of love, but I know this: When the sun breaks through my kitchen window, I hope you'll be sitting at the table. #
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Nov 17, 2022
Nov 17, 2022 at 4:14 PM UTC
sunday morning
abused aromas fuse the dwelling throats slacken and tighten good cooking can make a home a rooted clut of tallow home          sweaty home ignite another cigarette scrape a fingernail on the sofa a white grippy trail scrunch your toes in the deep greasy carpet and salivate on the wender of smoke from the cooking of the roast
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Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 11:38 AM UTC
tack