#barbecue
A barbecue that provided the best of hot smoked grill
is now cold, soggy and still,
and at your height you were such a thrill.
The lesson is what is gone still remains,
in my thoughts you'll always be flames.
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 3:11 PM UTC
i ate barbecue
over and over again
for sixty six years
Jul 25, 2022
Jul 25, 2022 at 11:39 PM UTC
Jenny dance
in front
of eyes
that candy
is sweet
not butter
in sleeves
of her
patriot but
her belligerence
in trees
as she
stares the
ligament in
his ribs
in back
of Cajun
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 8:26 AM UTC
a peace on summer breeze
let sunshine on the trees
and psychedelic days ablaze
with vivid colors in this haze
sky at dusk would lie in wait
and serene was the moon
nearing fate that water was sedate
and the pool flattered me
smiles were frozen upon themselves
with clover and chairs
clustered this grille; with shish kabob
and flavor that savored the heat
where fire instilled tonight
fore the air was succumb
to this lazy hour of credit
in this town as love beamed
straight to the heart
where tears were heartfelt
and roses where red vinyl was hot
and spun well with the next track
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
The thing about you
is that you’re pathetic, too!
Forgive me, I’ve had a few.
Five drinks in you start to spew,
"I think it’s true,
the thing about you
that left me no one to live up to."
I should have said what we both knew:
"Forgive me, I’ve had a few."
Instead I send a needle through,
by means makeshift voodoo,
the things about you
that drown me in a root beer brew:
those god **** eyes of fizz and warmth and Xanadu
and please forgive me, I’ve had a few.
So, I hex you in that way I do
when I didn’t ask to hear your view:
"WELL THE THING ABOUT YOU–
Forgive me, I’ve had a few."
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
A log cabin, I'd built for myself,
A make shift swing waiting to engulf,
I would like to wake up to my snore,
Only to snuggle deeper under my pillow...
Steaming mug of Coffee in hand,
Favourite books at the side stand,
A barbecue grill by the banks of the river,
With only few birds to share the pleasure...
Though time is frozen in this land,
It should be racing at the land of despair...
I wake up to the sound of alarm,
In a clumsy hole called my home.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC