I had soup today
Tomato flavour to be exact
I asked the sky
Do you want some
The sky replied
No sweetheart
The sun as enough soup
To feed the whole of the day

I made a bowl of soup for myself tonight.
Red bean, kale, and quinoa.
I toasted two slices of bread,
buttered them,
let them cool.
I planned on dunking them
in the soup
to sop up leftover broth.

While the canned food heated
in the red saucepan
on the first burner
to the right,
I did simple tasks.
Recycled bottles from days before,
put away the dishes in the drying rack,
fed the cat.

I paced back and forth,
in my purple socks,
from my bedroom
to the kitchen,
listening to an old record
that sounds like nostalgia.

I did simple tasks.
Small, achievable things.
Self care comes
in many forms.

Carrot and coriander, why are you so pally?
With your 'c' sounding names and you both being edible,
Well I've got news for you boys,
I think you're absolutely terrible.

Carrot and coriander, why are you so pally?
Just because you both like soup and a little bit of season,
It doesn't mean you should be so close, it's not a good enough reason.

Carrot and coriander, why are you so pally?
You hang around in cardboard cartons, talking trash about other ingredients,
Well its just not acceptable boys, and I'm really not feelin' it.

Carrot and coriander, why are you so pally?
People think you're great, with your complementary flavours,
Well I'm sorry boys, think you're tasty? Do me a 'kin favour.

My feelings and thoughts are running in constant loop
They're mixed up and messy like alphabet soup
and the noodles don't clearly spell out L-I-K-E

Just when I think my head's sorted out and right
The word "love" tries to invade in another bite
Ughh! What the hell is up with me?!


Here's a bit of food for thought:
Do I like you or do I not?
I want others to know you're romantically "mine"
but the problem is I'm not romance inclined..



See, things get confusing when platonic and romantic mash
So, irritated, I throw my bowl in the trash

i am the
crockpot
on the
counter hot
above my rubber
bottomed feet that
scrape when
you move me

something's bubbling
around my edges
is it soup
or discontent

how should i know
i'm just the crockpot

something's burning
on my sides
is it chili
or my confines

i can't tell you
i'm just the crockpot

leave me out on weekdays
say you need me
say i'm useful
to keep things warm
all afternoon
but before you know it
touch me and
you'll get burned

liquefied ivory trickles down the drain
picking out lavender to the sound of rain
/
back alley blues from the white picket fence
trade your broken heart for dollars and sense
/
the early morning glow is where uncertainties grow
as we dream our young dreams, static courses below
/
a muted flash of LED lights and i
view them like a dot painting across the night sky
/
please try not to crash your car
pull yourself out of the tar

the sky, a cauldron
steaming soup is getting cooked,
moon, butter floats on.

It wasn't that bad, that trip to the ER,
And my sickness didn't leave a physical scar,
But I must admit I got carried away
While making that soup one fine winter day.
See, my friend went and dared me to make the stuff,
And to this day it could've been a bluff,
But when I am dared, it's a serious matter,
So I started to whip up a little bit of batter.
Right into the fridge, my hands were busy,
Making that soup really got me dizzy.
A fish head, salsa, old dried beans,
Mustard, spinach, and coffee creams.
That glop must have boiled for hours and hours,
And that kitchen, I swear, it needed a shower.
At any rate, I don't yet feel regret,
But I'll tell you right now, the key word is yet,
Because I still have a big medical issue,
And on top of that, no social life, too,
But the occasional heart attack won't make me droop,
Because I loved making and eating that soup.

As the ******* of healing herb
that made the tomato melt in his embrace
forms a perfect circle inside my cup
I sit here reminiscing the warm winter nights
When we would talk of how
I would make you some soup
Every time your body lost a battle with the weather
I reckon how you would draw a reel of our happy future
I sit here in the present, replaying, analyzing the past
And I cannot find one speck of wrongdoing
That pulled you away from me
Why, then, am I seated here, alone
giving in to the changing weather?
The temperature is rising around
But I feel cold and almost empty
Filling myself with hope
And soup

Isn’t it interesting how some people are caught up in their dream world?
Broadcasting “Life Is Good” …unaware of those living in the real world.
Self indulging humans only thinking of themselves,
When there so much they could contribute to those that lack wealth.

For God sake, get off Facebook and make a difference in someone’s life.
Share your heart with them and help them wipe the tears from their eyes.
Put some greenbacks in their pocket; be there often to be a mentor and a best friend.
And maybe someday you’ll help them ascend to the life is good trend.