When I was coming up
momma and daddy both said
"Finish your plate, son.  Eat the rest!"
More often than not there'd be something
I didn't like, or didn't like enough
and momma or daddy one would say
"Finish your plate.  Eat the rest!"

I'd eat a little more, ask to be excused,
momma or daddy would see my remnants
"Eat the rest, child!  Eat the rest!"
I'd eat a bit more. "May I be excused?"
"Listen to me, son, you best eat the rest!"
So I'd sit there, pitiful like, and eat the rest.

Reflecting on this, I am keenly aware
proponents on both sides argue 'beware'
Forcing a child to always finish their plate
can lead to obesity's worrisome fate
But letting them stop whenever they want
selfishly teaches life's lessons to flaunt

It doesn't matter which side you're on
I'll agree with you so let's move on
There's a deeper darker side to this
that I need to mention lest I be remiss
After year's of being told to eat the rest
is it possible I actually consumed "my rest"?

The rest I seek when I try to take a nap
The rest I pursue when I wear my CPAP
The rest that eludes me at work or at play
The question my wife asks me every day:

"Honey, were you able to get any rest?"

No, dear.  When I was a kid, I was forced to
finish my plate and eat the rest, so there's
none to be found.  I done ate it all.




© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.

There! Right there in the middle!
                 You see it? 102.91!

Goodbye starless nights,
Goodbye rainy days
I’m setting off to Rhodes
-an Island full of grace

Breath-in the sunlight,
See a windmill blowing
through the sea
The shore is out of sight,

The sun goes down
-it’s my turn now
Sings preciously the night

Symi! Hidden place of
secret gardens-
Breakfast by the sea,
A kiss of time
A fool, laughing on a tree

Will I ever reach that bee?
Or shall I sit and listen
In my tower
Laughing on my olive tree...

Symi! Will it ever get so close?
See a saw and drink a drink
seek a bee and find a templar
town, Fascio di combattimento
cause....

Rhodes! Morning starts with
croissant
Afternoon continues-
musique d'ameublement

Rhodes! Island full of windy
nights
cloudless skies,
Sands and mystic sights

Desert rose,
A kiss of time
A fool ageing on a tree

Will I ever catch that bee?
Or shall I stay and listen
to the waves
never found my home,
the home of many fates
                                the sea.....

In the linoleum dungeon
Sparkling swiffer creature
Squirts the floor
Calls polyphemic odors
Opening

And the crazy stench of allspice
Biting lime and draconian breath
Burning the nostril coins
Copper shield bending the cilia
Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals
Of yesteryear
Unclear
She speaks between steaming inspirations

Hoo-huh

Exhale the fire

It's'a hotta pasta lasagna
As the helicopters flap their handy rotories
Fast fractal birds
In circumfereferential motion
Cool down our mouths
Ice cubes in the juice
Plop a shot of gin
With that silly child's grin

And the room slowly cants
Begins to spin
As we laugh at the spots we cannot
Pin

Staring at the stellar mountain chains
Thrusted stone
Busted metal
Stabbing up into the sky
Competition

Where is the home beyond the horizon
Where we ate good meals
Not made alone
With parental guidance
As the days were stolen
By the erosive time
That spinning wheel

Well,

It's deep in us now
And the cells metastasized
Realized
That heaven is hell.