Taste the world;
with every dish
that brings such a bliss.

Let your receptors explore,
the burning sensation of spice;
the tingling sensation of sour.

Allow your tongue to be coated
in the cotton candy sweetness.

Take crusty bites between your teeth
letting it explode into a thousand little pieces -
dancing inside your mouth.

Allow the citrusy undertones
to trigger serotonin
and curve the edges of your mouth.

Allow your brain to relish
your taste buds to embellish
as your hunger diminishes.

When I agreed to work for room and board, I was told that it would be good.
But the boss lied to me about the chow, it wasn't something that I misunderstood.
When I sat down at the table, I thought I was hallucinating but sadly, it was real.
I expected to get hot cakes and bacon and eggs, but all I was given was oatmeal.
I had a hard day's work ahead of me and I certainly deserved better than that.
The boss said I needed to lose weight, he didn't allow his workers to be fat.
I was so angry that I took the oatmeal and dumped it over my employer's head.
I embarrassed him in front of his other employees because his face turned red.
He said that he didn't like fat people and all of his employees had to be slim.
I hit that S.O.B. so hard that he swallowed his false teeth and then I mooned him.
I said "I Quit!" and then I walked out the door.
The other employees were laughing so hard that they were rolling all over the floor.
I will gladly work for room and board but something needs to be understood.
I'll work without pay but I'll kick the employer's *** if the chow isn't any good.

His kiss was the second serving I was to embarrassed to ask for

The ache in my stomach motivates me to keep going
The steadily decreasing number on the scale makes the hunger pains and sleepless nights, the bruises on my vertebrae

I slip up
I cry
The walls close in

The cycle starts again

I navigated
a sea of dumplings
in the heart of Japan
but none of them came close
to that perfect dumpling
I shared with you
in what now seems
like a dream.

My hot steaming coffee
is wafting a beautiful flavour
into my nose
and I feel energised
as I breathe in.
Sipping my coffee
is a delectable experience:
Nutty, fruity, sweet with milk.

My coffee
tastes beautiful,
energises me
and is good milky nutrition.

I just watched a news report:
13 million people are hungry
in the Philippines
and cannot afford three meals a day.
I watched a grandmother
picking through others’ garbage bags
to find food waste:
She found a half-eaten chicken
partially-decomposed
and took it home to feed her grandchildren
for whom she is the sole provider
after her husband died
and as the children’s parents look for work.
The brave responsible grandmother says
“Life is hard”
as she smells the stench of the decomposing chicken
then boils it to **** the bacteria
then fries it with a little onion
to improve the rotten taste.
Her four hungry grandchildren
sit quietly around the small dining table
eating the partially-decomposed chicken.
The heroic grandmother says
“the stench of the food
is something you never get used to
but life is hard
it’s either rotting food
or nothing.”

I was left thinking:
Is there something we can do
to feed the hungry
in the Philippines?
Is there something we can do
to feed the hungry
around the world?

I am drinking
a canary yellow mug of
hot Ceylon black tea
wafting fragrant tea-steam into my nose;
as I sip the tea into my mouth
the water nourishes my thirst and
the hot tea warms my lips, teeth and tongue
and as I swallow
spreads warmth
into my throat
and down across my chest
and into my stomach.
I feel
nourished,
refreshed,
rejuvenated,
warmed-up.

Bread from waxed paper packet
a childhood memory of mum making tea
snow white, thick sliced
fringed with a brown crust
comfortingly heavy, ****** smelling
the butter pleases me
covered under the tub lid
with a coated paper peeled back
to reveal a thick golden slab of
churned cream easily spread, cold
straight from the fridge onto waiting
fibrous surface, allowing it to sink in
cheese in a yellow block, related to
the butter in so many ways, dairy
a long lost brother, sliced thick with
a proper knife with the pointed curved
tip, designed to ***** and pick up
each slice, placing carefully on the bed
prepared for it to rest, ready for the final
ochre coloured element, mustard, from
a glass jar using a teaspoon, to dollop
before resting a second buttered slice
on top to make a creation, a taste sensation

I should eat more.