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Noah's Yellow Arches

Once upon a time when people lived long
Men walked with god but something went wrong
God spoke to Noah upset by the violence
Both men were solemn consumed by a silence

At the end of the almighty's speech
Noah imagined the heights he could reach
His family were chosen to start a clean slate
A flood would be coming from the heavens of hate

His sons were engaged to build a boat
A vessel unimagined by the average bloke
They sawed through timber from dawn till it dusked
A death warrant signed, they kept it all hushed

They gathered a brace of every fair beast
And harvested grain for the meagrest feast
They bound it in cypress and raised a roof
The Ark set sail in search of the truth

For forty long nights and for forty dark days
Rain fell from the sky in tumultuous ways
The deserts were soaked, valleys were drowned
All others perished and Noah was crowned

He walked to the deck saw doves in the sky
A wry sense of irony crept from his eye
A feeling rose up in this most pious a man
Why was he chosen to manage this plan?

He sat sea sick and contemplative
The new most important original native
As his pride bubbled his confidence grew
He thought himself king, with ideas a new

Why have i toiled in the mud and the rain
Working for a god who is both fickle and vain
He tells me he loves me then leaves us in drought
My children catch fevers my crops never sprout

He spoke to his keeper an old Mr Macdonald
he'd served him for years with his trusty son Ronald
when we make land our new life will be sweet
because I'm in charge now and were gonna eat

no more will we plan for a balanced tomorrow
we'll gorge ourselves on all we can swallow
these beasts we hold captive will never be free
we'll farm them so quickly to stupidity

Start with the chickens they've had too much space
pack them in cages then hormonally lace
imagine twenty thousand in one small field
we'll fatten our bellies on the omelettes they yield

of course some will perish before they can breed
so grind those ones back into chicken feed
don't worry about size or when you should slaughter
to make up the difference we'll pump em with water

Now as you all know my favourite is beef
the succulent flavour of steak through the teeth
for this will require the clearing of trees
'the end of all forests' I'll sign the decrees

But Noah what about the bats and the frogs
get to work Ronald and chop me some logs
by the way boss we'll need more grain
the cattle eat half its hard to sustain

The chemicals used might pollute not please
and there's always the chance of mad cow disease
Dont worry my boys i've thought all this through
on both bats and frogs there's little to chew

the grass we'll genetically alter its code
keep all the seeds so no one should know
the illness will be named variently
call it something fun like human cjd

enough of your moaning i want this thing branded
not talking pokers, I want yellow arches clown handed
I want plastic wrapped around toys in a box
I want diabetes disguised as a healthy detox

I don't care for soil and fuck the oceans
not even bothered about factory explosions
as long as the workers are fat or obese
their children are stupid and easy to fleece

Noah stood defiant as the Ark hit the shore
he clenched at his chest his left arm was sore
Ronald enquired about a subsidiary
Noah's heart exploded he died in the sea
Ronald opened his doors in 1940.
It's amazing what can come from a board and a knife,
delicious creations bring happiness to Life.
A stove and some dishes, vegetables, and meat,
all come together to make those great treats.
Fruit and dairy, all parts of a whole,
and who can forget those buttery rolls?
Savory sensations, and sugary sweets,
make cooking a joy but it's still not complete.
The ones that you create with, and share every slice,
with sugar and spice, make everything nice.
If we all work together and we all will pitch in,
"Our food is good" for we are the kitchen.

"Food is essential to life, therefore make it good."
                                             -S. Truett Cathy
slay 6d
Pleasure remains, but so does the pain, I’m going insane

Are you talking to me? Nah, I don’t think so
Are you asking me if I am mad at the world?
Well I’ll have to think, I guess, maybe? I know!
But I really can’t hear you, I have in headphones
Can we take a break? Cause I gotta smoke
Yes, and each one, it is killing me slow
Well technically fast,
E-R the better
I’d love to be deader than how I feel right now in my guts on the inside
Black tar suffocating the fluids inside of my spine —
Bitch, you are a dime
And you should hit me up we should chill once or twice before I gotta bounce, spread my wings, and take flight

Pleasure remains, but so does the pain, I’m going insane

“Why you so guarded?” Can’t get this enough
Please shut the fuck up, my feelings are stuck
I can’t get enough of the dick from the plug
To put me in a coma from smoking too much
Every time I come thru, I water his buds
He got that good good
that fefe
that neek neek
that Tiffany’s caking
Iced out in my pudding
One stroke peanut buttercupping
Lights out with the hard chocolate molding

Pleasure remains, but so does the pain, I’m going insane
i just wrote this omg imstill working on it
I fought the overwhelming sensation to let sleep take me last night,
Through lies and deceit my blinking eyes brought tears,
There is no place safe to scream in a crowded room,
Even in the places that society can only explain though means of light and dark,
You are not invisable
On mornings I wake up to a volume of busy loneliness,
A mundane blending of actions and last night thoughts,
The pause during an explanation leaves room to lose control...
This tear calls for more than a friend,
Yet that's what I find in every smile,
Every passing of the locomotive distracts from the truth y'all are hearing(reading)
It's okay,
I'm okay,
There is so much more for us to discuss,
But I can't be sure your attention span cares,
So join me in this lonely ramble,
Leave with the mind wandering, talking jibberish,
Critique, criticize, separate me from you,
Listen close to your reasons,
Because I'm going through them too,
So don't you dare judge me,
I only ask you to tell those thoughts about me and you,
I'll be over in the corner waiting for them to show up and become engaged,
I want to exist because of you.
hello out there
Ek Shehar hai mere yaaro ka,
Yaha har koi deewana hai,
Yaha har koi parwana hai,
Lamhe jiye jaate hai yaha,
Lamhe piye jaate hai yaha,
Jitne fasle hai ek duje se,
Utni hi nazdikiyan bhi,
Har ek ki apni duniya jarur hai,
Magar wo duniya ek duje se juda nahi,
Har din ek naya din hai yaha,
Har din ek nayi chunauti hai yaha,
Log izzat dikhate nahi,
Izzat karte hai yaha,
Pal me rootey hai yaha,
Pal me hastey hai waha,
Befikar mauj me rahte hai sabhi,
Baat dilo ki kahte hai sabhi,
Yun toh bahut kuch unkaha bhi hai yaha,
Magar ankhon se toh bayan kar hi dete hai,
Dastan-e-takleef aur dastan-e-mohabbat,
Aur ek khasiyat hai iss shehar ki,
Khanna yaha beshumaar hai,
Log khaate aur khilate hai dil khol kar,
Khoobsurati rooh me dikhti hai yaha,
Musafir aate hai iss shehar me,
Aur tham jaate hai yaha,
Yaha ke ho kar reh jaate hai,
Aur jab aata hai waqt shehar se jaane ka,
Toh maano paav yeh aage badhte hi nahi, kisike….
To my best friends
Steve Page Sep 9
(Voice of the Swan by Eric Idle from Monty Python.)

Don't you ignore me,
I could break your arm you know.
I could cut you down with a well placed puncture wound.
I've got important friends, oh yes,
I'M protected by royal statute.
Oh, I see, NOW I have your attention.
NOW you're taking notice.
Well, just you listen,
you might get away with your cheek with those common Mallards,
but don't think it will wash with me.
Now, give me some of that there cake
and perhaps I'll leave you be.
From an exercise at a poetry meet up in London's Southbank. We were shown a picture of a swan straining it's neck up towards the bank. I imagined some cake out of shot.

Dog days of summer
How doth thou steal
Sweet blackberry plunder
How will I ever heal?

Cars passed fast
breeze swishes trees
As if spirits
Floating so free

A whisper they hiss
run faster than fastest
to grocery store produce bliss
give those blackberries
                                  a little kiss
Steve Page Sep 7
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed.

We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads.

We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above.

Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain.

We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand.

We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize.

Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
With thanks to Poetry Journal for the inspiration. And, yes, I acknowledge it's not poetic.  But it was fun to write.
Eno Sep 5
7 lives
Some were breaking
Now riding the wave
Others were drowning
Now swimming up and away
There’s secrets cleaning the tables
Unanswered questions serving food
And I cannot comprehend the distance

Between me



We began in tandem
Building this great pyramid
A myriad of hope
Block by block
Carried by our journey to discover new lands
Off the shores of collective success
Some higher than others;
All in it.
With smiles
And parties
Tears and fears
Winding along and around
Working intensely
Loving concepts, people, food
It was just good business
They say...

3 years on
Time sweeps our intricate
Fast paced
Warped and winning
Bodies and brains
Under, once more,
The same old roof -
Oh my, how things have changed

Those men who were ringing the bells
Calling the shots
Trail scandals behind them
Like pieces of toilet paper
Still attached to their shiny, worn out shoes
Are we a pleasant reminder of a band of brothers in arms
A loyal family of resilient workers
Who played a note or two in your orchestrated dream?
Rather I fear
It’s much the opposite
Although we were greeted like old friends
With lopsided smiles of nostalgia
In the pit of my stomach
(The one you used to feed)
It just seemed like we were evidence of ghostly shame
An unwelcome reminder of a past which tried to swallow them up for dinner
A quiet embarrassment
That knew it did not deserve us
Like a lover who had tried to move on
When we’d decided to move in next door
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