"croutons" poems
While these groupons cutting coupons I mean and croutons with Grey Poupon with the flight crew on an Islond off Moulin Rouge -- these dudes calling me rude, how I took'em to school. went from second hand shoes to licking silver spoons eating delicious grapes, in luxurious estates, and plush lagoons. Leaving the monkey business to the buffoons. Instead I'm watching CNN news being amused. LeBron making his moves on the tube, setting screens, and running schemes, on the big screen, HD clarity got me taking three, I'm catching charges too. This is the life. I'm just manifesting what they said I couldn't do -- nothing new.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
mmm, palce lizać, albo wsadzić je w dúpe i nadawać sygnał wriggly-wriggly alter: wriggly-pigglety; counter-alt? calling it: the miracle of five croutons, and two pieces of sushi... c'mon, let's go crazy! and take it to the excesses permitted by the original feat! (yes, i mean the fish parts of sushi, there's enough carbohydrates in the croutons, so yes, no rice-bed for the tartars).
ć is the puritan's aversion to cz / chai;
or at least an exfoliation curbor.
i write honey,
honey honey honey,
i write honey,
honey honey honey
p'ooh bear
droned in on it.
when i write,
i write honey,
honey honey O'Milee.
from serving in the US and A
navy, to a beach-buggy
accident.
when i write, i write
honey -
*** e -
Atilla styled liquorice -
lee co reesh - not
liquidated rice -
ghosts of latin almost everywhere;
quadruple that.
convene and converse -
contrary collective.
some say this might as well
be the famous goldberg sardines;
when i write, i write honey,
i write: honey honey honey...
will you be my Duracell bunny?
honey, will you be my
******** par excellance?
i see... no, you won't be.
the museum of Greek sculpture
was vandalised!
guess what they took,
the ****** fiendish crooks!
with a wet splash of colour
comes the cold marble artifice -
a bit like the cool-mouth
refrigerator of a woman during
felatio... still don't know
how she gets that gob down
below room temperature.
(heresy input, never start a
sentence with an) and
there you have it,
writing, catering for
abstractionism,
just after he said: they're on a diet.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC
I knew all day that you didn’t want me.
The sirens rang, red flag tear ducts, and I
was just waiting for the bomb to drop.
I felt it, in my gut as they say,
like a paperweight, and choked
on all the tears before I even knew
they were coming. Here’s the thing—
you asked me. The rest spoke for itself.
The dress, the earrings, the phone call, the couch,
your gym shorts, glasses, and answering machine.
But we went to dinner, and you called me beautiful.
You threw croutons over the table, made me laugh,
let me hold your hand while they brought my iced tea.
I even found myself picturing you next to me.
I spread my palms, open, but I didn’t ask for a thing.
Yet, you kept defending yourself, explaining everything,
and I just wanted you to pay for the two of us to eat.
Your face is all that I see. Then why, why do I find myself
time after time again in these situations
where I keep plugging myself into equations
that obviously aren’t meant to be? You’re so sweet.
But if you searched through the crowd,
I’m not sure you’d want to find me.
I should have left you on the couch. Honestly,
I knew all day that you didn’t want me.
But I kissed you a million little times,
let your tongue explore my silent confessions,
willed you to find yourself
through the spaces of my mouth.
I should have just left you on the couch.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
You give me simple pleasure,
As I bite into your inner layer.
I love you in the morning
In between a bagel,
Sometimes with bacon.
In the afternoon,
By a salad’s side you sit,
With my favorite edibles-
Arugula, red peppers, fresh peas,
Black and green olives,
Topped with chicken, cheese,
Sesame vinaigrette, and,
A few croutons for crunch.
You are an Egg, but so much more.
The texture and depth of your yolk,
Sublime and sumptuous;
Your outside solid, yet undefined;
Balancing textures with what’s inside.
Egg,
You are truly
Divine.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC
The graduation party
with fried aubergine, croutons and rye whisky
has raised the hairs of the alumni.
Kismets afoot about forming a band,
named after actress Alice White,
intuitive bluesy Psychedelicia.
Devonport's dappling on bass
and Schemtar's already on drums.
The devils in the details with the lead singer,
for the want of a lead guitarist
they are gyved.
But if they practice like clockwork
the turnaround will resonant .
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Oh waiter my dear fellow
There's a beetle in my soup
He's swimming around the croutons
In a never ending loop
Oh waiter tarry hither
There's a slug inside my pie
He's guzzling the gravy up
And the pastry's gone all dry
Oh waiter while your present
There's a mouse under the chips
She's built a fence of runner beans
To guard them from the dips
Oh waiter please attend to me
There's foxes in my drink
They clambered in a while ago
And plain refuse to sink
Oh waiter hurry back to me
There's a walrus in my cake
He bellows if I dare approach
And makes the jelly shake
Oh waiter fetch a napkin
There's a horse...
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
My family What's app group
Is homemade soup.
It keeps me calm,
Soothes me like a balm,
Reduces tension of the day,
Appeases my appetite for what is happening in some way.
Family relationship is savoury broth,
Holds a strong bond and growth.
Photos and videos,
Not to forget audios,
Are seasonings which enhance the taste,
Just some, only the best.
Gossips,jokes and sayings need time to simmer,
To reach full flavour.
Family moans and groans,
Are birthdays, death,sickness and new borns,
Raining with condolences and wishes,
Tangy, no preservatives.
Family members are garnish,
Quite a relish,
With active members as crusty croutons,
That promote sociability and traditions.
Passive members are fresh herbs,
Rarely a comment,only few words,
But,are there to bring out the lovely aroma.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Flashing numbers; this isn't a binary
sequence but the universe has got me
wondering. 01001011010101011
combinations of 2 create infinitesimally
complicated creatures, craters, croutons,
castrations, cancers, colons, concretes,
convulsions, corn-cobs. 'Where is my
mind' by the Pixies; wish I'd never heard
it before. No simile metaphor for what's
next, swooping ultraviolent. Almost like
skin being ripped off so I'm nothing but
bone and muscle. 'With your feet in the
air and your head on the ground,' the
dam snaps and floods my Amsterdam
cheeks like New Orleans; scrambling for
roof I drown. Scrambling for roof I drown.
'Try to trick and spin it, yeah,' polka-dots
and floaters; bacteria in my eye dives into
the ocean and makes me wonder which
flew bottom and rounded-dust to eat *****
on sea-floor. 'Your head will collapse, but
there's nothing in it, and you'll ask yourself,'
mashing cellphone numbers now; mashing
cellphone needed now dad pick up please pick
up worlds end pick up mom pick up I need
to know I'm real I need to know there's truth,
'where is my mind? Where is my mind? Whee
erre is my mind?' the world fades into itself and
what crosses mind is death but no, why? No,
need. Dad picks up to my heaving sobs. Rational,
collected. Collect call. World freezes.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
Neutrons, protons, croutons, electrons. Electronic. Electric. Electricity.
Creativity?
Negativity.
An electronic .
A psychotic electronic.
I don't want my body to become a piece of metal.
It doesn't make me feel settle.
I don't want wires to control my movement.
I don't want a computer as a brain.
If it rains outside, I would completely malfunction.
I am a human, with human thoughts an concerns.
I am a human with human feelings and a human body.
I have human body organs as well.
I guess it is interesting that humans are evolving.
But I also find it to be a mess.
What will happen when my human body parts and organs become replaced with computers and electronics that are controlled by the high class society and the government?
We will become robots;
An army for the government.
We will be forced to do however they please.
What about us?
Should we fuss?
Or should we not worry about the fact that we wont have the right to speak up any more?
We wont have feelings, thoughts and concerns.
We can't even control our own movement.
We can't even control our own choices.
It is all decided by them.
We don't have the right to know when something wrong is in sight.
And we can't say anything about it.
Say goodbye to human rights!
Say goodbye to freedom of speech!
Say goodbye to being human at all!
They don't care,
they don't want to feel powerless.
So they take away everything that is important to us.
And you think that technology developing is cool
I would like to remain human.
I don't want to be part of the Electronica!
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
You baffle me, like a 1st grader trying to learn geometry. You make me shake like the paintings on a wall during an earthquake i wish i could throw all my feelings in a basket like baby Jesus was thrown into a lake. Your impossible to decipher one minute your clearer than water and the other your nothing but martyr, you inflict pain upon me your worse than eating a salad without the croutons so now i dance this ballad alone at my canton like a person who's home is an asylum
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 8:13 AM UTC
Welcome to my Scary Halloween Spooky Party Night -Theme for a night is a creepy illusion light for a reflection blurred of an eerie life. its Demon the spiritual faces to ready for the Party night, Which is Making out to be the Bestest crooked Halloween spooky might.
I bet this party will be a great spooky late at night"& Cracked at all time..
Date: 31st Oct at 11pm
Venue: Hallow Town of Stuffy street
Costume : Creepy Hat with a Long Spooky Coat dual colors — usually red and black..
Special Spooky Party Menu...
....Starter....
Blood Soup with Cheese Croutons
&
Fried Nail Parcels...
..... Main courses.....
Twisted leg With crispy Shoulder...
&
Roasted Pepper teeth with Blood drink...
King Nose Sizzler with Sticky Ears..
......Desserts .....
Pudding Skin Custard Creme
Hope u have enjoyed my Invitation card.. so plz dare to come &enjoy; the scary night to remain till the next time..
-Chirayu
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 6:17 AM UTC
A cherry pie, homemade by my wife. An apple pie, cut, opened, sliced.
An oven with a turkey, croutons sprinkled on western fresh lettuce, oven mitts, salad dressing, the works.
Lemon lime juice- squirted on the meat.
After meal deserts. Garlic bread, the tastes, butter smothered, my wife's lips covered, in icing from handmade cakes.
A little chill outside, the old fireplace burning. Wood hot the fire heated. Love making at midnight. Passion yearning.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
Flailing arms in minestrone soup,
grasping ropes in gloopy slop.
Slippery snakes in slippy hands;
bobbing bereft in beefy broth.
Croutons swirl - a death knell eddy
clumping in a bread bricked tomb.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
Let’s imagine for a minute
That life is a loaf of bread:
Soft, warm, and inviting
When you first come out of the oven
In time, however
It gets a little stale
Not so fluffy as it was in the beginning
It gets a little rough around the edges
It can get a little blue here and there
And in time, if you let it sit too long
Those little parasites will grow
Until there is nothing good left
But let’s not be too rash
Don’t toss it in the trash
No, not just yet
There’s something you can do, so don’t you fret
You have a chance
To make your loaf
Something amazing
What can your loaf bring?
Break it down
Into tiny little bits
Toss away your blues
But keep the misfits
Everything that is good
Is what makes it yours
The crust, the heal,
The unique little pores
Spread it all out
Within your pan
Draw it out
As long as you can
Don’t forget
To add some spice
Make it taste
The way you like
Pop it in the oven
And let them bask
Make them warm and toasty
Make them last
What was once a dull mass
Is now a bunch
Of quirky little bits
With lots of crunch
Why waste away
As a stale loaf of bread
When you could be croutons
Everybody likes croutons
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Oily air, greasy skin,
hot stove tops, and
delicately arranged lemons.
Potato pans and crushed croutons.
Take orders and
watch the clock.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
Let me be
The soup,
That dampens
Your croutons.
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 3:24 AM UTC
Misrelating Tale
Gotta prepare for war, like I’m Daniel-son.
Train every day with that wax-off, wax on.
Mister Miyagi flow, that hits like a Jeff Hardy Swanton Bomb.
What has the world become?
We unleashed the sword,
So, what was done can’t be undone.
But what if this narrative could be un -spun ?
Would we right wrongs?
If we rebuilt foundations,
Would our nation remain strong?
To return a triumphant king like Aragon,
Or be stabbed in the gut like qui-gon?
But as def squad says we’ll continue on till the break of dawn.
For this is the way of the mandolorian.
Some days one gotta switch sides,
From the autobots to deceptocons.
Fighting foodons, blasting brains like I’m jimmy neutron.
A Lightning nuisance, that’ll static shock the electrons.
That may interrupt ones...
Constant flow of info from dendrites to axons.
After the battle is won, grab some schezwan.
Project soul of foul human individual cretans.
Not everyone can be as polite, as the bear named Paddington.
Gotta call the ghostbusters to extract some Thetans.
Rest In Peace to Egon.
So...
When **** hit the fan, gotta know how to swim in the deep end.
Treating each failure like it was a lesson.
Everyday I battle against anxiety and depression.
Let’s just say I know what’s it’s like to feel less than.
Got my heart crushed like some croutons.
And have had to attack on my inner Titans.
And just when you think I’m defeated,
I go super saiyan.
Schooling it like I’m Piccolo and it’s Gohan.
Let’s go son!
I Will never lose my head like a dullahan.
For I ain’t got not time for 99 problems.
Gotta open the third eye to see past illusions.
Got to change the qualities of the composition.
Keeping stressors relatively small no matter the opposition.
Gotta emphasize the light like you painting an impression.
On everything and everyone that may come along.
A perspective can turn curses to blessings.
Can take one’s trauma and use it as a weapon.
To change the cycle of ones disposition.
But that being said,
One can’t predict everything like the Simpsons.
For the world’s more controversial,
Than the ending of the Jefferson’s.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 12:27 AM UTC
On warm nights like this, streetlights
dot the sidewalks thick like map markers.
The screeching of tires mixes with applause coming
from the church. The breeze pushes my hair like a broom
in the deli I used to work at. Croutons and capicola
don't taste as good forgotten beneath the stove.
A bike light dances beneath the brush and teenagers
hold hands like chain-link.
Doors on either side of me catch carpets and don't close
like textbooks during finals week.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
The wraith wrote right
Inside the sight of a sigh
***
Love dove like a dove
Then flew full of flu
***
Doubt is the apple
And love is the worm
***
If you are ready for happiness
You are already lost
***
I did my worst
So I would know my worst
***
From a martyr to a victim
A fall marks the distance
***
Everyone’s addicted to their illness
Because the medicine tastes worse
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
Laugh and release those endorphins
(your minds a chemical soup)
the very essence of you
waiting to be slurped
(and drip down my chin)
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC