"cheeseburgers" poems
chihauhua with cheseburgers for feet
why do u have cheeseburgers for feet
i could get it some cleats
to put on ur feet meat
and so there will be cleats on ur feet meet
and then ill feed u some beats
so u dont have to eat ur delcious cheeseburgers for feet
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
You quote from Leviticus
Call me an abomination
As you eat cheeseburgers
And claim a Christian nation.
You don’t ****** daughters
Who have had unmarried love
Yet, demonizing gay people
Fits you like an expensive glove.
You vilify your children daily
And quote the bible to boot,
While you work on the Sabbath
In your fine mixed-fabric suit.
You talk so glibly about us
Out of both sides of your mouth.
You are embarrassing examples
Of the sickness of the Old South.
You just ain’t right.
Your head’s on wrong.
Your hypocritical ravings
Are the cause of this song.
You’re a liar and a nut
And you’re halfway crazy.
We'd make laws against you
But we’re too **** lazy.
You wave your hands and pray
In public so you are well seen.
You copy your Christianity
From the latest People magazine.
Your idea of pious philosophy
Is way off the Christian track.
If I ever shake hands with you
I’ll count the fingers I get back.
You just ain’t right.
Your head’s on wrong.
Your hypocritical ravings
Are the cause of this song.
You’re a liar and a nut
And you’re halfway crazy.
We'd make laws against you
But we’re too **** lazy.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Things Fall Apart
(Chinua Achebe knew that)
We are what we will be;
What we eat.
Oh, what a world!
What will Rufus think when we are all
Cheeseburgers?
Running the world
(my favorite pastime)
Everyone loves a cheeseburger
But what about the raw ones?
There are too many out there
NO FEAR!
THE GRILLMASTER IS HERE!
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,
I will silence the vegetarians,
And raise the price of organic goods!
That will show them!
And read my lips:
NO NEW TAXES!”
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
Maybe it was the first time I gazed upon brilliant brown eyes that needed a second look to satisfy my desire. Maybe it was the moment when greetings dropped from your mouth, my eyes transfixed on the sound resonated from within. The seconds we spent swapping hellos down hallways made my smile glow, I can’t define perfect but, you’re the only one close enough to tickle its chin. Skip five paces forward, now we aren’t like two peas in a pod, we are too tight to snuggle up close to anything. I can still smell the scent of cheeseburgers and teenage angst as you and I wasted away our day with jokes filled with *** innuendoes and american stereotypes. The face you make when laughing causes me to reclaim my thoughts of what universal beauty can be. You made forest fires look like buckets of ices when you stepped in a room, wearing that navy blue dress with ruffles filled with humility and self-confidence. Maybe it was the moment you can to me for help. I would do anything for a third look at brilliant brown eyes, enough time for me to escape any painful memory from first period. It could have been the first time I saw you blush when I called you beautiful. Rosey red cheeks never looked so good on tan skin before. I don’t think I could go without saying, it might have been the first time I was able to wrap my arms around your waist and lift you from tiled floors, giving you freedom to fly. My dear Julia, I hope these words shine a light of perpetual friendship, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. So in your native tongue, Eu te amo.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
The smoking and drinking and snorting and fighting and drinking and crashes and drinking were not good for him.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One summer, when he was 16, everyday he would take a bottle of wine from his mother's liquor cabinet, buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, meet up with his friend Mario, who also stole a bottle of wine, and together they would ride down to the river and smoke and drink and swim. Everyday, for a full 1970's summer they did this.
And now he tells me, that at the time they were having fun and they were not worried about money or addictions or the future.
They were just having fun.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One day, in the dead of fall 1981, he and his friends Mario, Mark, ****** and John all got together at Mark's apartment on the corner of 51st and Diablo boulevard. They hit the town, drank, snuck into movie theatres, harassed girls and had a good time. They returned to Mark's apartment at 2 am and thought it a good idea to steal Mark's mom's new car. They decided to go to Reno.
Driving, as my dad put it, well above the speed limit on Highway 49, they collided head on with a big rig. There were no fatalities but my dad broke his shoulder and suffered a minor concussion. Mark's mom chose to not press charges nor did the driver of the big rig. The next day my father was back at work, refusing to adhere to the doctor's orders of taking it easy and wearing a soft cast, entrapping his left arm against his chest, climbing under cars, changing oil, and repairing engines.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One cold winter's day, in December of '82, my father's ever faithful companion, Mario, picked my father and his dog, Wimpy, up and they drove over to a small burger joint named Big A's. My father ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and a large rootbeer. Mario got the same, only with a single bacon cheeseburger. My father father gave his second bacon cheeseburger to his pitbull Wimpy.
My father was better to his dog than he was to his own body.
Now, my father coughs himself to sleep every night, and has chronic bronchitis. His liver and kidneys are shot and he plans to not live passed sixty. He will be turning fifty in two weeks.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
He loves many things,
Robbaz and skyrim,
KSP and Dark Souls,
Special K Red Berry with strawberry milk.
Double cheeseburgers with bacon,
Burning things to watch the fire,
Doing well and getting A's,
Movies that are vaguely 80's ish.
South Park, snuggles, and ***
And maybe. Just maybe, hopefully, possibly, me.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
soft
sweet
blue
bayyyybeeeeeee kitty
pink nose
black whiskers
sandy tongue
green eyes
smooth fur
im not playing..
im not playing...
ATTACK!
im not playing.. i'm cleaning..
i'm cleaning, i say!
ATTACK!
cuddle
caress
crazy cute
cats, i say, CATS!
what once was an autonym has now become a species nickname
biskits
not the kind with butter and jelly
the kind with paws for feet
the kind with purr eruptions
boeboe, executive chef
macmillyun, geometric artist
professor pinenut, astrometrics physicist
ridiculous or brilliant?
how could you name your cuddly companion nothing more than something totally great?
laser eyes
can haz cheeseburgers
oh.gee meme
im not sure that anyone else takes the cake (fish, of course)
beating the canine, every time
instinct and balance
not to mention wit
theres not competition
other than size (which they don't seem to grasp)
i hope that when i die
i can meow next
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
2038--neurolotto
You SEE
sometime
in years yet seen
science
will make
our bodies last longer
a decade or more
but questionable advances
will allow
our BRAINS to live
for…millennia
or longer
submerged in
a neuro-friendly elixir
connected to
electric eyes and ears
freed from
frothing fears
about our body’s
dutiful decay
BUT even with infinite leaps
in scientific skill
and our relentless will
(to be around for eternity)
only a few will have the means ($$$$$)
for such magic cyber machines
and joyful juices
to keep them THINKing
10,000 years or more!
So, the powers that be
will have a grand lottery
though millions will apply
(while 10 billion others know their own brains will die)
only a few thousand will have the privilege
of having their few pounds of cranial fat
placed in a perpetually guarded vat
for helpless these brains would be (!)
if they were left at the mercy
of those who could not pay
to extend their time to play
on this rolling rock
What things they will get to see
floating in the magic juice (!!)
But…walks in the park
will be only a waking dream,
thinking about cheeseburgers
will be calorie free,
for the sense of smell and taste
will, of course, be history
music will sound a bit…strange
for the best implants
won’t replace the old ear
a passionate kiss
and the a n t i c i p a t e d bliss
of more
will be a sweet (??) memory
a “sweet” memory…?
Or just a memory
for when freed of the flesh
can sense and soul still mesh?
Can THINKing
we are FEELing
suffice?
and will we really
savor the cyber sight
or cringe in FRIGHT
of round spaghetti *****
floating in other preciously guarded vats
that we KNOW
are our only bodiless friends?
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
saying **** off* seems so much more
easier when you're petting cats....
they just say it for you...
there he is, Quarus,
the operatic singer nearing sunset,
200 variations of a mulling of meow,
i end up calling him Orbison Rufus,
the ginger Roy of Peckham -
he basically meows lazily like Roy
singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras
or umbrellas - counting the shadows'
version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo
ah-woo nagging the reflex...
gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s
America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of
Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater
with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with
the herding in while the dog carved a feel
for religion in the translation of the Vatican
from coliseum into football requirements...
the movies were great in the 1950s, just after
the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill...
the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo
in a cave to knock-on-wood...
200 variations of the knock
and 12 whiskey shots downed
while playing poker... 12 cowboys
1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino...
i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving
out smoke signals...
Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed...
he's Roy Orbison with the meow,
pretty much lazy...
looks like a murmur when he tries singing,
pretty woman, trolling down the street,
Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy,
as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled
white collars... Roy knew before Elvis...
the trick came with sunglasses,
and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing
for subsequent mouthing it off...
no amount of cheese in French could ever
charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers
with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch
laughing cows named Novices....
quick-melts and some said:
dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled
for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down
a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot;
the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic
of the thumb through to pinky...
i don't know how they taught counting
with their complex ideograms, they never taught
arithmetic give their encoding...
they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest
of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Interactive poetry: This poem to be read in a stereo-typical Tennessean female drawl
Why Elvis, let me tell you Elvis just loves Cadillac automobiles
And Elvis he is passionate for his sixguns
Why Elvis is simply devoted to his Mama
And don't you know Elvis he idolizes The Colonel
Now Elvis is wild about Harley- Davidson motorcycles
Truth is Elvis worships his fans
Oh Elvis he's quite mad for The Beatles, all four of them!
And naturally Elvis adores animals
I can't begin to tell you how much Elvis dotes over Lisa-Marie
and Elvis just adores animals...Oh heavens to Betsy didn't I just say that already
Oh my oh my Elvis is a peacock for fancy stage wear
Elvis Aaron Presley praises The good Lord Jesus
Oh The President, Elvis truly admires The President
And Elvis reveres The Stars and Stripes
Oh did I mention Elvis is crazy for cheeseburgers
Why Elvis he just loves drugs
Why Elvis just...
Why... Oh Elvis why?
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
My father has threatened to leave
More times then he said he’d stay
Made my mother cried more tears
Then he voluntarily cleaned up
Hurt my brother
More times then he’s helped him
Called me names
More times then he’s fought them
My father didn’t associate himself with me till I was nine
He forget my birthday
More times then he remembered it
Took credit for the gifts my mother wrapped till her finger bled
Ate his cheeseburgers
While my mother was at the gym
Because he said she need to lose weight
Before she bought that dress
My father is a monster
More then he is a man
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
I bought carrots, and kale,
coconut oil that was on sale
avocados, and blue berries,
vitamin supplements
in a desire to stay healthy
out of fear of my mortality.
But I miss donuts
and sugar coated cereals.
I miss monster energy drinks,
taco pizzas, and cheeseburgers.
I miss what was killing me slowly,
suicide by snail’s place.
I once raced to gain weight.
Now I eat things I hate,
longing for something dangerous on my plate.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
Chocolate chips creamy cheese cake, chum,
Chilled with chunks of chopped cherries in ***
Try chilly chips with saucy chops,
Or chicken cheeseburgers with spicy chips.
It's chef's chic choice hmmm....
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
odd things, humans.
we like to say it'll be okay
in the end,
if only to fool ourselves that it can't be over
until we're brilliant again;
we like to say
we've only got to be brave, believe
we can drown old scars
in cheap beer,
talking up the next new distraction
until we're breathless, believe
we're dancing through our darkest hours,
and dawn will come in a moment,
holding hands with a graceless hangover --
and you call up your favorite ex-girlfriend
for a day to spend *******
each other senseless
and talking about World War II
battles lost due to
failure in communication.
she's okay with your sloppy metaphors
as long as you stop
for cheeseburgers on the way home.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
elders carry stories
of themselves foaming
at the mouth
like rabid dogs
like the language they spoke
was *****
Nuns with sharp rulers,
sharply ruled the catholic schools
No choice, but to
submit and Americanize
with cheeseburgers and denim
lonely tears for home
missing the
gentle breeze of pine and juniper trees
while forgotten brothers and sisters hang with
touchy pastors whose love for Christ
told them to be quiet.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
^¡^
^¡^
^¡^
Plain and brown
Ubiquitous
Seen yet never seen
Like street workers
Or bellhops
Or busboys
Or homeless.
Scrappy little scavengers
Scraping out a small lifespan
In cracks of concrete
In city streets smelling
Of asphalt and skidmarks.
They hop along
Like yesterday's newspaper
Or a 5X81/2 inch flier
For last night's bar-band.
Dandelion's fluff.
Outside of McDonald's
They congregate competing
With each other for
Hamburger buns which
Cling to cold
Half eaten cheeseburgers.
Greasy french fries
Which cause congestion
In their legs so severe
That they shrivel up
And fall off.
Yet God sees every one
Of them. Loves them.
His eye is always on them.
They do not fall
From the branch
Without being
Counted.
A freedom we
Will never know
Is their portion.
They are unencumbered
By the ground
While we are
It's slaves.
Their 🎶🎶🎶
Tells us we will
Always be thus.
We will always envy
The soul of sparrows.
Write of Passage aka
SoulSurvivor
2022
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 3:51 AM UTC
3 nights
of
chatroulette:
New Mexican college girls &
Jessika
from Sweden ...
-- beats couchsitting i guess! tho
end up doing
enough of
that
come 4 AM
, playing battlefield 3.
next night
drives
to sportcheck
for new skates, 1.5 hr
sessions in McCafe
piledriving value menu ($1.49 ea)
bacon cheeseburgers
trying to avoid the bar.
(those same conversations:
*"how've you been since
last i saw you here?"*)
-- cutting off match heads in tyler's room,
tossing them
into
battered
kleenex box, 2000
of 'em --
propellant for some
jury-rigged
pipebomb:
two blasting caps/
1
in each end,
courtesy Snow Lake Lodge.
drive around looking for
detonation site (field, preferably, nice & open/but remote...)
tyler & jeremy arguing
up front,
have coat over my head
in th'backseat reading
Mexico City Blues...
O Kerouac ! / better man / than i !
(this my liver
would dispute,
"YOU treat me right!!")
-- guess i never have been
over-fond
of drinking alone ...
. .
(that often)
tell me : how is this great?
a bang & some
shrapnel,
zinging thru the woods?
-- i'm bored to tears;
take me home to my good chair
where i can read these blues
in peace.
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 10:19 PM UTC
I am from "Shut up" and "Why are you so stupid?"
From an older brother who's opinion for some reason matters
From skinny jeans, skull shirts, dresses, and boots
I'm from cheeseburgers and fries with family and ice cream cake
I'm from hay rack rides on haunted trails during Halloween
I'm From sheet music that comes to life with each note
From the smell of my leather jacket in the rain
I'm from dream boards and bucket lists
From clarinets and microphones
From "you're Michael's little sister?" or "you're Mrs. Hanson's daughter?"
I am from the black, grey and white ball of fur cuddling next to me while I sleep
From my best friends tears as I beg her not to go and trying to make her feel better in hopes she'll be ok
From my boyfriend's smile that transports me to a completely different universe.
I am from days at work and weekends with friends
I am from learning:
There aren't always happy endings but you have to keep trying until you find one
Music and books taught me that we can escape from our reality
And my mom, who taught me everything I know
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
I wear a suit and tie all day
slave to a clock
come home tired and irritable
while the lion just does whatever it wants
and has the entire Serengeti to roam
picking off Wildebeests until it is satisfied
but it can't use a computer
or a microwave
and it doesn't have an air conditioner
but then all these things
are in my little cage
I'm not sure who has the better life
But I bet the lion would think
cheeseburgers and french fries
on value menus wherever we roam
are pretty awesome
I'm sure we would be good friends
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Shout
When your head's in a funk
if you smell a dead skunk
when goosed by an elephant's trunk
when your money is spent
ate cheeseburgers during lent
don't know where your life went
shout
if your lover has split
left you in a childish fit
you're so mad you could spit
you hear the same song and dance
from politicians there's not much of a chance
changes will come with that stance
just shout
if your skin is getting wrinkled
your hair with gray is getting sprinkled
not sure when's the last time you tinkled
if you forgot where you were headed
those final exams so dam dreaded
St. Pete's approval you've so fretted
you need to shout
maybe someone will hear
before you disappear
your cries so clear
not ready to say goodbye
buy a new bottle of dye
spike your hair up real high
and shout
Morpheus aka Gomer LePoet...
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 8:57 AM UTC
Little Scarlet Mouse Girl
and I
had very little cash
left from pay day
in my days as a
projectionist at the
cheap theatres
and her time at
a head shop
that didn't keep very good books
But it was enough to
buy a few cheeseburgers
before my shift
on Christmas morning
and Little Scarlet Mouse Girl
says muffled through
a huge bite
"Jack in the Box burgers
taste like ****
and quickly adds
"Not that I would know".
She dropped me off and kissed me
as the snow flurries gathered around
our feet
and I had thought for sure
at that moment
this was the person I would spend my life
curled around
Regardless of the drugs
our tongues were acquainted with
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
Dragging my *** to the liquor store
After midnight on a brand new Tuesday
I sort of wish
That I could sit cross-legged in a desert somewhere
With the sun ripping into me
And sweat out all the cheeseburgers I ever ate
All that yellowy cheddar would ooze out of my pores
All the slippery chunks of meat would fall off my forehead
And sizzle in the sun
Maybe all the tar from all the cigarettes would slip out too
All the whiskey would steam off into the great big blue sky
All the slaves my great great great whatevers owned would come whooping freely out of me
All the meanness and rudeness and all those little selfish thoughts would drip on out
The *** would crawl right out of my *****
And any little pieces of broken hearts would fly back to their owners
And I'd wither into a shrunken pillar of pure good
That'd be nice
A relief
But if there was a shred of me left on my bones
I'd probably just drag my *** to another liquor store
To celebrate
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
The Woman of the World
Who declares that
On her journey to London
She realized how disgusted she is
With America
And
Our misgivings
As she orders
Cheeseburgers and Beer
While men throw
Around the horn
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 2:17 AM UTC
on strange days I wish I smoked cigarettes
I feel particularly weird on strange days
like my skin wants to vacation
on strange days I take the music box out of my pocket
then play it for my nostalgic neighborhood children
as they run through summer time sprinklers
feasting on cheeseburgers and french fries
humming to the key of my music box
drugged by this warm summer afternoon
on strange days I stare at blank sheets of paper and empty ashtrays
morning knocks on my window telling me it's time for bed
time for bed I say on this particularly strange day
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 1:10 AM UTC
There is nowhere to go.
Not a place unforeseen.
Throughout this land,
of mysterious things.
I wonder..
Am I to make of it a dream?
Or lie victim to its squander,
with pity to my name?
My soul thirsts for a taste of substance,
a place to call home,
cheeseburgers with mustard.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC