"barbeque" poems
I march to a different drummer
My life it is my own
I'm an explorer of experience
That is how I'm known
I've seen snow in South Dakota
I've been on the Vegas strip
Had barbeque in Kansas
My life has been a trip
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother... spare a dime?
I've been through all the landlocked states
Five provinces as well
I've seen Niagara Falls all frozen
I've seen it flowing fast as well
I've had margaritas in Key West
And Bourbon in Kentucky
Craft beers out in Oregon
In my life I have been lucky
I travel on my stories
Feed myself with all my tales
I'm an explorer of experience
I'm a gypsy of the rails
I never stick around too long
I don't wear my welcome out
I come and see just what I want
That's what life is all about
I've railroad friends in Texas
Some up in BC too
We've shared drinks in San Diego
And had a great Alaskan brew
I'm not one to live by your rules
I find my rules suit me fine
I'm an explorer of experience
And I'm riding on the lines
You can find me down in Georgia
Or eating spuds in Idaho
I never know just where I'll be
Until my ride begins to go
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother...spare a dime?
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
- Ode to food .
Barbecue Ribs ;
I Swear If Youu Were a person youu'd Have a Crown .
You'd Be The Queen of your town .
Youu make Other Foods Envy Youu Because of your delicious Barbeque Sauce And Your Juicy Meat .
Youu got fans because Your who their mouth wants to meet .
Ice cream ;
Your cold ,
But you never get old .
Everyone Loves Youu ,Your Like Your Heaven sent .
Everyone Loves you Exept For the lactose - intolerant .
You come in different flavors ,
Your served in different Dishes ,
You have different Toppings ,
The one thing people Is Scared To do to youu is dropping .
Youu melt down people's Throat ,
Filling them with joy .
Youu make babys Wanna leave their favorite toy .
Chips ;
Crunchy ,
Munchy .
Who Dosnt Eat Youu ?
Like , I mean everyone Likes you new .
Your so fly .
Not literaly Fly .
Thats Apparently a lie ,
Its Obvious you cant fly .
Your different .
Youu Come differently ..
Your so good they clone youu Continuesly .
Chicken ;
Youu had to die
To Satisfy .
Youu do Good to my stomach ,
Make Me Feel good .
Your so good .
Youu Can even be barbequed ,
Your so good i wanna play a harp for youu .
You Can Be Boiled Too .
But I Dont Like you like that , Eww .
Candy ;
Your so dandy .
You Come In Different Varieties .
Skittles , M&MS; Even Jelly beans .
Who dont love youu , i mean Youu That Babie .
Everyone love youu Exept People with Diabetes .
This Is My Ode Too Food .
Food That Taste M-m-m Good .
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
it's you.
i would have never known
unless i saw
the light meet your face
that morning.
neither of us are early risers,
but i couldn't waste
a second.
above me,
at 6:40 in the morning,
a perfect blend of
blue, gray, and sincerity,
which was born
on the rising sun,
peered through an ivory curtain,
and landed on a gentle face.
infinity soaked gaze,
honey coated touch,
your color was
the crisp mountain air
through a rolled down
Jeep window.
your color was
a John Prine record
and local barbeque
your color was serene.
it was the light's reflection of
a summer enveloped
by two people
in love with
right now.
-Anna Blake
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram
FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band
King Khan and the Barbeque Show,
Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys
Florence + the Machine
Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr
Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant
*** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Bob Dylan
Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova,
Modest Mouse, The Doors
Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones
Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins
Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley
Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes:
all gnarly
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
Mon papa, c'est le plus fort des papas.
Mon papa, c'est le plus beau des papas.
Mon papa, même quand il est fatigué, on dirait Richard Gere.
Mon papa, même si il est carnivore, moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand il mange, on dirait qu'il a 5 ans, mais moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, il a des voitures super cool qui font vroom.
Mon papa, quand il conduit, on dirait Michel Vaillant, même pas peur.
Mon papa, quand il me dit bonne nuit, j'ai même plus peur.
Les monstres sous mon lit, eux, ils se désintègrent avec la force des bisous de mon papa.
Mon papa, parfois, il ronfle et je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand on est dans la piscine, il joue au crocrodile avec nous.
Mon papa, quand il porte des choses, les manches de sa chemise se déchire sous les muscles.
Mon papa, avec une barbe, on dirait un homme des caverne, c'est trop cool.
Mon papa, quand il fait des câlins, on disparait sous ses couches d'amour.
Mon papa, quand il nous emmène faire du shopping, il supporte des heures et il sourit.
Mon papa, il nous laisse faire des trucs qui lui font peur, mais il veut nous faire plaisir, alors il dit oui.
Mon papa, il m'a laissé faire du saut en parachute, et je suis même pas morte.
Mon papa, il râle parfois mais on sait qu'en fait, c'est parce qu'il nous aime.
Mon papa, même quand il voyage, il pense à nous.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage avec des photos tout le temps quand il travail.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage tout le temps quand il est en vacances.
Mon papa, il fait des trucs de papa trop génial.
Par exemple, il connait nos restaurants préférés, et il sait ce qui nous fait plaisir.
Alors il nous y emmène.
Mon papa, même quand il est en colère, il est beau.
Mon papa, quand il sourit il est comme Thor, le dieu du tonnerre, il est puissant.
Du coup, parfois, ma maman elle fait un nervous break down.
Parce que mon papa il est trop beau c'est même pas normal.
Mon papa, il a un double menton pour que si un jour Game Of Thrones arrive dans la vraie vie, on pourra pas lui trancher la gorge.
Mon papa, il fait du vélo plus vite que le Tour de France. La preuve, ca fait des années qu'ils sont en France, mon papa, lui, il est déjà à Dubai.
Mon papa, parfois il oublie notre anniversaire quand on lui demande au pif, mais il oublie jamais de le souhaiter, donc on lui pardonne.
Mon papa, il voyage en first class.
Mon papa, il connait les aéroports mieux que James Bond.
Mon papa, il regarde des series TV de jeunes.
Mon papa, il porte des costards.
Mon papa, il nous emmène manger des dans endroits incroyables.
Mon papa, il nous emmène dans des hôtels de luxe.
Mon papa, il devrait être président du monde.
Mon papa, il est mieux que les autres papa parce que c'est le mien.
Mon papa, il est irremplaçable.
Mon papa, si on m'en donnait un autre, j'en voudrais pas.
Mon papa, je veux que celui la.
Mon papa il est pas toujours là, mais c'est pas grave, parce qu'il est jamais ****
Mon papa, il traverse le monde mais après il nous raconte, alors c'est cool.
Mon papa, il fait une super vinaigrette. Dommage que j'aime pas la vinaigrette.
Mon papa, quand il fait un barbeque, ca fait beaucoup de fumée et pas beaucoup de feu, mais c'est pour mieux nous impressioner quand il fait rôtir la viande.
Mon papa, il parle Anglais.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur papa du monde.
Mon papa, je l'aime, même si maintenant, il a presque un demi siècle.
Mon papa, c'est comme un druide.
Ca meurt jamais.
C'est trop cool.
Mon papa, c'est comme une mode indémodable, tu veux jamais le remplacer, il est toujours tendance.
Mon papa, on peut pas le comparer a une mode fashion, parce que c'est un humain.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur humain que je connaisse.
Avec ma maman et ma soeur et mon chat, mais chuuuuut.
C'est un secret.
Mais ce que je préfère à propos de mon papa, c'est que dès que je le vois, je peux lui dire:
"mon papa, je l'aime."
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
I want summer like I want you, constantly. I’m tired of cold that snatches my breath and hope. I want the trees to regain their decency and cover their bare limbs. Wearing the greenest fullest blouses. I want the grass to grow. Thunder to roll and rain to fall. I want fat drops to bounce of the pavement, to wash my face and hair.
I want the sun to bath my skin in beauty, making it glow with warmth. I want dresses and shorts and skirts. I want brown legs and flip-flops. I want turquoise pools and florescent swimsuits.
I’m sick of cold fingers and toes. I’m tired of heaters and blankets. I want to roll down the windows. I want sweat on my back and only sheets on my bed. I’d love warm nights, drinking sweet tea, and making love beneath the stars. I wish for glowing street lights and lake nights. I want to sit in the windows of cars at sonic.
I want barbeque sunflower seeds and the fourth of July.
I want field parties with only beer and red bull, and only bonfires to see by. I want fireflies and chigger bites. Lemonade out of mason jars.
I miss cotton, and sandals. I miss volleyball, ***** feet, and ponytails. But what I miss most about summer is freedom. Those summer night driving under an endless sky of stars.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 11:54 AM UTC
Salt+Pepper=Vinegar-Ketchup-Barbeque-Sour Cream+Onions
Mint+Lime=OneTequilaTwoTequilaThreeTequilaFloor
Bread+Mornings=Buttered Side+Lands Down
Potatoes+Oil=Burgers+Wings+Club Sandwiches
Milk+Chocolate=Nostalgia+Marshmallows
Freezer+Yoghurt-Regrets=Dissatisfaction
Coffee+Liqueur=Saturday Night=OJ+Champagne=Sunday Morning
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
There are vampires, but they like to feed on blood and they do it because they have to, to exist.
The werewolf has to feed because it is in their nature and meat becomes their prey.
Zombies are cursed and that is why they feed the way they do.
But me, I do what I do for the sheer pleasure of it and you would be shocked if you knew how many people like me were out there in this world of ours.
You see, I am what you would call a cannibal and if you even tasted human flesh, then you would understand how it is an amazing required taste.
And the fear of my victims makes that taste so much sweeter, the mingling of their sweat is just mouth watering and they just so much better when they have to feel pain.
Mind you, heavy smokers can be a bit annoying because you get that smell of nicotine in the air when you fry up their lungs.
There are so many of us about, have you ever wondered about those exclusive restaurants where you find it difficult to be able to book a table.
Where if you order the sausages it has so much great flavour and the gravy is just so delicious.
Next time and look around at those regulars that always seem to get a table, that look is not the expectation of the food but the wonder of what you might taste like.
I've had it all, Indian, Mexican, Chinese and nothing seems to beat a nice English roast.
But never complain to the management because the next time you might find yourself on the menu.
Sooner or later we are going to get you, we might cut you to pieces as you are still alive, because as I said before, the flesh tastes so much better that way.
Maybe we could boil you alive like a lobster, I've done that so many times to my victims.
I know the neighbour was having some problems with some teenagers but they have disappeared now.
So I decided to celebrate and have a barbeque and invite everyone, the food will taste like nothing you've tasted before.
Yes I'm going to invite you over to join us, we would love to have you over for dinner.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
still hangs in the night air
from holiday meals
long grilled
the only light I see
is above
the crescent moon
and a triangle of stars
boasting of Saturn
and Mars
plus the bonus planet Antares
as I stumble
yet again
through the lawn
to find those
half sunken stepping stones
on tilted soil
headed towards the back porch
where Lily cat meows
loudly for her supper
by the back door
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
We celebrate Juneteenth as if the war was not still being fought
Across news stations and echoes of Jefferson's dreams
The last slaves freed, but this country was never
Reconstructed, just patched up just replaced
Chains with debt, a Theseus ship of spoils pulled
From the wreckage of **** And I sit the echoes
of police sirens slung like clubs across the backs of the
Boys that sat in my classroom and wondered
Why every white person they met always had
To yell so much. As if there was nothing at all
to be exchanged besides recreating Hegel’s dialectic.
As if the only way to win was in blood. And perhaps
That is what Juneteenth really teaches us, that blood
Shed long enough will lead to ghosts, whispered
Warnings we ignore. As if a million bodies buried across
The South was not enough of a reminder that we needed
To **** to have the enslaved seen as people. We celebrate the
Day we no longer had to bury bayonets in bodies
To treat humans as humans. And they still can't see it.
Don’t realize that if you take away the last plate of food,
That if you turn off the power, that if the dollar can't fill the tank
What comes from desperation is a blood-born tsunami
full of the ghosts of dead racists and stolen children,
full of collateral damage and crackheads hooked on crystal
Sold to them by the CIA.
This country cannot swallow the blood needed to clear its cup.
But at least we gonna barbeque and vote, and Dream, and read.
At least we gonna explain to the children that this was the day
The last slaves were freed when there are still hungry mouths to feed.
At least we gonna sit with Baldwin, or Miles, or Kendrick, and unhinge
Our throats like snakes swallowing what the storms sing from suffering.
At least we can carry that truth. If only for a day. If only to free the last
Mind slaves still believing that the war is over, the dead silent,
The constitution holy, the senate fair, the president controls gas prices,
The bullet not already loaded, the school doors not already locked,
The rich earned it, the news aint propaganda, the children martyrs
The blood in our bodies not singing requiems to the pain of our ancestors,
At least we gonna pretend that this country actually free.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 5:48 AM UTC
*September Rainbow
A 9/11 Story
By
Jude Kyrie
Dedicated to all who lost on 9/11
September 11, 2001
As a little girl,
he sat next to me
at junior school.
I always liked him.
No much more than that.
Later at high school
we walked home together.
He would carry my books.
At graduation,
he was my date.
We even went
to college together.
That was when
we broke the chains
of friendship and
he became my lover.
My first and only love.
We married young
it was no surprise
to our parents.
They were expecting it.
Before I knew it
we had three kids.
Two girls and a boy.
Our son looks just like him.
September 10, 2001
It was just like any other day.
He came home from work
Cooked burgers
on the backyard barbeque.
We got the kids to bed
drank a glass of wine
went to bed at ten.
He wanted to make love
but I was exhausted
the kids had
been terror's all day.
September 11,2001
The next day
he kissed me goodbye.
With a see you later honey.
I got a call from my friend
She said quickly
put on the TV.
I saw the towers fall
Turning to ashes
Like my life did
at that moment.
All I could think was
I wish I had made love
to him last night.
September 11, 2015
The children are all
grown up now.
He would be
so proud of them.
I look at my strong
handsome son.
He looks like him exactly.
We stand at ground zero
and say a prayer.
I whisper
it was always you honey
Only you.
As if by magic
he answered me
A giant beautiful rainbow.
Circled over New York City.
And I know it was for me.*
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
Looking around on a sunny day
Barbeque sizzling, music playing
People talking, laughing.
It's a great atmosphere and I think
"This should be food for poetry"
And still I draw a blank
And I wonder why.
Maybe it's because
I don't really feel part of it.
New job, socially awkward.
I go off to the side
To sit down and write
Looking on from the outside, my norm.
I even brought magazines and poetry book
Downstairs to the barbeque.
I guess I created this
Carrying my barrier of books in front of me.
Easier than trying
Easier than feeling awkward and stupid, again.
But I know I'm not helping.
I have moments of feeling secure.
A confident, capable woman.
Me and my 'moments'
Some moments I would love to 'live in'
Some I do my best to avoid.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
I spoke to a wasp today. And he told me his story. He spoke to me about his childhood, and watching his own family being murdered. It was a bright and warm Friday evening. His father had ventured out and flew among the humans that lived in the home of his home. The smell of liquor permeated the air, as did the barbeque that was nearly too done. He drew close to the man of the home, just to watch and observe the scene. The man didn't like it too much. So he swatted him. It didn't hurt him, however, but it did confuse him. And in his confusion he landed upon the man and planted his stinger within him. The man slammed his hand down, cursing as the wasp's father's guts bled out. There was nothing the wasp could do but watch. The woman of the house asked if the man was ok. The man cursed once more and slammed his glass on the ground. The woman became upset and demanded to know why. The man had no answer. He merely just grabbed a gas can, took another ...swig of liquor, and walked up to the wasp's home and began dousing it in gasoline. The woman freaked out, afraid of what was about to happen. The man merely cursed at her as well and shoved her to the ground. When she tried to get back up he kicked her in the face. The blood poured. The wasp's home was now soaked in a lethal liquid. The man had a sinister grin as he glanced at his crying and bleeding woman lying on the ground, and he laughed as he lit a match and threw it on the wasp home. The nest went up in flames, and shortly after the home of the man did too. The little wasp escaped, unable to save the lives of his screaming family being burnt alive. The man merely laughed; the woman lay crying; the nest burnt to ashes; the house burnt down. So now the little wasp is all grown up. And when I asked what he wants to do with his life, all he replied was, "I want to sting people...because it seems that is all every creature is meant to do." ♥
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Fighting through the work week
Friday night is coming
Gonna have a party
Do some drinking and some strummin'
Bury all my stresses
Put them all away for now
Gonna have a party
And I'm gonna have it now...
Gonna have a party ..party time is here
Gonna have a party with some barbeque and beer
Having all my friends round, making noise so you can't hear
Gonna have a party with some barbeque and beer
Watching as the clock moves
Slowly at the end
It's almost five o'clock
Then I'm gonna party with my friends
Waiting for the weekend
Gonna party right on through
But first, we gotta get there
Then you know what we will do...
Gonna have a party..party time is here
Gonna have a party with some barbeque and beer
Having all my friends round, making noise so you can't hear
Gonna have a party with some barbeque and beer
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
I remember the day I met her
Near the breaths of the ocean
Before she chose mind-altering pleasures
Over everybody’s well-being
Only the tips of the clouds were bathed in light
The sounds of a typical barbeque
Echoed across the water
She smiled, I remember how that was, a gentle smile,
The kind you get when you lie in giraffe high grass
Within the meadow flowers
As the sun’s rays gently caress your face
The last time I saw her smile
It had twisted into a horrible grin,
The kind you get before you sing
“I know something you don’t know…”
She was smiling at something I couldn't see
Can never see
The effects of speed, ecstasy, crack, and *******
Her kids were taken away
My parents almost got custody,
But by then, she was “cured”.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 10:57 PM UTC
people -- blue jeans -- t-shirts -- volleyball -- sparklers -- *** its -- stone bridge -- pine trees -- new trees -- old trees -- fireworks -- grass -- sonic boom -- picnic chairs -- bicycles -- oak trees -- bare neck -- tickles -- sneezing -- bless you -- slight chill -- cloud cover -- police cars -- policemen -- uniforms -- night sticks -- sweat pants -- baby strollers -- skull & crossbones -- muscle shirt -- sweat shirt -- baseball caps -- fountains of sparks -- greenery -- dandelions -- yellow weeds -- wafting smoke -- black man in white shirt -- white man in black shirt -- SUV -- Boxer dog -- red wagon -- smoke stacks -- asian couple -- running shorts -- acrid smoke -- ice cream truck -- double trees -- pony tail -- mosquitos -- fishing hat -- yellow truck -- handlebar mustache -- bad *** attitude -- shaved head -- balloon -- barbeque -- sunset -- affro -- tennis shoes -- multi-colored hair -- canoe -- golden purse -- playing band -- American flag -- folding chair -- name badge -- red, white, & blue -- skipping rocks -- cargo shorts -- matching couple -- bike path -- hippie hair -- low rider -- peace sign -- golden chains -- waning moon -- waxed legs -- hoodies -- striped shirt -- victory dance -- short shorts -- cigar smoke -- watermelon -- Viking's bag -- leopard skin jacket -- skooter -- digital camera -- creepy stalker dude -- tent building -- horeshoes -- personal space invaders -- glow sticks -- picnic basket -- cooler -- smoke bombs -- plaid skirt -- 77 sweats -- interracial couples -- motorcycle -- orange vest -- plastic ball -- face paint -- cops in two different uniforms -- split tree -- pregnant lady -- trash talking horeshoe player -- street lamps -- playing tag -- large blue cooler -- bright green pants -- humorless boy
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
well... between listening
to the INFO WARS ban...
by the mainstream...
and listening
to Greig's
perfecto
in the hall of the mountain king...
and john williams...
london symphony orchestra
for *the emperor's throne room
scene*?
youtube was always my
testing alternative to
****** megastore listening
booths...
like replacing my ears with
a tongue...
i never actually tuned
in on youtube,
for the indie commentators...
i was always there for the music...
listening to these
content creators,
grovel a penny,
like some Oxfam offshoot?
not cool...
i was always there for
the foraging of music...
never the commentaries...
who said anything about
the commentaries?!
can't be bothered,
won't be bothered,
given that i've been doing this
scribbling for over 10 years,
and hven't been paid a
barnado's penny...
can't be ******* bothered,
mate...
burn in hell;
at this point, you don't dictate,
and... i don't tell you
what you must do...
welcome! free fall!
oh no... like my english neighbor,
he doesn't tell me when i can or can't
light my barbeque...
just so he can hang his washing!
**** off!
the only respected violence is
that against private property rights...
i'd cut his limbs off,
and then hang him off in a noose
composed of, his ******* tongue,
the next time,
he tells me i'm to inform him of
when i do my next barbeque,
prior to him doing his washing...
PRIVATE... PROPERTY... RIGHTS...
YOU ******* ENGLISH! ****
nor king, nor Buckingham Palace
janitor!
**** OFF!
you even know what itchy teeth
implies?
i beg to differ:
you don't want to know,
but i'll let you know;
it implies a desire to own
a pig farm;
and we known what the economics
of pork looks likes...
now apply that in reverse,
to hide, cannibalism.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 11:13 PM UTC
stem of orchid jewels
hearts white. fronds dangling caressed
clouds obscure. Judas gifts wrap
kitchen. bromeliad pool &
bird chorus, cocteau twins, unwound
clock. himalayan surveyor measures
watercolour, telescopic insight
ginger of blue flowerless season
changing, renewed construction
seeds bloom, a winter pose. house of
possibilities in clear air, away from here
barbeque covered, herbs sprout flavour
zen stone feature a cat’s new bed
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
I love the summer, I love the warm wind.
I love the smell of the barbeque,
and grabbing a cold beer from the ice filled bin.
Laying in the hammock with a few good books,
While the sun shines on me, helping me tan my looks.
The swimming pool is ice cold on a hot summers day.
The soothing feel of the water helps take the stress away.
Hamburgers, fries, hot dogs, and cola;
This American night cannot get any better.
Family and friends, sharing endless laughs,
Having too much fun, as the time starts to quickly pass.
Ending the night with a late night bonfire,
Watching the smoke rise hire and hire.
Finishing off with magical, jaw dropping fireworks.
Gazing in the sky with amazement, this is life's best perk.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
She sat beneath the high-noon blinds
The light too garish - spilling bleach
Not the soft song that falls behind
Far-off horizons of aural beach
No, this was hill-light - mountain-light
It was harsh, abstract, Cézanne
Cutting deep into each crevice - dust-mites
Irradiated at dawn
Overlooking every balcony
Of barking mutt - of barbeque
She craved for an epiphany
To change how she perceived the view
To find some meaning in the pools
The bars - the plastic awnings
She muttered, “I am such a fool”
Then took a drag and kept on longing.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
early saturday morning i woke
to a smell lost over winters breath,
that of barbeque and meat
stepping outside i could see the
smoke down the street so i walked
down
black man by the name of Myron
was sitting on his steps watching
as these rabbits jumped over top
of one another
he noticed me and motioned me
over
jumping off the steps like a old
man turning young again he
grabbed a white paper plate
and opened the grill
what is it about black men and
bbq, how do they cook it so well?
thanking him, i said i should go,
there was a ton of meat cooking
and i didn’t want to interrupt his
family function
Myron mentioned he lived alone,
that his wife Glenda had passed
away three springs ago and the kids
have all moved away
staring at him closer i realized how similar
Myron was to my own father, only a different
color
my dad sits on the porch during the day sometimes
and i wonder what it is he’s thinking about
when he sits out there
i imagine it’s the same thing we all think about,
death … when is it gonna happen
but before we die we worry about other things, too
like is this our last meal?
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
And so as a man, a job,
a cactus wearing a business suit sharing relations with the hydrant down the street.
A ***** strapped to a baby carriage with plastic baggie cellphones
yelling "run away now"
to the grass at his feet.
A man devoid of water, rather.
These are the times
A well, emptied.
Rather death
find waves of spilled milk and
all the fat people, skinny.
A dry mouth desert, kneeling
In either breath of a living feeling
or the one that talks of so much
for only the wealth of his screaming.
Some tiny furniture talked all night about running through wheat,
ebbing and flowing against the end tables,
then falling short as crumbling tree leaves.
An ottoman as recycle bin holding stem
from stem of watermelon children
and vine-ripened acetaminophen.
Some odd truth told the blowing wind that
God does cartwheels with Lucifer at random.
It then billowed out about
his ***** underwear and holy fodder for memorandum.
I would say a man, a vision,
A little girl using a GPS to calculate the distance from the rest her teething.
Instead, she found a funny barbeque ***** playing hog-tied pharmaceutical reps into neoprene
mud-flapping pigeons.
I would say the sinking plastic six-pack islands revealing trash limbs,
sunken,
honest,
grim.
Life, itself, must move in tandem to only fleeting geese.
Though in plan, the artisan-picking fruit of word must be depicted.
Live in sin and ignorance much like the
breaking news walking on broken record.
And so as a man; a fear.
He looked down, staring at no one
with bare feet and shaken, coconut flavored palm trees.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
Tea fer Two.
Pickle me a Dolphin; sprinkle liberally with rye,
whip us up a Butter cup on Snake n Pygmy pie.
griddle ten rare rats **** soaked in sauce o' barbeque;
serve it all in the banquet hall; for liddle me n you.
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC
Virginia Nicholson
How To Build A House In N-Dimensions
1. Begin with lines, pencil to paper (if they could exist) drawing graphite arrangements, N-space reduced to one, a structure viewed in slices. Imagine the bathroom off the foyer, the den off the dining room, viewable only as inked lines, dit-dit-dah, a contractor’s Morse Code.
2. Progress to carpet squares, linoleum tiles, the coral paint pairs well with the eggshell trim. Dit-dah-dit becomes something useful to the non-contractor, “door” or “Master Bedroom” or “x hundred feet of pipe.” Envision the imagined patterns hidden in the bathroom floor, the kitchen hardwood.
3. Move to volumes, solids, conic sections, height. One story, two stories, a basement, an attic?, take advantage of the introduction of 3D. Upgrade the closet to walk-in, needs more carpet squares. A snapshot of a family barbeque, Charlie’s height 1D penciled in to the 3D door, marring 2D eggshell paint.
4. Adding time, the house is built, ages, gets sold to new families with little Charlies of their own, new markings on the cupboard door, 3-foot-2, 3-foot-5, 4-foot-9. Grass fades from Kelly to sand to Kelly, saturation a cosine function with respect to time. The Zoysia starts in one, breaking ground in two, growing in three, a well-manicured 4D experience.
5-11. Include the things invisible to us, objects on the order of 1 meter, orders of 10E-2 to 10E9 seconds. Five to eleven drip through leaky pipes, seep through porous flooring, get lost in iron-rich soil and oxygenated exhalations. Five to eleven stay hidden, wrapped up in Calabi-Yao manifolds smaller than graphite hills and valleys marking little Charlie’s height, stronger than the 2-by-4s and stone foundation keeping strong in 4D. Five to eleven circulate undetected, seven dimensions shrunk to sub-pinpoint size, keeping seven dimensions of unexplainables covered until their traces are seen in the blades of Zoysia.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
I gave you what you needed,
To set the sparks we breathed,
But that was never enough for you,
When it was enough for me.
We used to flame the ground,
Dirt now liked in ash,
We started the biggest wildfire,
but the flames could never last.
Yeah,we made a wildfire,smoke lit the sky,
But it all cleared up,when you left my life.
Now you're gone,the fires died down,
And im ashes in the rubble of remains.
I nolonger smell the lovely scent of the smoke you created,
Barbeque cookout in the middle of July,
Now all I smell is gasoline from your decent to flee away,
Without a goodbye or any say.
I nolonger feel the heat of your skin that'd keep me warm at night,
It's all dark and cold and scary,dont have your fire as a light.
I don't have the confidence I used to have,
you set the flame and burned it out,
Wonder if livin without cha is worth it.
My sky is clear for me while it's smoke for someone else,
?eft my prairie of daises and roses for a forest of trees and elk.
I have no more flames with me,theyre for another land,
But I wish you could disclaim it,come back,
Give me a chance.
Yeah,we used to make wildfires,
And smoke would light the sky,
And even though the fires gone,m
My love for you still burns on,
And my sparks seen by every eye.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC