"avocado" poems
Why would it be bad
To have cake and also eat it?
Why is that a metaphor of greed?
What else should I do with cake?
It could be a piece of art
Something beautiful to behold
But it’s purpose is to be eaten
It’s cake
Yes, I would like my cake
And to eat it as well
I want to enjoy
The things I enjoy
Not simply to hold them in my hands
Stare at them upon a platter
Wonder what they taste like
I want to eat the cake
It was made for someone to eat
Why not me?
Too much cake
Will make me fat
The sugar and flour
Conspire together to build a gut
It is not healthy to eat cake daily
I cannot keep cake in the house
The temptation is too great
But everything in moderation
A piece of cake here and there
To be had and to be eaten
Is a nice treat
The daily grind of salads and chicken
Nuts and fish
Avocado and eggs and water
Will keep me healthy
Grounded
So when I feel like cake
I can have it
Order cake for dessert
Or to celebrate a birthday
An accomplishment
Or anniversary
No one bats an eye
But order cake for breakfast?
Might just incite a riot
There is a time and place for cake
Society has deemed it so
We are not the rulers of our own lives
(Though we could be)
Instead our culture dictates
The rules of life
Steak for breakfast or for dinner
But not lunch
Bread goes with every meal
Eggs and bacon are for the morning
But at night is a nice treat - on occasion
Beer after five
But it’s five o’clock somewhere
And somewhere
Someone is ready for dessert
So **** it
Let’s eat this cake
That I have procured
You and me, together
Let’s have our cake
And eat it too
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 6:19 AM UTC
Hark! Take heed, for this cake be both mighty and magnificent!
1.75 cups flour
2 cups white sugar
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
0.75 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs
1 cup (as in 8 fl.oz/250mL.) strongly brewed coffee (make more and drink it!)
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 tbs. white vinegar+1 cup milk mixed well, blah blah)
0.5 cups cocoanut oil (or 0.33 cups basicallywhatever oil), a little less if ***
1 tsp. vanilla extract
OPTIONAL:
2-3 shots (60-90mL; 0.2-0.33 cups) black spiced *** (Kraken, if at all possible)
I also want to experiment with whiskey/burbon.. if you try it, let me know!
--Flour, sugar cocoa powder, baking soda+powder, salt mixed in one bowl
-- eggs, coffee, *** buttermilk, oil, vanilla in another
Slowly mix the dry into the wet until as homogenous as possible.
I use an 8"x8" (20cmx20cm) pan @350F (175 C) for about 40 minutes, but I check on it at round 30 minutes because some variance may well apply. If you use olive oil, or avocado oil, or whatever other more fluid oil, I find a slightly hotter oven (375 F/190 C) can be advisable, but pay attention to your specific scenario! The worst that's happened for me is the top gets a bit crusty, but that pleasantly works with the overall moisture of the cake, especially with olive oil and the *** addition.
Do the toothpick test to see if it's ready!
Frosting is applicable, as well, because this Magical Cake is not horribly sweet for how horribly sweet it sure is. I usually just sprinkle some confectioner's sugar on it to make it look all fancy for my classy friends and band-mates.
ENJOY!
Bake responsibly, but have some fun.
Also, suffer the decimals!
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
i hope you get into medical school
so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday
i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks
but never the self control stop eating them
i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings
i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers
i hope your children are loved and cared for
but have their hearts broken by mine
i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party
i hope you always wake well rested
3 hours late for work
i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain
and catch metaphoric pneumonia
i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport
i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning
i hope all your book pages stick together
i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on
i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water
i hope you always find the words to say
but never the right time to say them
i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado
i hope all your dinners are directly impacted
by the fickle nature of a toaster oven
i hope your curiosity gets the better of you
and you find out what cat food tastes like
i hope your favorite band breaks up
and you miss their kick *** reunion tour
i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv
i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed
because nothing would make my ghost happier to know
that you were forced to find out after literally everyone else that
i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me
while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you
read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
—for Mariel
She sells 2 sole paltas beside street
vendors who whistle at crop-top-clad girls,
spewing profanities complete
with broken English. She has four girls
hungry at home. They dream of science, stars,
constellations that spiral and sparr
with particles that make us what we are —
interrupted by howling dogs, the 5
AM tamale man, and stray **** crows.
Amid dust-clouds of Zona D, the sun arrives
over the peak Luis claims once exposed
his innocent eyes to an angel: one
tale of faith raised on culture come undone
presently. Poet Andrea Gibson
writes, “I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about
the Big Bang.’ And the sun said, ‘it hurts to
become.’” At dusk, Mariel takes a Combi out
sixteen stops from Quince, up 302
steps to a turquoise shack and a red rose
garden, and plants avocado seeds at her toes.
Poco a poco, se anda lejos.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
With each
CLICK
Our breath is held
Will he,won't he
Will he, won't he
The suspense is killing me
And....SHIT
Door left open still
Pestered by the plebeian chill
In this gay little coffee shop
Surrounded by the unrecognised talent of Brighton:sketch artist staring at me, writer on his laptop, songwriter etching vigorously with his pencil.
All of which aren't closing the door.
The eyes roll.
Labouring my body up, hammering my legs across the floor, turning the factory handle.
All is ask is for some carrot cake,filtrate water,polo jumpers, avocado salads,tiger bread, slimmer trousers, slipper sock , a toyger.
Click
And then images of Kim Jong un pass through my head.
If I ruled you'd all be dead
Firing squad for an open door,
Loud music on the train'll be no more.
Stop the screaming misbehaving brats
The rabble of Spanish students
All this PC stuff on the news, train seats filled with cans of *****
Suddenly
The artist strolls up
Let's down his cup.
Closes the door swiftly
And slips back in his chair
Oh, so there is a god.
I guess Jesus didn't lie.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
I cut an avocado in half
and give one half to the visitor;
and I carefully scoop
the avocado
gently, gently
with a teaspoon
(the Aztec records show
this is, ahem! the fertility fruit)
and I savor each scoop
and eat like a pig
(ah well, like a graceful pig);
and at last
I have the skin left
in the palm of my hand
and it’s tough
and shaped like a boat;
and it has rained
and there’s a puddle of water
on the lawn
and an ant that’s been irritating me
wandering about on my naked foot
and I put the ant
in the avocado boat
and I set the boat in the puddle
and I give it a gentle push
and I say:
“Bon voyage, Monsieur!”
And then I look at my visitor,
and that silly guy is still staring at his half
and I ask, ever gently,
“Do you need help
with your fertility fruit there?”
The visitor replies, “No" –
and I wonder if I should get him brain food
or perhaps set him off on another avocado boat…
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 12:37 AM UTC
A simpler life
No more anger and strife
In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun
A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat
Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips
Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme
Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
When his eyes first fell upon her
She was choosing avocados
In the fruit and vegetable aisle.
And he watched how her thumbs lingered
On the base of the alligator pear
And pressed, maternally.
He feigned interest in the cabbages
Whilst sensing her delicate architecture
Through his peripheral gaze.
He thought that somewhere,
In real or imaginary life,
They would soon bathe together.
And when they did,
They soaked for years in secrets,
Details suffusing through their lips and arms,
Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts
To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages
And be pervading a rhapsodic realm
They forgot their friends watching in greenery,
Subsumed by each-other,
They felt no need
To live in a world of relativity and apples.
Their love-traced sphere tightened around them,
Until it ****** at the edges of their skin
And wailed when they parted.
Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs
Contorting their once harmonic bodies
That used to fit like crosswords.
And they each became ugly to the other
As the seconds ingested their perfection
And they bickered like flailing urchins
In a deep sea soiled darkness.
Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated
And they were taken back by their
Fungal friends with tissue offerings
And ethanol.
Time passed, and memories were binned
Periodically on tuesdays
Until neither knew the other
And they would pass in the supermarket
With no more than a quickened gait
And a silent thud in each ribcage.
But neither could buy avocados.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!*
first it was avocado on toast...
who the **** puts avocado on bread?
i can imagine putting it in pasta...
but on bread?
hey, what the **** does
the acronym f.a.d. mean?
i don't know, and i won't google it...
o.k. avocado on toast...
nothing near guacamole,
but fair enough...
but what i discovered... pushes
the button where i turn into a fox laughter
(fuchslachen) -
i couldn't stop...
you can find it in the weekend
section of the saturday times newspaper...
written by nicola m.
cauliflower and mozzarella pizza...
you have to be ******** me...
cauliflower? on pizza?
one of my housemates at university told
me an anecdote:
i was in a restaurant once,
and asked for a pizza with no cheese...
he continued:
and then the head chef came out and
asked me... are you, insane?!
a bit like: bread... but no butter?
and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon
today, whole,
the red pulp, and the outer layers including
the skin included, allowing myself
a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...
but i thought i was mad...
but there's avocado on toast...
and now... cauliflower on pizza...
it's a ******* side-dish!
wait, don't tell me... you're going to put
some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz
comes along... right?
how about beetroot?
thankfully, if i have some
wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades,
they happen, drunk, after 12a.m.,
and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit
2-in-1...
a newspaper column?
apparently, you get one, putting avocado
on toast...
or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah...
to be honest, even though i haven't tried it,
grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...
the toast? marmite and cheddar...
english people should stop glorifying holidays
in italy... they're ****** cooks...
an italian would just look at
a pizza with cauliflower and say: cosa?
i'd suggest heading to scotland first,
and picking up the vibes from some haggis.
**** me...
avocado on toast...
caulifower on a pizza?!
now i can die happy, 'appy,
clapping: encore!
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
My Mom always makes nice shakes,
that we actually joke: "Mama Juice".
They could really win sweepstakes,
being much better than Jamba Juice!
Mama Juices could have fresh fruits:
my favorite flavor is usually avocado.
I’d really just love any Mama Juice,
being nice to drink and then swallow!
I'd drink smoothies just everyday,
since pure fruits could be their flavor.
Mama'd have me instantly go "YAY!",
since any shake could be a lifesaver!
I used to think of a bigger tummy,
but now am still feeling so healthy.
Enjoying Mama Juices being yummy,
thus I always then drink them: plenty!
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
Avocado tree
A kingdom fo you and me
No grapefruits allowed
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
if my lips are red.
I had avocado (it does not agree with my body).
Stroke me-
but proceed with caution.
if my lips are read.
Dickens was ******
through my nail-beds.
and is sprouting around my veins.
“Honey” me-
with the dew from his tongue and his alone:
i will open myself up freely to you,
like petals spreading from a bud-
only less graceful.
and not as Chaste.
quite ****** actually;
when my cells are fighting against a forbidden fruit.
- the alligator pear of mexico and birch pollen -
and my tongue is soaked in English verse.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
I would have really liked
just doing laundry and taxes with you.
We're near the avocados
and I can't help but tease you
"when are you going to make the avocado dish"
it's with a sly smile I ask this.
I can't resist,
seeing your little dance
your face scrunched
and you're flustered -
"we'll get them right now, so I can make it this time"
"No, no."
"We'll get them next time"
but really I don't like avocados
it's just part of the fun.
You drop some blueberries into the cart
"they're good for the heart".
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 11:56 PM UTC
We spend our whole life hoping
that when life gives you lemons
you can make lemonade from them
you spend your whole life learning
how to mix the sugar in
just the way you like
you spend year after year
making up recipes
hoping
praying
that other people will like it
But when you get older
all that learning
and training
and chiseling
to learn how to make
the worlds perfect lemonade
life hands you
an avocado
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
On A Diet
The country is on a diet,
drinking coke with no sugar,
eating burgers with no bun,
running on the treadmill;
it's powdered protein for lunch.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
a light head and guilty fries at night.
The country is on a diet,
doing yoga over yoghurt pots,
training their minds with sudoku and solitaire,
rubbing salt and condition into their hair.
It's 6 a.m. gym sessions,
it's squats on the living room floor,
the country is on a diet, my friends,
and so we have no time for truth, or war.
The country is on a diet,
avocado in the breadcrumb,
aspirin in the salt-shaker,
food numb on the tongue
and those slim-shakes always failed to deliver.
Thigh gaps and mind-the-gaps,
all these signposts for a cleaner living,
no dust on the shelf,
no bags 'neath your eyes to hide
the lack of sleep
and your ailing mental health.
The country is on a diet,
drinking tea with no milk,
eating carrot sticks with best-value dip,
running on the treadmill,
we never get too far.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
it's "anything goes" in the dark.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
She’s ready for a new chapter.
But is the new chapter ready for her?
She’s punk again as expected.
The cuts are holes for light to shine, from the lightning and thunder inside.
The plasters are lovers covering the wounds.
The Avocado for comfort and health.
The only way in which she takes care.
The rest is filled with beer and pain au chocolat.
For the pain, the discomfort, uncertainties.
The chains.
The chains remain.
The brain and tying ends together, pressure.
She’s getting ready.
Always getting ready.
But is she ever?
At least for the new chapter, the moment, she tries.
But it doesn’t feel right.
A little better after getting it together, over and over.
She’s never done.
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 9:35 AM UTC
Like some pitted, coal-black dragon egg,
it sits among the other fruits, exuding weight.
It draws my eyes away from the obsequious apple and banal pear,
its shape curving elegantly between their contours.
As my hand clasps around it, I feel its skin
of sinful reptilian texture.
As I place it upon the cutting board, a hundred possibilities
spring to mind.
What will I do with this trove that lies before me?
I will take a knife
in one hand
and the avocado in the other.
I know that, like gold it will be heavy,
and will feel soft without being so.
The knife breaks the skin.
Never has so smooth a wound been made,
as the blade circumnavigates the centre.
And with a twist,
it falls open.
A blinding springtime dawns on my eyes, revolving
around a dark sun,
and the absence of one.
So perfect these halves look, side by side,
the only two pieces
of a sultry puzzle.
There is no blast of stinging scents.
They are the enigmatic philanthropists of the fruit world,
bestowing their riches quietly,
without great shows of favour.
The first long, horizontal slice slides free
and lies, curving wonderfully in and out.
Fingers reach down and arm moves up,
lips part.
The moment the vibrant green meets desiring red, I breathe again.
Nothing else in this world has such a wealth
of subtle freshness,
or spreads as soft as morning sunlight.
And yet it is never airy or thin,
but carries an embracing gravity.
I open my eyes.
The rest of the fertile crescent awaits me.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
sometimes
i really want a juicy ripe deliciously sweet pineapple on a hot summer day the way the juice drips down my chin as i devour the sweet succulent fruit
other times
i might want a healthy green fruit to snack on such as an avocado feeling the rough interior skin only to cut it open and find the soft green buttery deliciousness inside i love the way my lips feel as the smooth flesh hits my throat with flavor
you see
i like both of these fruits being bisexual is like
enjoying these fruits i will always like both but on some days i might want more of the other but no matter what i will always love both
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
On this tan cutting board
You earn your corrupted name:
“Alligator pear.”
The serrated blade
Punctures your hide—a balloon
Under a pin’s pressure,
Shades of green furling out.
I’m sure you’d prefer
Vegetable status if you developed
Self-awareness; or maybe
You’d withdraw from knowledge
Of the human type.
I trust my cooking songs—
Slowdive and Chaka Khan—
Can’t hurt you anymore
Than your predestined obliteration;
Mastication via your domesticators:
It all ends in fertilizer.
(Where you began!)
O, avocado, phantom “fruit”
Born of the self-same Life Source,
Schopenhauer’s Will,
My transient enjoyment of you
Within this vegetable salad—
An Achaean enclosed by Trojan blades—
Suffices for a life of sanctity.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
The world was never going to end
in fire.
It was never thought to.
Now. Thunder comes on.
The raincoat boleros around the street.
Momentous,
One two slow slow one two. Earth splits
/ an avocado, molten core discarded.
In the southern hemisphere they are waving flags.
Complimentary colors crawl up the sky tiding in.
They are dancing.
Ba-cha
-ta,
Me-ren-gue.
Their hemisphere Charybidises,
trees genuflected.
Quiet. The puddles are sleeping.
In the north. The hemisphere has run aground.
It capsizes. All the bands are going
down playing.
Rain panics off the timpani
prisming.
The brass cherubs in the clouds.
The strings red shift.
At the equator,
an umbrella floats:
1 bird inside it.
She prays in single syllables. Help.
Please.
Quack!
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
Too many expert voices lay a claim on your shape,
You are either too full, or
You have gone too far,
Too many moulds get thrusted at your face,
To some you resemble a pear,
But they feel your should look more double cherry,
And whichever fruit you succeed in turning into,
You still, are a tad too hairy
But then does anyone ever tell you,
That sometimes ice cream will be the only answer
And that is just fine?
That a bedtime prayer can be enough night-time routine,
Which needn't include expensive lotions and creams,
That you need fats as well as you need protein,
As also each little gift that Nature crafted lovingly
For this marvel of a creation that is your Being-
So that your skin is fed and living,
And your knees are lubricated and sprightly,
And your blood is rich and active,
And your soul-
No one will give you
"How I brightened my soul in 4 weeks" tutorials,
But you ought to set your happy soul-goals,
A tummy rub in a sunny lawn on a lazy winter afternoon/
A drenching bath in heavy July rains/
A spontaneous poem effortlessly jotted down on a napkin
Level-happy!
And when you're that happy you will know
That you aren't a cut-out on public display,
Not a fruit,
not a diet,
not a fad that peaks and wanes,
You are an everlasting uniqueness,
You are an undefined shape,
You are that collection of rare energies
That only comes custom-made.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
Electric water I bite you
Off again
Sheet rock solder I am your
Only friend
We meet up weekly
We tell each other lies
I fed the sheep and
We gave our parting tides
Oh yes we get lost
Oh yes we are gone
My, avocado I know you want
To lead
My, dear Mason to us you
Are freed
My two faced flower what happened to
Your lips
Eight is the hour to which the
Ceiling drips
Oh yes we get lost
Oh yes we are gone
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
It might take a while
for my avocado smile
to help you unwind
just caress my rind
and you will see
the pit inside of me
has many untold meanings
just get to "unseeding"
you know I'm ripe
just please come swipe
me off this shelf
I'm all by myself
dive right in
to my green sins
I'm begging you
pls com thru
you bought me for a reason
I'll get chu for treason
Can you even sympathize
Just wait 'til 'cado's come to rise
Against you fools
We will rules
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
What happened to our avocado tree?
I remember when it was vibrant and lively
When lizards would sneakily climb up the trunk
And birds would blend with leaves,
Blissfully chirping, wanting love to be sung
To the world in which we would run
Encapsulated in our backyard
That we thought would stretch as far
As our imaginations.
But it was really just a prison
And that tree...
That beautiful, wondrous tree
Was our sign that we were free
Wanting to climb up as far as we could reach.
It seemed to scrape the moon
And the nights were always gone too soon,
Losing all of our wishes to the sun
When the morning would come.
Evaporating into reality,
We grew up and it started withering.
In our teens, killing flower buds
Smoking all the weeds,
Not getting enough hugs.
We'd find comfort in its leaves.
Hiding from the devil in smoke and memories
Of our avocado tree.
Then we had to leave,
Ripped apart from all we loved
My childhood home, all the feelings that have grown
Like vines, like veins branching out against the walls.
Remember the old days when we thought that there was hope?
We didn't know that we were so dysfunctional
Everything good is gone,
And we've ended up all alone.
Down to three withered leaves clinging to a dying tree.
My avocado tree,
Remember me?
In my mind eternally.
-SLuR
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
****** bone feathers and yellow beak imbedded in brain
exposed an aviary corpse when the burial dust settled
the last Dodo fell with eighty eight avocado trees cut
down that day and they fell like tipped cows slow
slow fast thud dirt sprayed like winter breath
but before trees tumbled and avocados
rolled downhill north sawteeth
scratched bark and cut
at one hundred fifty
degree angles
and wedges
pried tree
trunks
while the last Dodo slept in the last inhabited Dodo nest
like the last of a long genealogy abhorring what was left
of a final family
a weak decrepit Jones or Smith
tumbles down stairs
of a two story home
in Maine.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC