"coleslaw" poems
The natural you and what about him
The Zen gold egg climber Prince
Got his "Godly" rinse of the hen
We always knew their way upon
our thinking "Jumping Jack Flash"
But to be the change the day single
let's be feasible naturally, we mingle
The Holy water medieval drinking
By the night call, something is moving
Like a creature not in human form
We need to meet our expectations
More spoken revelations and terms
Naturally, we were born to be told
we have the fire to move any force
Even when our bones are getting old
That powerful love but someone is
watching us above
With higher hopes will make
it through lovesick she coughs
The Passageway like a click of her heels
Feeling the beauty but climbing high
Naturally being cool with her sigh
Or the carriage day vintage wine
Her lucky wheel
World’s are invitation the engagement,
The sweet words or the terms of endearment
Be the Higher lover up in the Prince bow to her
A need to get higher inside the
Castle what a love hustle like a stampede
The rampage turning the ancient pages
Rock and roll ages or the Gothic pale
Victorian beauty her name Judy
Sir page the Grand Marnier
or change of pace human race
The drink Moet
High Mighty King singing
Her heart shape ring beating
Fresh-cut or worn out smoke put out
Brighten her pleasure the rose repose
To be born not a piece of paper torn
Like a Queen reborn
For love how its spoken not just
City Girl with her token for-God-sake
can you look through her
wing turned up she is curled up
in her new threads of sheets
eyes please she is not ready
to hear goodbyes to your beat
What do you read is she naturally
beautiful than or now
Her naturally glow lights up
The Shakespearian castle
Two nature healers, not the
same as card dealers
Butterflies the fireflies
Her love shape naturally
that's no lie
It comes naturally to be loved __
More like homed bakes muffin ___
Google the nature of things spoken but
they may not come
Please don't wait too long
Perhaps there is always someone
to copy your song
Be the climber love for who she is
Her vegetables her sensuality is quite
organically raw
She loves her side dish coleslaw
How nature made us in the womb
Naturally spoken things like her sub combo
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
What makes a salad
salady? It can't be the salad itself:
lettuce leaves
us confused with
fruit salad,
broccoli salad
and coleslaw
(which isn't even a salad - or is it?).
Perhaps "salad" is the scrumpy sound
it makes when you munch on the mixture?
But what about
banana salad,
potato salad,
and tuna salad?
Should we still believe
in a definitionless dish,
or should we better define it?
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 4:17 AM UTC
Last year's version of the mind-body problem:
my mind gives orders that my body won’t obey.
It’s a problem.
The body’s warranty has expired and
spare parts are scarce. Plastic tubes
To help me drain have become part of my day.
So there’s still a will. But sometimes no way.
I am now my sister’s age when she died.
And some nights
as I lie down in darkness
there’s a moment of wondering
could this be the night
of the Great Reckoning
when everything I’ve said and done
goes mute and I am gone.
And crawling over me like a slow stain
is dread that everything important in life
has already happened. I remember some days
less than my dreams.
But friend, not this tone!
Let us write a history of now.
Body and soul, stand up and shout
“Baseball road trip!”
Car: check. Best friend: check. Nostalgia for a simpler
time. We can fake that one.
The red zigzags on our map turn into places:
Six ballparks in a week.
Detroit haze, gasping Chicago wind,
Milwaukee self-serve micro brew
Cincinnati chili and watering eyes,
Cleveland’s defiant self-love,
Pittsburgh’s Primanti brothers monstrosity sandwich—
Burger, coleslaw, and fries on toast.
The American dream tastes like fast food,
But the mystery lives between the lines.
Thwack of fastball into catcher’s glove,
Whock! of line drive into the gap,
Ball rolling free across the green
While the runner speeds for home.
Home.
Let’s keep going, friend.
There’s another bridge up ahead and
a ballpark’s lights shining somewhere in the dusk
of the upper Midwest and the open road
unrolls toward the setting sun.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
I tried to protect you by not remembering when the rabbis were teachers
and preachers we're on the beaches
Wishes were had in between sheets
Catfish spoken riddles but truthfully
Beautiful ripples in *******
So I was going to invite you over for txgiving but all pathology from the dsm-5 was represented. When I say over, I mean to KFC-
cousin Larry had to work but all the coleslaw and breadcrumbs you can swallow. How bout you did you get stuffed by the poultry-geist?
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
my father loves coleslaw
slaw saw
slop
slipping
and he bought a new car.
and he loves to wear orange.
I want to buy him
orange cars
orange trees for cabbages
growing onions
mayonnaise, my father is
a mayonnaise addict
amazing at it,
we eat artichokes
I hope you choke
my father never would
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 2:05 PM UTC
It is usually best to avoid
crushing hopelessness, to swerve
and defer disaster, but even so
the world is well and truly ****** up.
Seek solutions to this conundrum.
Try to avoid curiosity, a pernicious
strain of insanity that conjures up
irrational fears of orangutangs
with meat cleavers, lethally ascetic
Tibetan monks, bathroom carpets
of abandoned razors or Big Macs
rife with E. Coli.
Avoid metaphysical musings that lead
to questions of coleslaw, vegan
water parks, the Team Quadraplegic
Gymnastics squad and the horrors
of the Hilary Clinton Naked Network.
Seek refuge in the present tense to
escape the interrogation of mirrors,
the crafted answer, dacryphilia,
remedial rage, landslides of therapy
and memorizing each month's horoscope.
Consider that mercy is on back order from God.
Remember the best lines of an unread book.
Nap on a battlefield; haggle over imaginary debts.
Set fire to the umbrellas of passing strangers.
Stop to watch the loudness and burn the recovered dead.
Call up new magic for a dying world.
Find beauty in the irradiated glow of burning cities.
Try not to bounce existential checks or notice
the crumbling of distant walls, ruined outhouses,
and the immense bleakness of forever and ever.
Take up training small rodents and lighting holy fires.
Ignore the broken stars, long dead and beyond grief.
Discover the pleasure in erasure, enjoy the biology
of strangeness. Walk many miles without a map
beneath innumerable ladders carefully detouring
around immense flocks of rabid cassowaries.
Throttle the recalcitrant blue sky's silent throat.
Listen to the melody of car wrecks and smashed guitars.
Abandon assumed corpses to dreams of endless cold.
Appreciate futures you cannot believe in but never visit them.
Learn to diagram sentences in Esperanto then speak with toads.
Ignore the slot machine odds against your deepest desires.
Hide beneath the ravenous trees from time's famished maw.
Seek sanctuary in toothy optimism and complete amnesia.
Follow these impossible instructions to the letter
and you will become non-valent, invisible, immune
and no longer notice the world is ****** up
beyond redemption. Go on, give it a try.
~mce
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
*Tic tac toe
wrap me up
with a shiny
bow.
I'll feed you your
favorite coleslaw &
promise to come out &
play with you in the snow.
Baby if you
want we can
even dance
slow and just
go with the flow* ~
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
What are the legalities of coleslaw?
Are they the mere sum of the whole where chocolate is presented as a thin skin which spans the surface of a wheat-based figment of elusive imaginations?
As we casually stand under this winter sky, it would be irresponsible of me to maintain silence as we race towards the beginning of a checkered board of savoury perplexity where the science of food may be held in question.
Are you ready to remove your coat?
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Ethereal. That's the squirming quality of that health-hazard house,
where a byproduct of divorce emulsion slept in a bare room on
a bare air mattress, vacuously lying around with the blinds down,
vicious AM radio mumbling through the walls. Homeschooling was more like
becoming housebroken, given that my social network consisted of thirty feral cats.
I suppose some boys require a deadbolt on their room's door.
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
The apathy cloud that crawled the house led to a
(the deadbolt was to lock me out of my room; not in)
prison break; I awkwardly assured myself that I would
never be anything if I was still Pinocchio, and pleaded
to go to liberal-dominated-non-Rush-Limbaugh-approved public schools.
I did; I got into university, I got a grant, I do research,
I got a job, I got a girl, I got a job, I got a girl...
I don't know how to leave my room now that I'm free.
I still hear the crackle of conversative talk radio.
'Cause we'll put a boot in your *** / It's the American way.
Like trembling flotsam I drift into every class,
every party, every... A poem can regurgitate a person who is all
covered in spit and acid and memories. I still know that house
better than I know my own breathing body. I'm just going to keep running;
like a yellowed refrigerator housing second-amendment-upbringing-coleslaw;
like an overheating computer; like I always do; statically, in stasis.
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
Darwin’s Coffee ***
Not enough coffee in the ***
to keep me awake through this daydream,
not calling the kettle black I’m calling us all containers in this melting ***
so I try to keep myself in shape by staying gluten free,
going for the long shot,
like I’m shooting a 3,
all in like a Hotshot,
no hotdogs just coleslaw and greens,
jeez,
what a trip it is this life I lead,
see,
right now I’m in at a hotel on a beach,
in a town called Darwin,
in The Northern Territory,
which is ironic because I’m pondering,
the thought that maybe we’re all aliens,
or at least have 10% extraterrestrial in our genes,
which makes us extraordinarily extra special,
plus it supports my theory that we’re all aliens,
seriously Google Missing Genetic Link,
give it a think,
humans themselves are the Missing Link,
and even Charles Darwin can’t solve the problem,
of not being able to connect our missing link,
and I want to keep writing about it,
but I think instead I’ll go for a swim in the sea,
because I’m tired of writing the water looks inviting,
and not only that but I’m both exited and sleepy,
Not enough coffee in the ***
to keep me awake through this daydream…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
My trembling,
pimpled little
yawp
on its way over
the rooftops,
Was blown by a whim,
bounced off
a gable
and fell into
the backyard
of a preacher
It was spitted,
and brushed
and cooked to a turn
Then served up
with coleslaw
to a chortling
crowd of
the brethren
after a sermon,
of course,
and hymns
and grace
and a chorus
of heartfelt
amens
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
Ghosts walk these streets
The remnants of conflicts
of the past
Blood was spilled for soil
and the spoils
of war are baked beans
hotdogs
hamburgers
and coleslaw
The ghosts smile at the
peace,
passing through the streets
filled with the smell of
food and good times
These ghosts fought hard
and died well
Never let their egos swell
past the pins and medals fastened
to their chests
Never sat in judgement over
the mirth and laughter had
at their expense
Never reveled in boastful pride
or worried whether anyone
remembered why they died
But to be happy in their deaths
that the living could be
thankful
greatful
and speak kind words with their breaths
For judgement about how
someone spent a Sunday sulking
to the extent
of how history would affect
the macaroni and cheese
was for the living to worry about
A lot could be learned from a ghost
if we stilled our beating hearts to listen
if we let those be what they will be
and worry about me
instead of thee
Some light candles and say a prayer
Some light grills with no frills.
Some put their feet up and sleep
happy for the extra day off.
These ghosts smile similarly
upon all of them contentedly
happy to see
that they died a death of honor
so that we could live free.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
Ham and chicken
And butter smoothed out,
Coleslaw.
Pots of tea for the crowd
Gathered
They walked from the church
To the house empty
Of his noise.
Cheese falls to the floor.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
Sunsets of a thousand colors,
jumping into crystal blue waters,
yeah, school's out for summer.
At first, it’s a shock - ignoring the clock,
we’re like prisoners set free
- for a two-month party
- and no responsibilities
Ditch the books ******* - you’re my tribe
- summer’s our vibe - it’s time to slip-n-slide.
Barbeque, corn on the cob, juicy peaches,
lemonade, popsicles, hot sandy beaches,
thunderstorms, short shorts, cotton candy clouds,
let's get a little too silly and a little too loud.
Coleslaw, hotdogs, sharing French fries
Charles smokin' ribs, burgers piled high,
lounging by the pool, with friends dropping by.
Sunglasses, flip-flops, midnight walks, crop tops,
sunrise mornings, throwing frisbees in the park
Playlist DJ’n, the bare feet are tappin', we’re TikTok dancin’,
and, truth or dare, I’m seeing a couple of new romances.
Ferris wheel spinnin', funnel-cake eatin’, roller coaster screamin’,
the kettle-corn’s poppin’ for rom-com streamin’ and reality-TVing.
My mom asked, “Why are you girls all sleeping in one room?”
The answer? “Cause there ain’t no cure for the summertime snooze”
Why doesn’t someone make a sunblock perfume?
Umbrellas, watermelons, 3am dips, Taco Bell trips
and roasting marshmallows on the poolside fire-pit
Beach towels spread like butterfly wings,
hey, our tans are starting to match our bikinis!
Come on, relax, have an ice-cold martini.
We’re not doin’ nothin' - we’re makin’ memories!
Jul 7, 2024
Jul 7, 2024 at 1:28 PM UTC
What shall we do today?
Now the nest is empty
Not as much washing to do
When the kids lived at home there was plenty
Shall we go out for a meal?
A two-for-one meal deal will do
Instead of the usual bargain bucket
Which would feed a slew
Chicken wings and coleslaw and fries
And a large tub of chocolate ice-cream
Drew would eat more than his fair share
His love of fast food was extreme
When we get home from the restaurant
I'll look in the boys bedroom door
And i'll think how bare the carpet looks
With no discarded clothes on the floor
I'll lie in the bed and think
That the house is far too quiet
And think of when the kids were here
Music blaring and running riot
I feel a sense of loss
And feelings of rejection
I'm laid here with my loving spouse
But I feel a disaffection
I think that what we had is gone
I'm starting to wonder whether
Our children living at home
Were the glue that kept us together
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
Atheist
Athena would be disappointed if she did exist
Exalt the Holy one or disappear into the mist
Mistake a man for God and you won't even make the list
Listen to the universe and you will get the gist
Balloon
Bouncing ball of joy popped by a harpoon
Deflating all the hope of ever reaching the moon
Can taste the sadness with a scoop of a teaspoon
Enjoyed the moment while it lasted, what a honeymoon
Chainsaw
The buzz is killed when the auntie brings some coleslaw
The uncle leaves her and he turns into an outlaw
His opinions pack a punch, his stance is southpaw
Dog eat dog world and he always eats his meat raw
Door
As one closes, others open up even more
As you step through you see the golden floor
Rainbows and clovers with leaves that add up to four
The silver lining in the clouds that rain and pour
Eroding the bronze and the copper forever more
Epilepsy
Flashing all your flashy items will lead to jealousy
Evil eye evident anywhere you want to be
Humbleness costs less than impressing humanity
Its not worth the insanity to create a fake reality
Flamboyant
Male ants on fire due to heating up an oxidant
Eye witnesses were present so let's see who was observant
Crime scene's shady though reports say its an accident
Looking for the culprits but people insist they're innocent
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 2:51 PM UTC
Instead of behaving like a civilized Human Being, Hell was what he chose to raise.
My brother had a fit because I used the last of his mayonnaise.
I used the last of it to make some coleslaw.
The nut got so mad that he called the law.
He actually had me arrested for theft.
All because there was no mayonnaise left.
Today, I replaced his mayo but I accidentally got mayo that's light.
He became enraged because of my mistake and was ready to fight.
He cussed me out and called me every name in the book.
Now he's unconscious because I have a strong right hook.
I've had all of his BS that I can stand, I can't stand anymore.
Even though he's bigger than me, I made him eat the floor.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC
The humming of the cast ,
the plop of the bobber
Boyhood daydreams of -
landing a whopper
The cork begins to dance then -
it quickly goes under
The game between angler -
and fish has begun
A flash of the quarry as the
rod bends over double , maybe a bass ,
a perch or a 'channelcat' enticed
to strike from deep down in the -
pond bottom rubble
Give the fish two feet then -
pull back three , heaving left to right in the-
midmorning heat
A final tug at lands end ,
"I've banked a crappie" , proclaims -
a proud young man
A krill filled with every type -
of fish the pond had to offer
Thoughts of bream , coleslaw -
and hush puppies for supper ...
-
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
I.
Munching on a bowl
of leftover coleslaw;
My jaws feel like they're chewing
12 gumballs all at once.
The slaw from my mouth keeps falling
back to the bowl;
The serving spoon's (heaped)
too large for my mouth.
II.
It's too white to be green and
too orange to be purple,
But (for my tummy)
this bowl of coleslaw
is more yummy than bread.
III.
It feels good to feel good,
good to be healthy.
My food tastes of words
and this poem is crunchy.
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 10:02 AM UTC