"biscuit" poems
The elegance of sitting in a coffee shop alone,
With a coffee to your right,
And a biscuit to your left,
Listing to the slow songs on your playlists,
No one to talk to,
Not the lonely kind of no one,
The comforting kind,
Everyone minding their own conversations,
Meanwhile you're all alone,
In the coffee shop,
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
When the bakery was bought,
For the sake of novelty, uniqueness, etc,
Called it ‘bitter’
Laddu was bitter
Jalebi ws bitter
Cherry was bitter
Bitter, bitter
What bitterness, said people
The servant got bitter
Sir,
There are no bill collectors to turn away
Flies mock
She at home
Serves bitterness
While sharing the alienation
Which novelty and uniqueness supplied,
With eatables,
Biscuit said
Let’s add the salt of tears,
Eatables will not sell
If bitter
‘Please give me something old”
When the sound of a beggar
Intervened
Myself, who stood for novelty and uniqueness
Told him ‘ you can have this bakery’
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
When did Wishes become as commonplace as pennies in Fountains?
When did Unicorns stop dreaming?
In a place where Unicorns can Dream
And Stars are Paths
And Fat Orange Cats are Sullen Irish Dancing Potatoes
With Biscuit Legs and Waterfall Eyes
With an Everything complex
Due to feeling the Absence of all
Whilst having felt an overwhelming Nothing
And Ant Butt's full of Honey and Air
Pirouette and bend their slim Amber eyed head backwards
To see such hopeless Unicorns Dreaming of
Trollops and Almosts who don't know what Mermaids are
Mermaids that only Sing Underwater
And watch Sullen Irish Dancing Potato Boy
With Biscuit Legs and Waterfall Eyes
And an Everything complex
Because Garfield can't figure out
If Fat Orange Cat is okay with loving Selfish Harlot Mermaid
Or not
Maybe we should all just stay Honey-Eyed Harlots
And Hero Twin Flames
Maybe the penny can be a Wish
And the Star's dust pathways
And Unicorns can see black instead of Dreams.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
Once upon a time,
in a land faraway,
lived an Oreo biscuit.
Everyone judged him--
he was black on the outside,
and white on the in.
He thought he would
never ever fit in.
Now in that land of biscuits,
where most were brown,
they all thought Oreo's
the strangest in town.
But little did they know
he was the favorite of the lot.
For in the human world,
his kind was the most bought.
Everyone learned to love him,
even the Fita guy.
But he told Oreo,
"Don't trust humans;
you won't want to know why."
But the Oreo boy,
he was a curious one.
He thought he needed to enjoy,
go out and have fun.
Later that night,
someone grabbed him, behold--
fear glazed over Oreo's eyes
over what he was told.
He was twisted and dunked
in milk till he drowned.
Then broken forever
and his life was summed.
For whatever Fita said,
it became so true.
Whatever happened to Oreo
Hopefully, won't happen to you.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Its a new day today
clouds and the sun, painted
all over the blue canvas
while I sit and sip my tea
and enjoy this happy feeling,
all worries kept at bay,
just bothered 'bout my biscuit
kept on the glass tray
whether to dunk it in the tea
or to taste it the crispy way
Why to think so heavy
its just the beginning
breathe a little now, relax
while the air is fresh and breezy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
The time in my youth that taught me about true peace
Was fishing with my Papa on the coast of the East
We'd get up in the morning before sunrise
Papa would wake me with sparkle in his eyes
I'd jump down from the bunk bed
When my feet hit the floor Smells of
Grandma's hickory bacon would rush to my head
She would wrap the bacon up in a biscuit and pack it to go
I'd grab the bag of bread crumbs we'd been saving
for the seagulls, to strew
We'd pile it all in the SUV
The poles clasped firm on the front bumper
Papa's clever bumper holder made of PVC
I can smell the salt air so clear
Papa and Grandma are always with me
Ahh, that is true tranquility!!!
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
you see i am very very hungry, so much in fact
i burp very weirdly, yeah i feel so weird
i burp loud and i burp soft when i have a nice cream bun or a nice beef nachos
and i feel like a nice packet of chocolate biscuits
ya know to have with my coca cola
i was watching ellen degenerous and i felt like eating the pie that went in the contestants face
yeah i feel like a bag of popcorn as well as choctop at the movies
because my mouth is burping very weirdly
i don’t want to have this burping feeling
i feel like a strawberry milk and i am fighting myself saying, no, i don’t need it
the strawberry milk says yes, i do, but i don’t want a strawberry milk, it’ll just make me fat
i wanna lose weight but the burping is making me want food, i want a nice chocolate bar
and i want a bag of marshmallows, i want to have more energy
so i can be a cool person, that i am,
i know the burping really is bugging me
and i do want it to stop, STOP, making me feel this way, i want to an artist and a writer and not an eater
please leave me alone strawberry milk and leave me alone chocolate biscuits, i don’t want to eat you
i feel like a chocolate biscuit, but then i say, i will grow fat, ya know keep the fat on me
i don’t want to be fat, i want to lose weight, so leave me alone ya ****** strawberry milk and coke
i want to feel fit in my mind, so i can write and be creative
please leave me alone, junk food, i don’t want to eat you
but the junk food gets in my mind and makes me smell the nice chocolate
i know coke used to be a medicine, but i don’t wanna drink ya
i like to have a healthy lifestyle, and i want to lose this burping because
it’s the medication making me wanna eat, like donuts and vanilla slices and cream buns
and dewok chinese stir fry’s and chocolate biscuits and chocolate desserts and strawberry milk
and a large bottle of coca cola, as my medicine, I DON’T WANT THAT
i had a garden salad for lunch as well as a few glasses of water
i hate being fat, so that means at 2-30 pm, i will go for another walk, whether i feel like it or not
because i must get rid of all this food from my body, so i don’t get diabetes
so if you feel fat, because you eat too much food, push yourself into walking
and walk a regular pace, so you don’t feel sluggish
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
*spread it on thick
on my bread and biscuit
lots of peanut butter
twice as thick
as grandma’s
makeup cake on her face*
peanut butter
more than tar on the road
peanut butter
with my naan and my rice
lay it on the noodles
and peanut butter with tofu
don’t forget a dollop
with the curry too
good pasta and pizzas
become better
soaked in peanut butter
Ye Olde English Sandwich
flames like a dragon
fixed with half a bottle
of the New World Inca paste
*spread it on thick
on my bread and biscuit
lots of peanut butter
twice as thick
as grandma’s
makeup cake on her face*
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
I fancied something to eat
Something tasty and sweet
But what a mistake to make
When you are going to get toothache
Wanted a biscuit with my tea
But all I got was misery
As I got ready to munch
I felt a tooth go crunch
Now all I get is pain
So bad, it is hard to explain
No pain killers can help contain
This agony that is making me insane
So I paid the Dentist a fortune in money
Because toothache is not very funny
Fighting my fear of that drill
So I try to keep very still
Mar 13, 2010
Mar 13, 2010 at 1:46 AM UTC
To a friend who shares coffee
you offer sugar,
love,
and a biscuit.
Night trained like a metronome,
is a dark lounge astride your kitchen window.
And a cool beacon,
the fridge-light ********** her briefly with the lick of its wake.
Across smooth tiles
the pleasant stealth of bare-feet,
certain rapture
and seductive inclusion is
love like a biscuit half eaten.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
My great grandfathers wore dreadlocks
Yet stood firm, proud as peacocks
Patrolling their territory paddocks
Today they are a source of mocks
A representation of sheer evil
In the world we foolishly call civil
Like an attempt on a biscuit by a weevil
We lost it.
Our great forefathers drank milk
And then over the mountains take a hike
Had absolute no need for a bike
Treated all men with respect alike
We are taking concoction for drink
May never cease to suffer sick
Rounded and diabetic as tick
We lost it.
They went to schools to learn practice
Learnt virtue and shunned away vice
To obey all the elders without a voice
Then there was little necessity for police
We are learning to sit all day in office
To treat subordinates with blowing malice
Learning theory, understanding without choice
We depend on book, written advice
Alphabets unlike words know no justice
Scratching as mice full of lice
We lost it.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
I’m rather fond of chocolate cake
I’d like to learn to knit
But I can’t abide Celine Dione
And Celery is ****
I find a book most comforting
And the odd banana split
But I hate celebrity look-a-likes
And Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I’m happiest by the fireside
Some music, I’ll permit
But I grit my teeth at gossipers
And dead ringers
Canadian singers
And Celery are ****
I love the air about my hair
And the grass beneath my feet
But I've never been too keen on wasps
And **** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I’m partial to a cup of tea
With a biscuit next to it
But I’ll never vote conservative
And insect stingers
**** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I like to bake a birthday cake
Or build a Lego kit
There are many things I truly love
But Right wingers
Insect stingers
**** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are STILL ****
**
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
You were always
an early bird, and I wasn't,
but my favorite thing was
to stumble out of my slumber
and hungrily look at my phone for a text saying
wake up
to which I would hurriedly respond,
though three hours later,
and you knew I would,
so as soon as I did as you predicted
you would command me to
drive the less-than-ten-minutes to your apartment
so you could cook me some
breakfast,
and we could get lost in each other.
You made me eggs and bacon
and always a biscuit with my choice of topping,
and you'd put on whatever CD we
currently found relevant,
that one time I know it was Ne-Yo,
and I chomped on my plate full of yummies
so cheerily
as you made me listen so closely to
lyrics you knew I would
just
get.
10 AM and I was somehow
thrilled to be out of bed,
enjoying the way the sun peeked behind the clouds
and stroked my cheek
as we shared a smoke on your porch.
You were the kinda guy that
made me like mornings,
that made me
feel the weight of the words in songs,
that made me appreciate art
and notice how pink
the sunset was,
that made me want to read the newspaper
so I could pick your brain and
pay attention in class so I could
tell you what I learned,
that made my world brighter
and my burdens lighter.
You were you and
you made me a certain kinda me and
**** do I sometimes still wanna
wake up
and eat some eggs while you
tell me your dreams and
your stereo plays.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Sitting in this dusty old attic
listening to the shingles flapping in the wind
I flip through a dog-eared book from my childhood.
As I skip through the pages,
I look up and notice the fine inlaid
carpentry work of an old chest.
Going over, leaving prints on the dusty floor,
I lift the lid. With reptilian slowness
a lazy fat spider edges away.
Inside this trove of ancient treasure,
magnificent finds of days gone by.
Mementos of a honeymoon, a parachute jump.
Gramma's best biscuit recipe. A photo of
Sam the hound with spittle running down his jowls.
A picture of a babe at his mother's ******
A permutation of these tucked away articles
give meaning to a life well and truly lived.
Closing the pages of these treasures I
wander away to watch my grandchildren
make memories of their own.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
morning coco pops and
silence in the low house
we creep around the halls
a playground, a waterpark
whatever we wanted
until he appears in the doorway
caught rapid hand in biscuit tin
wraps us in his puce embrace
it is in the wind that blows across the cold north beach
it is in the rain that bids hydrangea bloom
it is in the golden crust that tops the rhubarb ****
and in the weight that comes with "see you soon"
buzzcut season in the air
wooden hearts are carved with care
arrows fly through misty skies
watch him climb the spiral stair
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
(fictional tale of real beverages)
he sat at table number 9
she chose 10
their eyes never met
but only through the wall wide gilded mirror across the room
he thought her name was Faith
she guessed his was Luke
he took a sip from his mocha massimo every 41 secs
she guessed he was 41, slowly stirring her white-no-sugar earl grey
she wondered if the girl on page three of his 'Sun' was a blond, a brunette or a red head
he wondered what principle she's at in 'Why men love bitches'
they ate lemon and poppy seed muffins with small bites
his lips were firm
hers unable to hold on to the cheery blush lipstick any longer
he thought she was single and had a RSPCA rescued cat called Biscuit
she guessed he was married with three children and a wife called Porscha
she must be driving a Ka
he must be driving a Jag
she waters her plants every Tuesday, goes to pilates classes on Thursday and on Sundays she watches Terms of Endearment in her pink jumper with her friend Chris and a box of tissues
he walks his dog at 7, plays rugby for Long Lane on Saturdays and on Fridays goes for a pint of Guiness with his friend, Joe
he snores/ she sings in the shower
he's a catholic/ she never quite liked Jesus
he hates his wife/ she loves her cookies
they laugh at the old woman shouting at a bus driver in the street and hate gyms, cyclists in Lycra and anything to do with politics
they secretly read Keats, eat onion bagels and tomato soup and listen to Gershwin
*
they never spoke
they never will
because if they would
Faith would never be able to watch Star Wars again and Luke -
Luke would lose his faith in
love at first sight
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:52 AM UTC
Flick my white **** with a pic of a biscuit
hashtag
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Heaven is plain my choc biscuit
deceived me again with its ********
but it’s never enough
this addiction is tough
come away with me now and we’ll risk it
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 3:24 AM UTC
Just because they have disappeared
does not mean that
i'm clutter-free.
It's a cluster-free, a clusterfuck of ******* insanity.
My uncle left right after
my Grampa's funeral,
split like a chicken's *****
"he's in the airforce
or some other human-processing factory,"
Ma would say to me.
My aunt mable,
dipped out
dripped out two kids
then split
like a pillsbury biscuit.
My aunt pat's mom,
left Aunt pat on Aunt FLo's doorstep,
in the sole of her instep,
stepped out on a kid
and a husband
with a left shoe,
the right one
was left behind.
My pops
was forced out,
I saw him drag Ma
through the halls,
saw him whip her face in
with the brass-end
of a leather belt,
everybody's face was leathery
when the cops came in.
There is a litany of disappearing faces
in my family picture, a litany
of the disappeared
who reappear
over thanksgiving and christmas dinners,
when we wax nostalgiac
or hurt
over turkey,
gravy,
and biscuits.
Over love
and how many are missing.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
i saw a little mouse chewing on some cheese
then suddenly the mouse he began to sneeze
his eyes they were running and his nose was too
the poor little mouse he had caught the flu
i made a little bed and i put him in
with lots and lots of straw in a biscuit tin
i kept him nice and warm and i stroked his head
gave him lots of food making sure that he was fed
two days they had past and now the mouse was well
just so very tired so off to sleep he fell
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 8:24 AM UTC
A birthday party,
I turn as I lift this velvet curtain
unveil this night for you,
Sixty circus freaks unravel down the hill
like a coloured handkerchief
of liquid laughter,
all singing the circus theme.
The only tears are drawn on
and the smiles cut up to the ears,
a tap dance in a bathroom,
manic movements,
a tumble back up the hill.
Cherry liquor is juggled, smuggled around the room
to a clown sporting harlequin pantaloons.
I laugh, drink, talk,
like a mime I copy the idea of human.
A sudden disconnection of sometimes weirdness envelops,
I become an audience member,
able only to watch the show,
a speechless mime with my face in shadow.
A desire to shout into empty biscuit barrel silences
I test ringmaster reactions,
to get back in I perform in a freak show.
But my eyes catch eyes, a timed grasping on a social trapeze,
we swing above a net of old ties.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 3:54 PM UTC
It dropped upon all of us like
the cold dough of a drop biscuit
The baking is up to you
build a fire, soup on the stove,
sipping the steam off of a mug
of coffee,
hot shower
The shovel waits in quiet reserve near
the front door
Winter is not supposed to be here
But someone forgot to tell her
I pull out the cookie sheet
The cold dough
Transformed
Into the golden brown
Moments of my day
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
He runs with unbridled joy
And eats every biscuit that he licks
His eyes light up with every new toy
‘Twas a beautiful world and he was just six.
Learning to make friends at school
Coloring books, catching crooks
Pulling ponytails, breaking rules
Big eyes that mesmerize with every look.
Everything was beautiful bliss
But soon this peace was destroyed
His innocence was robbed starting with an unwanted kiss
And the soul became cold, dark and void.
The evil one dimmed his happy fire
And unsparingly exploited his vulnerability
Used his body for evil desire
Repeatedly ***** him most ruthlessly.
That boy with the spark in his eyes is gone
Salty tears instead of the chocolate ice creams
Blamed god for everything that went wrong
But Alas! No one heard his screams.
He lies down exhausted
Nursing his wounds and scars
Waiting for the train to come around
He was spared to live long and far.
The evil one took everything that he had
But today he fights continuously
To spare others, his fate as a lad
Defiance to the evil one he shows tirelessly.
Because there’s one hope that leads him on
Wounds will heal, scars will fade
Remembering the pain, he cries alone
My son, I’m with you , do not be afraid.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC