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LLillis Jul 10
The dough spins above,
Launched from floured hands, they wait.
Curse that ceiling fan.
Pizza making is a lot of fun. Except when you underestimate exactly how high you can toss a dough. least it’s spinning!
Nat Lipstadt Jul 8
“of late, I have been falling in and out of love with words.” (Pradip)

Dear Pradip,

yeah had them symptoms too, pizza and penicillin, lost my sense of taste and smell, but neither helped, guessing gets tougher, when older, all those associated, assorted, amazing never ending, abracadabra, baptismal-bathing-broadening, buttered-up jobs & responsibilities when your suddenly taller by a new generational addition to the family tree, which means much more concerning, burning worrying words, you dare not say aloud, cause Shiva is too interested, and has too many arms, in interfering with your many small pieces of composure in pandemic days.

Sorry, buddy got no solution, maybe rubbing alcohol, maybe hard liquor, prayers on knees to a 57 variety of deities, try a different temple, start the week on a Wednesday, learn to rhumba, practice meditation way out loud, be annoyingly concerned bout everybody else, offer to do all the kids homework, buy the wife a new dress so you can have an argument regarding wasting money, so you can kiss and make up, heck and ****, you could even write crazy words in any order your personal dictionary commands, reorganizing them in reverse order, and then slapdash them together and call it stew,

don’t matter as long as you got the jaw jawing, the eyes winking, the people looking at you like you gone cuckoo mad, tell your children how much you love them in the middle of day, wave to a neighbor across the street, the gossipy one who always spying on you, sing some cowboy ***-on-little-doggie lullabies, interspersing a Yellow Submarine, croon A Long and Winding Road, and Do Not Forget to include Let It Be, preach with a whang damnastic fever to the street peddlers, then ask for a better price, by now your not-so-well repute will precede you, everyone be offering a cool drink, or hot tea, fresh paneer, really big discounts, the most comfy chair, asking what else ya need, tell ‘em a pen and some paper, please, and everyone will be relieved! cause you back to merely, plain, ordinary crazy, simply composing that wonderful poetry you love to
w r i t e
and everything is
r i g h t
in the world.

other than that, got no consoling words. Sorry.


The Natster
Anais Vionet Jul 2
I stumble pajamaed, half asleep toward the object of my desire.
in memory, it calls to me, of passionate pleasures experienced prior.
The morning's night is the consummate time for secret rondeaus discrete.
With ninjaly sneak I arrive at the door - my illicit joy within reach.
But to my horror I find the pizza gone - again, my trust is breached!
a humous look at lust... and pizza
Nigdaw Apr 23
do you want anything
from the shops
she said
it used to be pizza and beer
nowadays just
you home safely
my love
Bernard Apr 11
I told her about the pizza place
The one I bought in a dream

"We'll meet there in our dreams"
What a promise
"I'll make the dough, you'll choose the toppings"
What a programme

"We'll meet" she said
"We'll meet" she repeated
Again and again
Until she stopped

Now she meets another one in her dreams
What a let down
Carlo C Gomez Jan 17
Today I got taken out
of my box and nuked
for a dizzy-filled eight minutes,
all my artificial byproducts,
and something close to,
but not quite called, meat
melted and congealed together
in a semi-appetizing way,
just enough to be consumed
in a famished **** of teeth,
gums, and spittle,
and here I now sit in a pit
--purgatory's gut--
dreaming I was made of real
pepperoni and sausage,
running free in the open fields
of DiGiorno.
Inspired by the poem "Monologue of What Was Once a Sunkist Orange" from fellow HP writer Yacov Mitchenko, which is a really good poem by-the-way.
ConnectHook Dec 2019
Jimmy Savile
Edward Heath
Ghislaine Maxwell
Dennis Hastert
Jeffrey Epstein
William Clinton
Harvey Weinstein
Alpha apex
First letter of the law
Cornerstone and capstone
Novus Ordo Unum Eye . . .

Have a nice conspiracy theory.
That ol’ letter ***
Jay M Nov 2019
Four seated
In a pizza place
Sharing a pizza
Cheesy and delicious
New York style
Talk between bites

Reaching for the Parmesan
The table slides
Hits one of them
Right in the gut

Pizza drops
Back on the paper plate
Grease splattering
Eyes wide
Heads turn
Bodies shift in their seats
To see the sound
Strange noise
From the little table
Table of four

Laughing it off
All things resume
They continue to eat
That greasy, cheesy pizza

Talk of life
Current events
Bites of pizza
Two slices left
Split and taken
Being eaten

The table
So killer
Slides to one
Hitting their gut
Making them grunt

Pizza drops
Heads turn
Bodies shift
Movement from all about
The pizza place
Eyes fall upon them

Then the table is fixed
Then the pizza
Cheesy and greasy
Is devoured
Talk goes on
All resumes

After a time
The four leave
Cleaning up their trash
And leaving behind
That killer table.

- Jay M
November 28th, 2019
My mom, sister, my friend Cadence and I went to Bronx pizza the other night for dinner. The table slid to our guts twice, and we made a joke about "the killer table". So, I said I'd write a poem about it. Here it is. :)
Hailey Nov 2019
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I love pineapple pizza more than I do you.
Our days roll away like dropped coins.
Individual moments are continually lost,
Often never to be reflected upon again.
But the epochs of a full life remain,
Safeguarded by the cushions of our couch,
Waiting for when we are in need of a treat.
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