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Susan N Aassahde Nov 2020
peacock hem
on a baseball pear
a lettuce cries a ladle
Emry Oct 2020
What is this great fruit?
All of life's bounty, in this one root.

The apple of the earth;
From the dirt it doth birth.

Bake, roast, mash,
All else goes to the trash.

The potato's taste is so fine,
Its versatility? Just divine.

*****, fries, tossed in pies,
Potatoes are the best, no compromise.
Yes, I'm aware, the name should be "Ode a las papas." I just thought this sounded nicer.
Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
The rose has thorns because
it cares not to be touched.
Its color is a warning
for animals to stay away.
Its scent is a scream and
not a delight for us to own.
It exists in ****** stillness
bending only for the sun.
The scientist knows this
having heard its sub audible
howl with delicate machines
that probe its roots.
The poet plucks the bloom
unaware of the pain that
created that beauty,
the aroma that shouts
its death to its vegetable kind.
Susan N Aassahde Dec 2019
shuttle loft carrot
penny dent
throttle kettle dive
Susan N Aassahde Dec 2019
parachute clown scout
onion dive
mustard Nebraska whey
Lemon Nov 2019
I'm not sure why but I tried to die
And now I feel all dead inside
Do you know why I tried to die
Or why I feel so dead inside
I always feel all dead inside
Ever since the day I tried
Tried to take away my life
And tried it while holding a knife
I feel so lost looking in this knife
And I don't know why but now I cry
I cry all the lovely lullabies
The lullabies
Oh lovely cries
They sing me to sleep at night
Every night I lay with fright that this may be my last goodnight
The tears fall out and sing about the monsters of our fearful house
This fearful house they sing about leaves hidden sights to see
But once you see you can't turn back or you must wear a shameful hat
The shameful hate oh sinful hat
Why must you not look back
Wearing this hat oh sinful hat why must I sin for you
For sinning brings more fright of this being my last night
I think I know why I must feel so dead inside for I can not express making me a sinful mess
But a sinful mess must not address any real desire for if I do well then it's you who must bear this frightful night
If I no longer bear this dreaded frightful night it will leave me in a quake that I might not survive
A vegetable
A vegetable is what I will become p
And that my friend is worse than feeling oh so numb
I don't know how I started to feel all of these things
But now I know the reason why
I must stay all dead inside
MisfitOfSociety Feb 2019
They’ve taken my arms,
Taken my legs,
Taken my eyes,
Taken my head,
Taken my mind.
Now I am just a vegetable.
An armless,
Legless,
Eyeless,
Headless,
Mindless freak!
Left to rot and decay,
While I can still feel it all slipping away.
Brandon Conway Jul 2018
If I am
ever left
to rely
on a
diet of medication
and
tv static commercials,
unplug me
and
donate me,
being a
crash test cadaver
is at least
useful.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Mothers garden adorned with fleshy fruit
Thus I plucked and ****** at the jocund juice
Branches speckled with luscious loot
A taste so sweet, I propose a tantalizing truce
Immortalize me with nourishing nectar
Keep my belly from famished fallicies
No longer a fleshy comestible collector
For godly ambrosia has mended moralities
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