#pork
Clouds cover
the delicate pinks
clear and opalescent
of a blushing sky
Electric light
over avenues
of midnight trees
Wagering
throwing dice
Moving wandering
between themes
of obscure dreams
Passing time
wondering
Waiting
for tender flesh
Barbecued pork
The curve
of a female form.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Tinugis ka ma’y
Buong bayan ang nagtiis
Ika’y reyna ng katiwalian.
Maghugas kamay man
Putik ng katiwalian
Babangon sa hukay
Siya’y bangungot
Sa’yong paghimbing.
Sa Senado’y
Sino ba ang salarin?
Niluklok at binoto
Hindi para manloko
Kawangis nila’y
Naging isang delubyo.
Itong si Juan
Pulubi na nga
Pinamihasaan nyo pa
Kaban ng bayan
Winalis nyong bigla.
(12/2/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
I guess I was amassing a collection
So I could show my children all the places I’ve ate
Like little milestones
All the places I’ve had dead end dates
All the places I’ve gorged myself
Having just got off work
Or just smoked a bowl
Either way I felt deserving of a feast
All the places I shared stories with friends
All the places we shared kisses before we went in
All the orange chicken I ate to help sober up
All the take out I ordered when we broke up
And that one place I found out I was allergic to shrimp and threw up
Yeah I remember it all
The egg rolls, the soup, the soy sauce
The painting of pandas or dragons
The red lanterns
All the motifs
You seemingly needed to run an establishment
Like this
There are the stand outs
The Lucky Star whose pork fried rice was just cut up Slim Jims
The Panda House who treated me less like a customer and more like a friend
If I didn’t come around, they would call and ask where I had been
It didn’t matter if it was in a mall or in my small home town
I always found comfort in this other culture’s food
So while I’m waiting for all those fountain cookies to come true
I guess I’ll look back over these dozen Chinese menus
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
He is bald
Plain to my eyes
Sublime in local geniality
The garden he claims
Taimed in distress
Of the coming winter
I fear the tears
Sudden regret
For his' long forgotten trials
Forced to steep so low
Forward but below
Entrenched in sweet tasting anguish
His' body hard and unmotivated
The Sculpture of obsession
Must be completed with stubborn muscle
I seem to torment him
My love becoming
A betrayal of our lust
Battles commence
Volcanic eruptions
Shake the house of ruin
He never seems to trust me
My compassionate actions
Bring forth pork chops
The meal
Is shared
Beside each other
Without Sight
We fight against
White picket fences
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
There once was a farmer from Cork
Who fell on a frumious fork:
It punctured the ***
Where he kept his bad gas
Made mostly from cabbage and pork.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 12:26 PM UTC
When does, it but,
when do happen
and what’s the formal order
I seem to forget frequently
about which Pork comes before which.
I can’t seem to get this set, I guess
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC