"breaded" poems
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).
Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).
No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run
to
***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).
Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
21.8k
The KFC bucket has chicken
It's so good I be finger lickin
O how I can only wish that there is a dish of breaded chicken
How I love KFC the taste the feeling in my tummy
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
Salty with a tang
My Great Aunt Nita’s little gift
To make us happy…
They are
I’m not
I worry like a mother about her child
She’s gone again
Dead to the world
No matter how much shaking and calling I do
She’s gone
Another breaded miracle in my mouth
Yum
Momentary bliss, a high
Then the crash
Fried pickles distract, but
Once reality returns
I’m still worried
She’s still gone
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
"You're a disaster", he said.
I know, I know, I know.
Because I never know where I'm going.
Because roads are still new territory
Even though I've lived here for years.
Because I sneeze in evens and cough in odds.
Because my socks never match
And you still react like you're not used to it.
Because I catch pitter-patter on my tongue in spring.
Because singing in the shower counts as talent
Although my snaps are missing rhythm.
Because I wrap my guilt thick like a December sweater.
Because I regret nothing and everything
A moldy breaded soup sandwich.
"You're a disaster", he said.
"But I'll always want to clean up your messes"
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
-Parsley flakes
-Cheap pens
-Memo notebook
-Breaded fish filets
-1% milk
-Bleach for the bathroom floor
-Brillo pads
-Italian Wedding soup
-Instant meals
-Pushpins
-2 cans of fruit cocktail
Man, I grew up on fruit cocktail.
Waxy cherries, see-through grapes, grain pineapples,
and wrinkled peaches bathing in thick syrup,
waiting to see 1990s kitchen lights.
But it probably costs $2, or more, now.
And I've got a car I need to keep runnin',
a house I gotta keep standin',
a job I have to keep goin' to /
keep bustin' my *** for.
I guess I can see how things go
in the next few years.
Maybe it'll be in paste form then.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
The Night Left
With the smack of a
Panko breaded sunrise
Poppies in the garden
And passionflowers
Peering
through banjaxed window frames
Brusque Coffee roughing up my arteries
Damson Coloured smoke
Bacon & Bacon & Eggs
A little vignette of perfection
Let this morning dawdle
like the hangover that chased the stars out.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
My lover of the night she was a biter,
what can I say I liked that way she
****** on parts other than my neck.
But I threw caution to the wind, I had
a cold, eating breaded mushrooms.
She was coming around as night fell.
Mouthwash not wanting my breath
to smell like the undead on her lips,
she is eternally flawless in moonlight.
I guide her downward towards my
stake, she can bite off more than she
chews, and then some more.
I tell her to take it in taking it all, but
then a scream as I expelled my life blood
as my fanged beauty turns to dust.
I wonder what happened no light or
garlic? then I read the empty wrapper
garlic mushrooms, this really *****
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
The wind that shakes the trees
Blows through my coat,
Lifts up the tails
As if to gloat;
"I am free."
The wind that beats these window panes,
The voice that calls this pain again;
"You're indignant to fate," they said.
But I cannot accept their breaded promisings,
My thoughtless relinquishings
Of lost, listless, loving tales
Grown stale in my thumping heartbeat
Beaten by stalling, broken, dreams.
The wind that shakes these trees,
Blows me away with the leaves.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
Slightly sweet cinnamon to tempt my taste buds,
Warm comfort found in breaded swirls, fresh,
from the oven to my plate, my lonely appetite to sate,
I won't eat them, those dozen all...at once,
It is too late at night and no time for stunts.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Bomb shell
She is hard to quell,
Lost in her eyes
You will find dark skies,
Raining on you
Answers few,
Who would have known
Your heart would have flown
So high so far
Bottle her in a jar,
Like the sweetest of jellies
Peanut butter on breaded bellies,
Find no harm
In her sultry charm;
Glossy lips
Hypnotizing hips,
**** temptation
Make us all rise as a nation,
Amazing overtures
Praise her curvatures,
Such is this flora in a faraway Terra;
For her you'd cross any Sahara....
© okpoet
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
Today is my birthday
And I don’t have to do a thing.
Not if I don’t want to
I can go on lying around loafing.
I can get up way late
And go to bed as late as I want.
I can watch cool movies
And I have birthday cards to flaunt.
I can have ice cream
And copious amounts of cake.
I can eat like a pig
Until there is no more I can take.
I can sit in BVDs
Or less if I so decided to do.
It feels so good to me
I may take off another day or two.
It means I am older
But it all feels the same to me.
I will change the number
But I don’t feel any differently.
I still like chocolate
And chicken fried and breaded right,
And good sci-fi movies;
Maybe two or three each night.
So sing me the song
And I will blow out the candles.
I’m ready for the party
And all the fun we can handle.
It’s not about presents
It’s all about the celebration
And one more year
In joyous, grateful continuation.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
It's hard to see how unread the love we share becomes. How strangely women turn off our solo.
White snow stealing the grass
So children can ride them.
The unforgiven gardens to secret
Soil.
You didnt know you didn't know.
It's all you, it's all you.
The Canadian geese chasing the ducks
Hoping for hand outs.
Is all we will ever feel
And all we ever hold back
Because our tireless souls
Have liove with our strange
Breaded dreams
To show our serenaded
Screaming psalms amongst the pitty of rainy days
And make us hunt those midnight
Martini kisses player fashion.
But now comes the kicker and we are settled. To rap that we have lost our
Main vision forgotten so ignorently lost.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
My fingernails crave your skin
Hard red assassins
My fingernails sweep your skin
Texturizing our love
In every corner of your body
Your breath is twitching
Melodiously
You fill with air
Speak to me in tongues
On a plate like a breaded chicken breast
Marinating in a fine Italian wine and Balsamic Vinaigrette
Sauce craving an open flame
Homemade.
I'm falling asleep
I'm falling asleep
To the digging of a Disco party on a late
Friday night in yellow polyester baby blue You forgot
To pick me up, again but it's okay 'cause I'm
Stayin' Alive.
In a plexiglass life.
See right through it, it's translucent
Then never look at me again.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
I smell cookies baking
There are no cookies baking
What do I smell?
A childhood memory to a
Time and place of comfort?
Wanting the past to last?
Other triggers:
Grilled cheese sandwiches
Campbell’s tomato soup
Breaded fish sticks
Polka-dotted Wonder bread
Liverwurst and catsup
The tasty tang of tang
The nose knows; I’m
Olfactory traveling
Memory meandering
Still, I really smell
Those cookies baking…
I want to go home again
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
In the sands now,
The castles crumble,
You are salted, breaded
Of eternity and old song how
Under the mute whine of stars
Sings a lost melody all shall
Soon enough join in corals,
The dive into the stretches
Beyond strands and untoward
What light there surely may come,
Beckon, like recurring dreams
Of fathoms yet to be discovered,
The rivers of time have slipped
You by, here riding now in tides
And driftwood under stars, sails
Moving by masted spars' rowing,
Your rude cross, commemorating,
All that was dearest, too soon lost,
The ferried bones to sea from sky.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
can't litter facets-
love masked cold.
can't litter facets-
put the Herse in
neutral & wait for
us to pass the finish
line; fuel economy
like 2 looped circles
loosely grasping each
finger as newborn flesh
to pan-fried / breaded
chicken.
that's the advert I was
clickin'.
figured I'd be dead by
now.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Anteloping arms, grappling smiles
Errors of houses arranged alphabetically
The breaded butter, the backbones
Of traditional garland, alit with bulbs,
Collapsing tinsel and tin harmonies
A belated world, buffeted with meat
Lacqured in liquors, merriness gay
Flipping shadows about the streets
Holiday
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
dream your beautiful dreams bread cat friend
and when you wake upon the morrow,
find that all the world has lost its sorrow
take to the day with a spring in every step
and let the long-awaited joys you’ve kept
inside your heart come streaming out
till with sheer wonder you must shout
and may you grow and love and be
in every abstract aspect free
and in the earth plant seeds of hope
that will help you in the future to cope
with all the anger, pain and fear
that will afflict you in the coming years
this i want for you, o breaded cat friend;
let the platonic love we share know no end.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
It's all about putting food on the table when you're older.
But what about the food for my soul?
What will I do when my heart is hungry?
Money comes from jobs, where does soul food come from?
Momma's kitchen bakes no breaded lies, food on the table will always be more important than the food for my soul.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
Light conquers darkness and brings about a new day
A change of mind a change of time a change of mankind
Reasons to believe seasons to recieve
Rise above and percieve overcome and achieve
People being humiliated modern day segregation
Reputations arradicated in need of a destination
Hearts and minds pierce the skies
Part the clouds and ask God why
But answers comes in a pace and sometimes slow
Why the heck we born in the first place if this is how we gotta go
Sufferings and struggles hardships and troubles
Sisters against brothers fathers against mothers
The strong rewarded the weak covered
Shackled in ******* social injustice
Reality brings about change all things change
Life becomes a game rain brings pain
Snares and options prayers and promises
The flares are launching down the dungeons
Embeded in a state of mind breaded to overcome hardtimes
Headed for the sunrise bled from a certain bloodline
Vikings and alliance titans and giants
Spirits dying minds rising
Full of hope full of pain in my mind all things change
But will i survive this game the question still remains the same
The battle is not for the weak nor for the strong
Wisdom is a gift the mind is its home
They say that i will never make it never achieve
The odds are against me but im still believing
Today i shall suffer tommorrow is a mystery
If i pray before the trumphets i shall overcome with victory
Let these words be heard before the mighty throne
Let peace be subperb enough to live long
Move the housetop and part the sky
I surrdender my heart and free my mind
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
dozing or writing poetry
always seems so much better than
the alternative
going out-
stale *******
package left open world
spoiled.
Don't cry over spilt milk
don't cry over the bed you made
or this tower you built.
you were in on it.
every over bred chicken
ground and breaded
we rename our stupidity all cutesy.
So if that's the only way I can appeal
to you
the only way you can hear
so you might heal,
then take a chicken nugget of wisdom
and go check out the kitchen.
What are they cooking up?
the putrid toxins of dissention
racism named "culture"
police brutality spelled "justice"
hidden
organized
normalized.
News sources with the
long-standing trust
of the public
but they're slowly becoming
a part of the budget.
Cheap food and the six o'clock news
commercial break for cigarettes and *****
we're spoon fed
and we choose it.
Plastic bred
poison fed
under the guise of choice
and an easier life.
Hard nights
bar fights
at least the taco bell
is open past midnight.
While your brain is soup
eat a little more sludge
and when you're uncomfortable and confused
well,..
I told you to run.
C.e.M. 8.14.15
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
All I can say is she's full of deception
For it was Breaded in sand and dirt
But yet it occurred
The words didn't slip,
But fell
She says the words break up
Together in one sentence
Till this day I feel as if I was sentenced
For I can not get over such beauty combined together,
She wears around more then a purple feather
For she was once my valentine
For her personality is free flowing
For she gathered my heart up without knowing
She is unknowingly the girl of my dreams
But dreams have to end sometime
For love no longer streams for me.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
When I stepped off any JetBlue flights
I always look forward in passing through customs
like a relief of fresh air, as I broad a taxi
and homeward to the hills,
Now it's like humiliations taking over one's pride:
#Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. #
The smell of the countryside fresh air,
The picturesque that blanket the countryside, (pleasing)
The welcoming of the breaded goats bleeping (Pleasing)
moves the little girl inside of this old gal.
These days it’s which hotel should I booked for my days stayed
in Quarantine, or which government facility will I be sent off too
Between a rock and a hard place,
I can’t stress hard enough about those Chinese.
Which make our Lebanese bombers looks like saints?
My fainted heart can’t stand this new normal:
The bleach rocks on the sands awaits my arrivals,
And I for one can’t wait to see this corvid19 as a historical memory
Too much emotional, overload for most of us.(including me) however,
being too hasty can also be deadly, or one would say
Don't be hasty to hug! That was never a problem for me
I never hug, anyone...
Keep your distance, I keep mines too
Poetry is also a distance, that why I love to compose..
Long enough have I dreamed of happiness,
Now I waited for news to strived for happiness once again
To dance from dusk to dawn, at Q in the community
To walked freely on the sandy shore,
Without restriction, of a mask bandit,
I am not a swimmer, but to feel the salted water on my ashy feet,
The midst of sea upon my breast, and my cheap weaved curled into locks
That when I know, I am home again, upon that hill (Prout hill)
Where the neighbors' gossips, and tambourine echoes in the village church
On Sundays.
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
In the sands now,
The castles crumble,
You are salted, breaded
Of eternity and old song how
Under the mute whine of stars
Sings a lost melody all shall
Soon enough join in corals,
The dive into the stretches
Beyond strands and untoward
What light there surely may come,
Beckon, like recurring dreams
Of fathoms yet to be discovered,
The rivers of time have slipped
You by, here riding now in tides
And driftwood under stars, sails
Moving by masted spars' rowing,
Your rude cross, commemorating,
All that was dearest, too soon lost,
The ferried bones to sea from sky.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
Dear E--,
Sewing gold,
we walked
in the vacant
invisibilities.
In a hush-throated hall
we saw a Last Supper
of acrylic blocks,
breaks of the past.
Wooden masks
deviled the olive wall,
& we found tiles that
turned out our hands.
None of this sustained
you when the sun dropped
beams like pick-up-sticks,
aces of heat.
It didn't sustain you
when my friends
split like copper stills
across the breaded table.
The grand oil lamp
& the sea chant
became ash daubs
of noose memory
when I returned
to your dark room.
I'm sorry for every
thing I couldn't repair.
Every whorl
& loop in my hands
held you tight
as boas.
By the time I felt
your breath settle
into the delta of sleep
things had half-healed.
Still, I trembled
with sharp dreams.
In the morning,
I was yours again -
as I always was.
This is my apology.
Yours,
Evan
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 11:32 AM UTC