Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
jake aller Dec 2019
Snarling Cup of Coffee    

I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day
as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room

Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a ******* snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee

I mean, - we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, ******, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ***, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, ****** vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists,

Zoroastrians, drinking my god ****** coffee in Hell;

growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ***, kick my ******* *** to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by exVietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ***, illegal in every state, imported from all over the ******* world,

insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, *******, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced ****** corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved,

paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, *******, silly, ****, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of ***, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the ****** revolution,

Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century,

the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that ****** and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his *** to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical,

Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee   
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals

I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair

Lying through their perfect blazing white teeth
about the great success the government is having
Following the great leader's latest pronouncements

I want to scream
and shoot the TV
and run out side

Stop the world!
I want to get
off this ******* crazy planet"

The earth does not care a whit
about my attitude problem

It merely shrugs
and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run

the universe whispers
in my ear
time to drink more coffee
for an attitude adjustment

And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe

Coffee Revolutions

coffee cup
Coffee led to the American Revolution<span
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against
the aristocratic English tea

Coffee started the London Stock Market
And started the gossip mills running
Every great invention
Was fed by coffee's sweet brew
sweet allure

All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved
to coffee's magic

I sing my praises
Of the great
glorious coffee lady

Long may she continue
To be my sweet companion

Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart
on fire

Ode to Coffee

Mistress of sacred love
Sacred lady of desire

You start my day
Setting my heart on fire
With your dark delicious brew 

And throughout the day
Whenever the mean old blues come by
You chase them away

With your bittersweet ambrosial brew
Every time I inhale your witch's brew

I am filled with power, light and love
And everything is al right Jack
If only for a few fleeting minutes

I love you oh coffee goddess
In all your magical forms

In the dark coffee of the dawning day
In the sizzling coffee in the mid morning break
In the afternoon siesta break
And in the post dinner desert drink

I love you my coffee mistress
You are my refuge
From this horrid world

And you are my secret lover
Never disappoint me, ever
I've never had a bad cup
Of that I can be sure

Even the dismal coffee
Served at Denny's at 3 am
Is still sweet loving coffee

Even the farmer brother's diner coffee
Excites me and gets me going
Asking for another cup of divine delight

Coffee always is there
It is always on and piping hot
With hidden dark secrets
Swirling in its liquid essence

Coffee is my last vice
My only legal vice left

Coffee does not cheat on me
It is always faithful, always true
It does not turn on its friends

And all it asks in return
Is that you come back
Cup after cup after cup

A good cup of coffee
Is a little bit of heaven
In a cup of dark liquid hell

Coffee is like a drug
But a good drug that does what is should
And never complains

It does not get grouchy
It does not hurt you

It does not make you crazy
But allows the muse to come out
And play with it

Coffee led to the American Revolution
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against the aristocratic English tea

Coffee started the London Stock market
And started the gossips mills running

Every great invention
Was fed by coffee's sweet brew
sweet allure

All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved to coffee's magic

I sing my praises
Of the great glorious coffee lady

Long may she continue
To be my sweat companion

Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart on fire

I love thee
Mistress coffee
And sometimes I think
You love me too

No More Coffee Blues

I love coffee
Always have

And coffee has loved me back
But lately I have soured on her
Soured on the whole coffee scene

On the harshness
of the morning brew
And the promises it makes

As I sip of its nectar
Drawn into its lair

Drinking drop by drop
As the caffeine takes over

Rewriting my every nerve
Turning me into a slave
For its perverted pleasure

Yes I love coffee
But I am afraid

Coffee is a harsh mistress
Demanding so much of me

Promising the sun
And delivering the moon

As I drink her swill
Deepening under her influence

I have the coffee blues
Can’t live without her
Can’t live with her

I try
But tea does not cut it
Not really

***** does not do it
At least not in the morning

Yoga is not enough of a buzz
Nor is the runner’s high

And I am afraid deadly afraid of *******
And speed and drugs and energy drinks

And so I remain a slave to coffee
My only legal drug

As I sip another
and fall under
her seductive spread

Once more failing my resolve
To skip coffee for that day
That morning that moment

I shall never be free of her spell
Ever and she knows it
As she beckons me
Every morning with her intoxicating smell

And I come to her
and drink her brew

And become her slave
again and again

Coffee Ya Du

must drink coffee
have every day
the morning dawns
drinking my coffee as I yawn

Morning cup of coffee 

every morning
I drink my coffee
as I contemplate 
the dawning day

watching the news anchors
blather on and on
drinking my coffee
thinking of life

and my coffee
consumes me
overwhelms me
and at time controls me

after all coffee is a drug
and I am her slave
from time to time

Drinking Coffee in the Morning

in the morning
dangerous mood
felling deranged
watching the news

trigger warning
you are ******* dude
end of the world
the end times come

I drink coffee
in the morning

Coffee *** Killed

His wife has banned my use
by my owner
says he makes too much
of a mess when he uses me

it is not his fault
I want to say
but being a coffee ***
can not speak

and so I am abandoned
thrown out into the trash

and feel very sad
for my owner

who was my friend
he liked me

he keep me going
and I did my job

providing him
with fresh coffee

doing my coffee *** duty
and now it is over

Drinking My Coffee

drinking coffee

drinking my coffee
early in the cool morning
thinking life is fine

everything will be okay
after I drink my coffee

morning coffee

morning coffee

dawning sun 

coffee MGur Poem


I pray to the coffee gods
every cup of coffee
is like a sacrament to me

I pray as I drink my coffee
that it will fill me
with wisdom

and find peace
with my coffee

as I drink
my devotion

Hot coffee

cup of coffee

take coffee with you
Hot hot coffee, makes my day -

Must drink My daily coffee, as the morning dawns - 

With out my morning coffee

in me,  I feel nothing at all -

Electrified Hot Coffee

coffee is the drug of choice
nothing else will do it
as I drink coffee
Hot Coffee

Hot Coffee and Cake

coffee is the drug of choice
electrified circuits
as I drink coffee
coffee and cake

Coffee Patina

hot coffee
hot Hellish Heaven
Essence of coffee
the rest of the coffee poems can be found at
a cup of coffee
makes difference on
how you manage to make it
put your love into the cup of coffee
it makes it sweet
put a bit of hate and it becomes sour
every cup of coffee defines you and your personality
the way i make my coffee maybe different for you
but the coffee beans, the the milk, the way i make is same as you
but the chances of making the same coffee as i make is a zero because
every style, every cup makes a difference
every smell of the coffee,the style,the amount you put
everything is different
but you never realize the fact that
the cup of coffee
the same cup of coffee
whether you add something or remove
it remains the same cup of coffee
you never know how hard it is to make a cup of coffee
and yet you bark about it being bad
because you never seem to understand their people's hardwork
unless you feel it
even if its a cup of coffee
you enjoy it with a passionate love and care
because it's the same cup of coffee
that has been made by a diligent hardworker
putting his love and  affection to his work
the very same coffee beans
that has been farmed by a diligent hardworking farmer
the very same milk that has been brought to you by hardworking  milkman
you never cease to understand
how hard it is to make a cup of coffee with a smiley on it
because you never tried that
but but but you will still bark about it
even if its your fault
even if you know that
you should've hold the cup firmness
you understand everything once,
you throw your selfishness and
wait to admire the hard work ,the love,affection,the care that one cup of coffee brings you
and you realize that
a cup of coffee is not a cup of coffee
it's a world on how you decide to see it
Ann M Johnson Aug 2015
It is often said that the cup can be viewed as half full or half empty
The fact is we should be able to agree on is
    We all have a cup that can be filled
        If we All tried to build another person up
          Fill there cup
            Instead of putting others down
      which can drain ones own cup along with the other persons cup
If you meet another person who appears mean or insensitive or rude
perhaps their cup has been drained so much
They don't know how to fill it up again and are badly in need of having their cup refilled
A small compliment a little kindness, a smile could help fill up the cup again
A cup of friendship can go a long way and help  another person have a better day
The world is full of hurting people needing to have their cup refilled
Seeing things from someone else's perspective is a good start
Is the glass half empty or half full, you can decide?
Have  you raised your glass and tried to share a Cup of friendship
and filled another's cup today?
If not the present is a good time to start
If we all filled up the cup instead of emptying it
We would have a better world
Fill up the cup today
Isaac Aug 2018
Impatiently sitting on the bench ahead
Cup stares at me as if wanting to be fed
So I grab Cup and find a boiling kettle
Fill Cup with water hoping it will settle
But Cup begins to steam and nag
So I search the cupboard for a tea bag
Choosing one from the others, I quickly drop it in
The water changing colours, makes me throw it in the bin
I think the dark stuff is something bad
And Cup seems to look pretty sad
So I try to swallow the black stuff away
But my method seems to make Cup dismay
Before I begin, something hot hurts my lip
I didn’t realise that Cup could nip
So I hurry towards the kitchen sink
Tip Cup upside down, before I can think
Cup throws up, being upside down
I forgot Cup got sick when moved around
So I put Cup back where he was
I can see that Cup feels better because
Cup is no longer steaming or spewing any more
Come to think of it, I don’t know why I touched Cup at all!
Written 8 August 2018
Randy Ray Price Jul 2016
Red Cup Red Cup, colorless backdrop
Just filled with water as its poured with the last drop.
Red Cup, Red Cup all packed with water
But the Red cup gets picked up and cracks at the bottom.
Red Cup, Red Cup, but black and white all around
The man holds it up and a drop falls to the ground.
That drop that drop, like a slow motion  flood
Is thrown to the ground with an ominous thud.
Red cup, Red Cup, now past its peak fullness
As the man sheds a tear for his entire life’s dullness.
I am a poor man
sitting on the corner of
Your Conscious
and Your Reality.
All day everyday
I sit in that spot and
beg for change.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to water my feeble hope, thorny rose
rooted in concrete hatred.
Roots, like my fingers,
too feeble to hold anything
but this patch of dirt to remind
me, I exist.
ALMS! ALMS! ALMS for the poor of heart!
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to wash away the muck kicked in my face.
A cup of change
to cleanse the wounds made
by verbal bullets shot out of nine millimeter mouths
wielded carelessly by boys society has deemed as men.
I sit in this spot and fester,
like a dream deferred.
My skin, cracked and brittle
like aged parchment, hangs over my frame
like sheets over antiqued furniture.
I sit in this spot with
arms open wide, heart open wide, eyes open wide
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to strip the lies and propaganda
from the decrepit facades of your ideas,
storefront workshops left from the age of enlightenment.
My body yearns for nourishment
but I can't afford your lies.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
Now I'm not asking for a Jesus on Galilee moment,
just a cup of change to feed what's left of my soul.
But who am I to ask for anything?
I am just the poor man
sitting on the corner of
Your Conscious
and Your Reality.
All day everyday
I sit in that spot and
beg for change.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
Charlie Chirico Feb 2013
“It’s three in the morning. Are you drunk?” Larry asked me. “No, I just had to talk to someone and couldn’t think of anyone else,” I replied with desperation. “Can’t this wait until the morning, dude?” Larry asked, “I have to get up in six hours for work.” He sounded angry, but mostly tired so I pressed on. “No, this can’t wait, seriously. I’m sorry, but this is urgent.”

“Okay, what’s wrong that you had to wake me up?” Larry asked, and I was ready to talk. I was ready to talk until I couldn’t utter another word. I was distraught and scared. Larry was my best friend, and I knew he’d listen. I wasn’t sure if he could give me the right advice, but I knew he’d listen.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Try the beginning. Come on, man. It’s too late for this.”

“Alright, but have a little bit of patience.”

“Yeah, just start talking before I hang up.”

“Okay, I ****** up,” I replied and paused for a response, but Larry didn’t respond so I pressed on.

“I got off work at ten and had to close the store. My manager was in a tight spot and left me with the keys,” I said, took a breath, and continued,”I was kind of ******* when he asked me to do it, but he said he had no other choice. He even offered to give me an extra day off with pay.”

“So what’s the problem?” Larry asked.

“The problem is what I did before I left.”

“And that is?”

“Well, I was getting the store all shut up. I let most of the employees go, and I left one cashier with me so I didn’t have to run around like a maniac. There weren’t any problems, so I locked up and got ready to count down the last till so I could get the hell out of there.”

“Can you speed this up, man? I’m falling asleep,” Larry said impatiently.

“Sorry, so I count down the last till and leave it by the register. I let the last cashier go for the night and locked the door. I go back to the register and grab the till so I could put it in the office and start the deposit. My manager left me instructions for the closing procedures and the combo to the safe. I counted everything and wrapped the deposit so it could be taken to the bank in the morning. I followed the instructions perfectly.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I was having trouble finishing my story, and even though I paused I knew Larry wouldn’t hang up. He wasn’t the kind of guy that would let a story go unfinished. The only problem was that I didn’t know how to get to the next part of the story. I was like a comedian without a punchline. It was hard enough to make the phone call to Larry, let alone get this far into the story. But I did wake him up, so the least I could do was finish my story.

“Are you there?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just having trouble explaining this.”

“Take a breath. Just breathe and try to start again,” Larry said with a comforting tone.

“I left with it,” I said. I was being vague on purpose so Larry would ask me what I meant instead of me telling him. And that’s exactly what he did. “You left with what?” He said sounding confused.

“I left with the deposit and everything else in the safe,” I said in a hurried tone.

“You did what?” Larry said sounding confused as if he heard me wrong.

“I left with everything. I took all the money and locked up.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I robbed my store and left. It was an impulse. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I ****** up.”

“I hope you’re joking,” Larry said.

“I’m not joking. I just up and left with everything,” I said.

“What the **** were you thinking? How much did you take?”

“I wasn’t thinking, man. I took everything, which was a little over ten grand.”

“This isn’t good. What the ****, dude. This is bad, really really bad.”

“I know, but I don’t know what to do. That’s why I called you,” I said, sounding more desperate than when Larry had first picked up the phone.

“What do you want me to say? You just called me at three in the morning to tell me you robbed your store for a **** load of money. This is beyond a **** up, man. Where are you?”

“I’m out front of your place.”

“What? How long have you been here?” Larry asked. He sounded like he was shocked to hear me say that, but deep down I knew he understood. I didn’t know what else to do, and he was the only person I could turn to. He might not of agreed with what I did, but he would help me through anything. Whether that be good or bad; he would be there for support.

“I’ve been here since I called you. I didn’t know what to do. I’m freaking out. Like beyond freaking out. I’m so ******, man. I am absolutely ******.”

“Alright, first off get the hell inside. I’m unlocking the door now,” Larry said and hung up. I closed my phone and shut the engine to my car. I still sat in my car with my head on the steering wheel. I was emotionally drained and knew the night wasn’t over. My night was only going to get worse, and facing Larry was going to drain me. Larry knew how to give that look of disappointment only a parent could give. He wouldn’t belittle me, but the look in his eyes would be enough to make me feel small. It was already past the point of no return with Larry. I had to face him now, and he was waiting for me. I lifted my head up and rubbed my eyes. The light on his front porch was on when I lifted my head. So I got out of my car, locked it, and made my way up to his house. The door was open a crack and I stepped inside and locked it behind me. Larry’s foyer led to the kitchen, and the light was on. He was in the kitchen waiting for me.

“Is that you?” Larry yelled from the kitchen.


“In the kitchen. I just put on a *** of coffee.”

The ten second walk to the kitchen felt infinite. My legs were shaky, along with the rest of my body. I was more nervous about seeing Larry than I was about the consequences that were to follow my recklessness. I turned the corner into the kitchen to find Larry sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the coffee ***.

“Hey,” I said, being at a loss for words.

“Sit down. The coffee is almost done.”

“Okay, I think I might need a cup.”

“You and me both, bud.”

Larry and I both stared at the coffee ***. He was waiting for the coffee to finish. I was hypnotized by the drip. In a weird way it was calming and gave me time to think. I’m not sure if Larry ever took the time to glance at me, as I was only fixated on the drip. I didn’t want it to end for a few reasons. Not only was it calming, but it also prolonged the inevitable: Our conversation.

“What do you want?” Larry asked.


“What do you want in your coffee?”

“Oh, just a little cream and a little sugar.”

Larry fixed two cups of coffee and placed a cup in front of me. He took his seat and sipped his coffee. He didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to speak. Before I could he cleared his throat.

“What the **** were you thinking?” He asked, as only a friend could when you make a mistake.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, you said that, but what could possibly make you do something like that. Really, what the **** were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I just did it, and it didn’t cross my mind until I left and set the alarm. At that time I couldn’t do anything. I already took the money and left. I couldn’t go back in the store without sounding the alarm.”

“You set the alarm. You couldn’t just go back in and shut it off?” Larry pressed.

“No, I couldn’t. There are two different codes for closing and opening. I told you it was last minute, and my manager only gave me the code to close up.” I said in all honesty.

“You couldn’t of just put the money back and let the alarm go off? I’m sure they wouldn’t of been ****** about the alarm going off. It wasn’t your responsibility in the first place to be closing the store.” Larry said, making a valid point.

“I didn’t think about that, and I told you I was freaking. I thought I was already ****** so I left. I just got in my car and got out of there. I didn’t know where to go so I drove around for a few hours, and I didn’t want to go home so I called you.”

“Yeah, well thanks for that,” Larry said sarcastically.

“I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, really I am.”

“No you’re not. If you were sorry you would of turned yourself in.”

“Are you serious? The last place I want to be is in jail.”

“Well you should of thought about that before you committed grand larceny.”

“What do I do then? What can I do?” I asked

“For right now just enjoy your coffee. Go pour another cup and relax. I’m going to call my work and call out. There is no way I’m going to make it in after all of this ******* you brought me.”

“I’m sorry, Larry. Really, I am truly sorry.”

“Just relax, there’s nothing you can do now.” Larry said. He got up and left the room. I also got up and poured another cup of coffee. He was right, I needed to relax and just stay calm. There was nothing else I could do, and freaking out was not going to help. I sat back down, took a sip of my coffee, and rested my head in my hands. It was the most at ease I’ve been the whole night. This is why I turned to Larry. He knew how to calm me down and was my only true friend. He always had my best interest at hand, and I loved him for that.

Ten minutes later Larry returned and sat back down. He took a sip of his coffee and spit it back in the cup. “I hate cold coffee,” Larry said and got up to pour another cup. “What are you thinking about?” He asked. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond. Although I was calmer my mind was still racing. It felt like my head was going to explode. Thankfully it didn’t, but it sure felt like it.

“What do you think you’re going to do? Larry asked

“I’m not sure yet. I think I might just take off. What else can I do? I can’t go to jail.” I replied through my strained throat. Larry didn’t say anything. His back was faced to me as he poured another cup of coffee. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He asked.

“I can’t go to jail.”

“Okay, so then what? You’re just going to flee? Just get up and go?”

“Yeah, that is the only thing that seems plausible right now.”

“You don’t expect me to go with you, do you?”

“No, not at all. This is my mess.”

“You’re **** right it is,” Larry said sounding angry for the first time.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing to me. You have no reason to say sorry to me.”

“You’re right. I think I should just go,” I said

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t wait around. I have to do something. And I should leave before anyone gets to the store to see the safe empty. What time is it?”

“It’s quarter after six.”

“Okay, the store opens in almost two hours. I should get going soon if I’m going to be out of the state before someone gets there.”

“Okay, if that’s what you think you got to do. Have another cup and calm down before you leave.” Larry suggested.

“Okay,” I said, accepting his offer.

I got up and walked to the coffee *** to make my last cup of coffee before I left. I knew I had to get going, but I wanted to make this last cup of coffee last. This would be the last time I would see Larry. And after all, he was my best friend. I would have many regrets when I was gone, so I tried to make this last encounter last as long as I could.

As I was pouring my last cup Larry’s doorbell rang. I looked back in a hurry and Larry put his hand on my shoulder. “Relax, it’s my neighbor. He comes over early on Tuesdays. He’s an older guy that comes over for coffee. He’s lonely and his wife passed recently. It’s the least I can do.” Larry said, and made his way to his front door. I sat back down and put my head in my hands again. The two cups of coffee I drank had me jittery. I sat and waited for Larry to return with his neighbor. When he came back in I would leave and be on my way. I had no choice, and I had to be leaving as soon as possible anyway. I didn’t need to intrude while he had company. I just rested my head, and I heard footsteps. Larry was on his way back in the kitchen, and I’d be on my way out.

A hand rested on my shoulder. I still kept my head in my hands.

“Mr. Kofta?”

I looked up and nearly fell off my chair.

“I’m Officer Shandie, and I’m going to need you to come with us.”

There were three police officers in Larry’s kitchen, and Larry was standing right beside them. He looked at me in disappointment, like only a parent can look at their child. Officer Shandie pulled me up and put my hands behind my back. He cuffed me and led me to the front of the house. All of the police officers followed, along with Larry. I was being put into the back of the police cruiser when Larry stopped them and spoke up.

“I can’t keep bailing you out. You’re not running from this mistake.”

Larry stepped aside as I was put in the back of the car. The door was shut, and my fate was sealed. Officer Shandie got in the cruiser and backed out of Larry’s driveway.

The only similarity Larry and I had that night was when I leaving to be taken to the police station. We both had our heads down.
Dreams of entertainment
Full of amazement and surprises
Take a back seat Beauty and the Beast
We are a standalone being our feast
The music being for us both
Together we took an oath
A Teapot and cup and saucers are the ones who know
We will carry the show
Just follow the flow
Song and dance and perhaps a sketch
You the audience will have to catch
Creating the right effect
We don’t want the audience to reject
We will not be mean only lean
You won’t see much of a pour
Only our total performing galore
Our story our very own and it will be full blown
Teapot became a theory
Cup and Saucers a mystery
We were always sitting on a shelf or convent
Barely used or not used at all
We were considered a prop
I always had to accept like it or not
It was simply “NOT”
Disney thought they had it right
We took it as a plight
We were determined to show our talent
We refused to be silent
When the curtain rose and the spotlight was on
First the teapot went through the audience and asked, “Do you want some tea?”
The audience didn’t know exactly in how to respond other than laugh
The music started and that’s entertainment
Then the cup and saucers with their enchanting voices stating we are Cup and Saucers best
You are our guest
But we have only one request, “Don’t expect us to serve”
We are entertainment and that is what you deserve
Let’s go back into Teapot and cup and saucers time
On the table a teapot and cup and saucers that was always there
Alone with barely a touch
That doesn’t sound much
The table of beauty being a setting and we were decorative
Being objective
There was a party and the Teapot and Cup and Saucers were the highlight
Ready to fulfill
At will
There was some pour and detail
But without fail
Beautiful friendship
Pleasure to be your acquaintance
Music still playing enchanted
The stage is now full of dancers
Flashing lights
Teapot and Cup and Saucers dancing in delight
We shall dance
Suddenly the beast appeared being angry and upset
The duo of Teapot and cup and saucers had an effect
The question came up from the beast in why he wasn’t invited?
The response, Teapots and cup and saucers are the entertainers and you are only the prop when needed
It was on with the show
We put the beast finally in the know
The finale being an encore, the teapot and cup and saucers together a team
The audience stood up and applauded and the curtain came down
It was a teapot and cup and saucers with a pouring spirit
You have to give them merit
That’s entertainment the way it was meant to be
Hewasminemoon Jul 2014
It was almost February and winter still hadn’t hit. I was beginning to
think that it wouldn’t arrive, and that spring was here. One evening as I was walking down the streets of the city I looked up to see a single snowflake falling down to meet my face. It was tiny and looked lonely, but a few moments later, it was followed by several more snowflakes. Sooner than later, the ground was covered in a white sheet of snow. and I was stuffing my hands in my coat pockets and pulling my hood on to brace myself against the bone-chilling wind. I made my way into a small coffee shop that was still open and was greeted by a short stocky man in his mid thirties with a dark, curly mustache and sleeves of faded tattoos.
“Hello” he said, his voice sounding deep and smooth. I pulled out my headphones that were burning in my ears, pressed pause on my phone and shoved them carelessly in my messenger bag.
“Hello”, I replied back with a slight smile, pulling my hands out of my
pockets and making my way to the counter.
The shop was small, but it had a staircase leading upstairs with more room for seating. The man who stood behind the counter continued to unpack small plastic covered packages, putting them away in cupboards and freezers. I pulled out my wallet from my bag and plopped it on the counter, feebly attempting to pull out my card with my hands shaking violently from the cold.
“What a night”, the man said, his eyes still focused on his duties.
“Hmm.” I said, nodding. “Can I get a 12oz mocha, please?” The man looked up from his package, and giggled coyly.
“Sure you can, sweetheart." He put the package that he was holding down below him, and began making the drink I had just ordered. My credit card held tightly in my hand, still shaking. There was awkward silence between us and I got the feeling the man understood I didn’t feel like talking. He finished my order, filling a small, white ceramic mug, and pushed it across the counter towards me.
“Anything else?”
I shook my head, implying no and handed him the cold card. He swiped it and handed it back to me, along with a receipt and a pen to sign. I signed the receipt, grabbed my coffee and headed up the stairs to my right. Upstairs, there was a large room with a dining room looking table and several chairs, and to the left, and a small hole in the wall with several cushions. I smiled at the welcoming spot, and took a seat. Pulling a small table up next to me, I set my coffee down, and rested my bag on the floor below me. The upstairs was completely empty. In fact; the entire shop was empty besides the man working downstairs. I took a deep breath in and let my head rest on some of the cushions behind me. Closing my eyes, I let out my breath and felt the warmth and the vast history of the shop run envelop me. I grabbed at the cup beside me and sipped at my coffee. It was still too hot to drink comfortably, so I set it down. Out of my bag, I pulled out my phone with the headphones still attached and scrunched into a tight tangled ball.
Untangling them, I placed each bud in my ear, and pressed play, continuing the song I had stopped when I had entered the coffee shop. I felt my eyelids grow heavy and I sunk deeper and deeper into the pillows around me, the smell of old books seeping into my skin. Finally, I closed my eyes, and after a few moments, was sound asleep.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a man’s face, unfamiliar but comforting.
“Excuse me…” he said, with a wide grin.
I jumped with embarrassment; ripping my headphones out of my ears, although they were no longer playing anything. How long had I been asleep? And who was this young man? An employee of the shop? A customer?
“Sorry!” I yelped.
The man chuckled as I swung my feet around to the floor and pulled out my phone to check the time. Realizing it was dead, I scanned the room for a clock and with no success I asked the stranger “What time is it?”
He rolled up his sleep, and checked what to be a rather expensive watch. The man was dressed nicely, but nothing too formal. A clean pair of black jeans, a plaid shirt and a sweater over it. His hair, a dark brown looked thick and slightly curled. He ran his fingers through it as he responded. “It’s quarter past.”
“Past what?”
He blinked at me. “Eight…” he paused at my confused look. “A.M”
I gasped at the time. It was just past nine at night when I had dozed off.
Why did the short stalky man not wake me? Did he forget I was upstairs?
Maybe he assumed I had left, and just missed me doing so.
“I…I…” I stumbled upon my words. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, still
unsure who this man was.
“My boss told me you’d be up here.” He lifted my cup of cold coffee and
handed it to me. “I can get you a warm cup if you’d like. We don’t open for another half hour.”
I nodded, and with the cup in hand, the man turned and headed down the stairs. I gathered my things, smoothed out my shirt, tossed my hair to one side and followed the man down the stairs.
“My names Elliot” he shouted from behind the counter and the noises of the coffee machine.
“Ellie.” I shouted back.
A door swung open and in Elliot’s hand was a new cup of coffee.
“That’s a coincidence.”
I smiled nervously and took the cup from the man.
“Sit.” he said, nodded to a table.
I followed his instructions and set my cup down and pulled out a chair.
He stared at me for a moment as I stared at my coffee. After a long moment of silence, I started.
“I am so sorr-”
He stopped me and reached out, resting his hand on top of mine.
“It’s alright Ellie…really.”
I had a few questions but didn’t know where to start. So I let the silence
“My boss figured you needed a place to stay.”
I wasn’t homeless. Did I look homeless?
“Do you...have somewhere to go…?”
I nodded. “I’m not homeless…” I proclaimed. I couldn’t help but stare at
his hands. There was something different about them from the rest of the
“I figured. You’re too well dressed to be homeless.” He smiled, and his
hands moved up and through his hair again.
“So, if you’re not homeless then what’s your story?”
My story? I didn’t have a story. I was a young single girl. Lonely. Living
on her own in the city. On her way home when a snow storm hit. I just stopped into the coffee shop to get warm, not to spend the night like some refugee.
“My story?”
“Yeah, your story.” he continued to grin at me.
I paused to think of an answer.
“I was just on my way home. Stopped in for a cup of coffee. Guess I didn’t
drink enough of it.”
He laughed at the comment, showing a set of pearly white teeth.
“Maybe it wasn’t a very good cup of coffee.” He glanced at the cup in front of me. I lifted it and took a sip.
“This cup’s better.” We both laughed softly, then found each other staring
for long while at one another.
“I’ll make sure not to tell my boss you said that.”
I took another sip. “I should probably go…” I said, standing up.
“Go where?”
He shook his head chuckling slightly. “Hang out. I’ll open late.”
“I don’t want to be more of an inconvenience than I already have been.”
Elliot reached out and took my hand in his, squeezing it softly.
My eyes grew wide, and I felt my heart beat quickly within my chest.
“Let’s not play games with one another. Stay.”
I pulled my hand away, and bit my lip.
“I can’t. I’m sorry Elliot.” I grabbed my bag from under the table, and thew
it across my shoulder. “Thank you…” I said, thinking of his hands but
staring at the blue in his eyes. I turned around, and pushed the door open.


It was Valentine’s Day (or as I like to call it “Singles Awareness Day” ) and my friend had dragged me out to this terrible bar in the suburbs  titled “Distraction” My friend, who was newly single and “ready to mingle” laughed when she saw the big blue sign with the name.
“That’s an ironic name” she said, snickering.
I nodded my head and groaned as we headed inside. She was right. What was this bar distracting me from? If anything, it was drawing more attention to the things I was supposed to be distracted from by just existing with such a name. My friend walked up to the bar, leaned against a stool and ordered something sweet. She asked me if I wanted anything, but I shook my head no. After a few minutes of small talking with her, and watching her sip at her watered down drink, I noticed a young man walking towards us. The bar was dimly lit, and I couldn’t quite make him out but I sighed and turned towards the bartender.
“*** and coke” I hollered out to the man. “Pour heavy!”
I stayed facing the shelves of drinks, the different bottles organized by color and type. Whiskey, Tequila, *****. Suddenly, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and with a deep inhale, I turned; expecting some man with sleeked back hair and a bad tan to be facing me.
Instead, it was Elliot. Staring at me, standing inches from my face. I took a step back into a bar stool, and fell into a seat.
“Ellie” he said, smiling.
I couldn’t help but smile for a moment too, but then I quickly wiped it away as the bartender slid my drink to the right of me. Before I could do anything, Elliot placed a few dollars on the counter.
“You don’t have to -“
“It’s fine”  He continued to smile widely.
I looked around the room for my friend, she was across the room playing darts with some broad shouldered man. I took my glass, placed the straw on the counter and gulped down about half of it in one drink.  
“Happy Valentines Day” he said, almost sarcastically following the statement with a slight laugh.
I felt myself smiling again and took another gulp. The bartender definitely poured heavy. The liquid burned as it slid down my throat, and I clenched my teeth. I could tell Elliot was trying hard not to laugh.
“Would you like to dan-“
I bursted out laughing.
“Dance? Oh god, please. Don’t do this Elliot.”
He stared at me widely for a moment. “What are you so afraid of Ellie?”
I scoffed, and shook my head, taking another drink I responded
“I’m not afraid of anything”
He blinked at me, then ran through his fingers through his hair and breathed out loudly.
“Is it me?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer this, or what he was really even asking. I stumbled on my words, stuttering. I finished my drink, and set the glass down on the counter.
“Another?” he asked.
“No...” I paused. “Thank you”
He stared at me for a moment, his brows furrowed. He reached out to touch me, and I pulled away.
“Ellie...Let me-“
I interrupted him and shouted out “space!”
He looked puzzled, then chuckled.
“I’m afraid of space”
“Space....? Please elaborate.”
“Like the sky, and the planets and the stars and ****”
He laughed softly. “And ****...”
“Think about it. We have no idea what’s out there. We have no idea what’s coming for us. We are so small, comparatively.”
“So you believe in aliens?”
“I believe in possibility”
“Anything could happen.”
“Exactly! Right now, as we speak, the sun could explode.”
“Or, aliens could invade!”
“You’re really stuck on the alien thing.”
“It’s a possibility”
We both sat in silence for a moment, his eyes felt heavy on me. I stood up from my stool, our bodies were almost touching.
“I’ve got to go see if my friends OK.” I said, glancing over at her. She was still playing darts with the broad shoulder man. He had his arms wrapped around her, ‘showing’ her how to hold the dart now.
“She looks like she’s doing ok to me” Elliot said with a snicker.
I didn’t argue.
“What’s your last name?” he asked.
I shook my head violently. “Look, Elliot. You seem-“ I stopped and thought of how I wanted to finish my sentence, but before I could, Elliot grabbed my hand and held it tightly.
“Ellie. I’m just a man. I’m not some comet coming down or some alien race a million light years away. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
I took a few shallow breaths, my heart was pounding. I tried pulling away, but Elliot just pulled himself closer to me.
“You said you believe in possibility. You can’t deny the possibility of you and me.”
He reached up, and tucked a hair that was falling down my face behind my ear then stepped back, letting go of my hand.
“I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to help you conquer your fear”
He grabbed my hand again and pulled me towards the door, I looked over to my friend, but didn’t fight him.
“She’ll be okay.” he said, still tugging me.
I followed him out the door and down the street. We stopped and hailed a cab, as one pulled up, he opened the door for me.
“Get in.”
“I don’t even know you. You could be taking me to some wear house to **** and ****** me!”
“Ellie. Don’t be so dramatic. Get in”
“Where are we going?”
“To the moon.”
“And back again?”
“We’ll see. Maybe once you get there, you’ll never want to leave.”
“It’s a possibility”
I stepped inside the cab, and so did he.


Once we were in the cab, the rush of excitement I was feeling in the bar and in the street had faded. Elliot handed the man his phone, which had an address written on it. The cabbie put the address into his GPS and started the meter as he drove on.
“So are we taking the cab to the moon? Or are we just taking the cab to NASA and then a spaceship to the moon?” I said sarcastically, my voice breaking from nervousness. Elliot put his hand on my leg, and sat back into his seat without saying anything.
“Who’s paying for the cab Elliot?”
He continued to be silent. I turned at stared out the window, I noticed the cab was taking us out of the city and I began to get a little worried.
“Can you please tell me where we’re going?” I asked quickly. I looked back at Elliot, he was sweating.
“Elliot? Is everything OK?” His eyes were shut and his breathing was heavy.
“I’m afraid of things in motion.” he muttered softly.
“Isn’t everything in motion?” he opened his eyes, raised his brows and then smiled at me.
“I mean, the world is always turning and we’re walking, or breathing. So we’re moving, no matter what-“
“Can you be quiet please?”
I looked back out the window again for what felt like a long while. Finally, the cab stopped in front a large abandoned dome like building in a town I had never been in. Elliot was quick to exit the cab, and circle the car to open my door. I stepped out, Elliot paid the driver and the cab drove away.
“So you ARE going to **** and ****** me?”
Elliot looked at me, and took my hand.
“I’m sorry about in the car. What mean by things in motion is like, cars and trains and planes and...” he paused, “and ****...”
We both laughed.
“I knew what you meant. I’m sorry if I was being difficult.”
He gave me a look and I nodded at him. He took me by the hand and led me closer to the building. We reached a door that had been boarded up.
“This doesn’t look like the moon...Or NASA...”
“Ellie. Do you trust me?”
“I...I don’t really even know you so-“
Elliot pried back at the board, slipping into the building through a small space and pulled me inside with him. The room we stepped into was a circle, and in the center; a large telescope.
“Does that even work?”
He squeezed my hand, then let go. Approaching the telescope, he stepped up a small set of stairs to a control panel. He pushed a few buttons and a few moments later, I heard a whirring and a low rattle followed by a deep sound. I felt a slight vibration and suddenly the roof was opening above me, exposing the night sky. On this night, the stars were bright, and the moon was full.
“Come here” Elliot called out from near the telescope.
I started to shake only slightly at the sight of the sky above me, I felt frozen and tense, as if I couldn’t move. Elliot made his way down the stairs and towards me.
“It’s okay Ellie.” he said, reaching for my hand and guiding me towards the telescope. We stepped up the stairs, and he stood next to me, still holding my hand as he adjusted a few things, looking in the telescope, then at me, then back through the telescope. He turned towards me, nudging me.
“Go ahead.”
I looked at the giant metal telescope, and shook my head.
“I really appreciate what you’re trying to do here but-“
He put his hand on my lower back, and pushed me towards the telescope.
“Just look.”
I put my face close to the telescope, an
Melody Mar 2011
So every morning my dad fixes coffee and I drink some.

I sit at my desk,

Catching up with everything that I missed over the night.

I pick up my coffee cup,

When it gets above my upper thigh,

I have no idea what I did...

But I spilled a few drops on my lucky Thumper pajama pants.

"Dang it..."

I take a sip..

Then set the cup back down

On the cup's way to my desk..

I spill some coffee on my right foot..


I set the coffee cup down a little harder...

And it goes over on my mouse-pad.

I glare at the cup..

This cup has always been nice to me,

I don't know why it isn't now.

So about five minutes later I pick the cup back up again

And once again once it is over my thigh,

Coffee spills over in the same spot.

I take a sip, set the cup down, and look at my pants..

"My Thumper pants are going to have a coffee stain on it."

Still aggravated with my coffee and my cup,

I pick it back up again...

While the cup is in my hand is take a different route to my mouth..

It's almost to my mouth when it drops some more coffee on my pants and pajama shirt...

So here I am in my school clothes,

With left over coffee in the cup..

Afraid to drink it.

I take a sip and I don't spill anything...

I have come to this conclusion:

The coffee and the cup hated my Thumper pants and my tank top.

That was my morning, this morning.
Joseph Dazzio Jun 2015
Comfort and joy I have pursued
To secure my life until my death.
Simple and humble joys I chase, issued
To me through labor, hell, and dragon's breath.

This cup of joy that all men seek,
It's contents: love, companionship, and cash
Has proven elusive and when in hand to drink
Is dashed and spilled among the ash

Created on the trek to find
This cup, the cup which is the author
Of every tragedy combined.

The cup is sought and to obtain
The goal, one must crawl through
Hell, stagger half-way the earth in strain
With broken legs and heart construed.

Impossible tasks are made
Our missions on the path to shade.
We preform miracles and set our bones
After the battle against the world.

Crouching in the brush filled with pain.
We see across the field, the cup's estate.
A-lush with greatness and delight;
"After pain and death, my struggle ends tonight."

O! Alas, my humble protagonist,
For through the field and past the guards
You will reach the cup. When you but kissed
The rim, it's contents, the Bards

Of life, are seen and evermore desired,
Your life is to conclude it's pain in a moment's passing
When, the Hand of Fate dashed the Cup from your grip
And spilled the contents among your life's work and pain.
All gone down the drain.

Then the Hand of Fate will throw you
Across the land, back to where you
Began. Your trek of life
Reset. Now suicide seems better than more strife.

And yet, out of the depths you rise, and after yet more tries,
Undergo greater pain, the cup is reached again.
And dashed. While the tragedy doubles in size
And back you are sent to the pit of pain.

And after ruin, you make inquiry.
"What caused my failure to arise
And Fate, my joy to compromise?
For I slew every obstacle that came to me."

For our lonely character shall find
The root of his ruin. The seed of rue
Was planted by none but him and grew,
Unbenounced and out of sight of any kind.

And when the seedling arose as bud,
Our mighty hero tripped with a thud.
"For the most minute of things caused
Your ruin," the lone Muse sings.

The place of your rest,
Where you sat at church,
The brightness of the Moon
Or where a hat and cloak rest.

These are reasons for a good family's ruin.
So avoidable and small,
Yet they cause the mighty to fall
And despair and pain to live in.

And so we sit and kick ourselves
For the mistakes we made that caused our death
When our energy and hope were squeezed drier than sand
And cup was dashed from our calloused hand.

The weeping lover, in arms his love.
The pitiful prisoner, cursing above.
The torn brother, his own flesh dead.
Are all results of the cup dashed
After their very souls bled.

Truly, "All the earth is but a stage
And its people actors!" 'Tis good sense.
The stars are weeping in the sky,
Our vast, eternal audience.
Musings over the tragedy of "Spanish Maine" by PC Wren.
Written on 6-17-15
Teetering on her baby legs
A newborn with a Solo cup
bombastic red with a few
undulating ribs
Held firmly in her hand
Is this her first or her third?
Somnambulant yet eager
And just a little out of place
In a foreign territory
On newly contested lands
She stumbles through a raucous crowd
Or was it just white noise?
She’s lost her companions
Although they could very well be close at hand

In the distance she can make out
Laughing faces
Bodies moving to and fro
Spilling forward, little messes
Throwing back cheap libation

She passes through a room and out the door
Into the out-of-doors
Someone following her unbeknownst
Watching her cautious, curious steps
And when she turns and sees the blur standing
She greets it
“Hail Fellow!”

Bouncing from variable to variable
Frequency to frequency
Confident and in command
Of a seemingly controlled chaos
He approaches smiling and holds out his hand

Having drawn her attention from the stars
That she could not find above
Leaning against the garage’s eastern wall
She takes it awkwardly
Tentative she smiles back reassured
Wobbling she returns standing alongside him
Or was she in front?
Purposeful and en route
Emboldened by his presence
And how the way was parted before her
Just by his being there.
By being so close.
She felt vaguely special
it showed in her half-smile
Cloaked in bangs
She held her head just a little bit higher

The co-conspiratorial glances
Met by boys eyes
And shes
Went unseen by the girl with the
Solo cup
One of tens upon tens upon tens
A coven would have known
It’s better not to


She was shown a seat to rest
And her cup refilled
She takes a sip and smiles again
She takes another and then a gulp
That spills
He takes the cup away
And places it on the low table
Suggests she go to the restroom upstairs and get herself

Embarrassed she is relieved for direction
Someone knows what’s going on
And his caring
Taking the time
His kind eyes
She’s usually alone
She waddles up the stairs to find
a toilet and a mirror
God she thinks
I look a mess
She tries to fix it
The hair
The eyes
The lips
The dress
The stomach
The *******
The thighs

She shrugs her shoulders at her reflection
Exhales and steps out again
To find him standing there
waiting for more.

She wants another cup.
She’s missing her cup.
I’ll get you the cup he says
In just a second.
Colm Apr 2016
The waitress asks what will it be
And I respond with quite ease
No dish or side this time for me
But a cup of tea if you would please

Though graciously she does agree
That half past two is time for tea
She soon returns with what I need
A cup of tea if you would please

A purple *** she sets by me
With spoon to stir the boiling tea
I calmly raise my cup to thee
To a cup of tea if you would please

As wisps of steam drift up with ease
The rolling in my tum decrees
This chai delight empowers me
A cup of tea if you would please

No sugar will I ever need
To taste the apple and the seed
The spice of life which sets me free
Just a cup of tea if you would please

Now comes my check it's time to leave
And the bottom of my cup I see
One final sip to go with me
A cup of tea if you would please

Translated into English in 1859 by Edward FitzGerald

Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted -- "Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."

Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one Knows;
But still the Vine her ancient ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.

And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!" -- the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly -- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life kep falling one by one.

Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.

But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper -- heed them not.

With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot --
And Peace is Mahmud on his Golden Throne!

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, -- and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness --
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win --
What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!

Look to the Rose that blows about us -- "Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone.

And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two and went his way.

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter -- the Wild ***
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean --
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears --
To-morrow? -- Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.

And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom?

Ah, make the most of what we may yet spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie;
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End!

Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! Your Reward is neither Here nor There!"

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are ******
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Works to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about; but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd --
"I came like Water and like Wind I go."

Into this Universe, and Why not knowing,
Nor Whence, like Water *****-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, *****-nilly blowing.

Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.

There was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me.

Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And -- "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.

Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live,
Drink! -- for, once dead, you never shall return."

I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make, and the cold Lip I kiss'd,
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!

For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

And has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd
Of such a clod of saturated Earth
Cast by the Maker into Human mould?

Ah, fill the Cup: -- what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!

A Moment's Halt -- a momentary taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste --
And Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The Nothing it set out from -- Oh, make haste!

Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to itself resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute;
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, fruit.

You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas -- the Grape!

The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The subtle Alchemest that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.

Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted tendril as Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
And if a Curse -- why, then, Who set it there?

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub couch'd,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

For in and out, above, about, below,
'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is't not a shame -- Is't not a shame for him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide?

But that is but a Tent wherein may rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another guest.

I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And after many days my Soul return'd
And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell."

Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.

While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyam and ruby vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to Thee -- take that, and do not shrink.

And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbls like us, and will pour.

When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.

The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;
And he that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all -- He knows -- HE knows!

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
Of what they will, and what they will not -- each
Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to it for help -- for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

I tell You this -- When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul.

The Vine has struck a fiber: which about
If clings my Being -- let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath -- consume me quite,
One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.

What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd --
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer -- Oh the sorry trade!

Nay, but for terror of his wrathful Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;
Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but
Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.

Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou will not with Predestin'd Evil round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give -- and take!

Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.

And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried --
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the ***?"

Then said another -- "Surely not in vain
My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again."

Another said -- "Why, ne'er a peevish Boy,
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that made the vessel in pure Love
And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy?"

None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marred in making -- Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by-and-by!"

So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
The Little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!"

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.

That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.

Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore -- but was I sober when I swore?
And then, and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor -- well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse -- If dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!

Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits -- and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me -- in vain!

And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made one -- turn down an empty Glass!
jeffrey conyers Oct 2012
When we asked if a cup is half this of that.
Just remember it's, how you see the cup?
It can be a reflection of your heart.
Which is a reflection of yourself.

Let's call it.
A cup of love.
Something so wonderful.

With this cup the ingredient will describe us.
Nothing about it should surprises us.
It will contain kindness.
Within this cup.
It will contain respect.
Within this cup.
Within hold temperance.
Within this cup.
And that's just a smart part of it.
In this cup of love.

A tastefulness of sweets.
That will knock you off your feet.
That you be requestioning for a repeat.
Of this cup of love.

We could bottle it.
And make a profit.
But it's simply better to give it.
I wish I was her cup
her favorite cup
the cup she holds affectionately several times a day.
The cup she urgently needs to place her mouth upon
first thing every morn.
The kick-start her day cup
her pick-me-uppa cuppa
I wish I was the cup she always holds
the one she never argues with
the same one which helps sooth her.
The cup that receives those intimate thoughts
she shares with a stare
when lost in reflection of its depths.
If I was that cup
I'd not be envious of the others she uses
the ones she disposes of once her needs have been sedated.
Or the fancypants ones
she uses when guests visit
she'll always come back for me
let another hold me as she does,
I'm only her lover.
sincurlyxbaki Jan 2014
I asked myself over a warm cup of tea, "what kind of beauty is there in finding mystery in yourself?"
I took a little sip, and had more thoughts.
And so I scribbled, a few words on a piece of paper.
a fine day indeed to be playing Thelonious Monk,
one of my favorite Jazz pianists.
y'know, his music has a certain type of soul to it, something inviting about it. I dunno.

with that cup of tea still in hand, I listened to the ocean dance while Monk rushed over the piano keys.

that cup of tea smelled like years of fear and peace to come.
that cup of tea reminded me of the first time I burnt my finger with a candle when I was still a kid.
that cup of tea reminded me of my first love.

it reminded me that I'm still 17, it also tasted like conversations I had with friends about girls we'd never have.
"that girl. she's the one, you'd probably have a chance with her. say something, you shy mo'fo."
but then again it wasn't about probability.

it tasted like 5AM in the morning after your first breakup.
it tasted like 4PM when you wrote your first poem.
it tasted like bitterness.

the tea tasted like my love for things that have aged.
'65 Mustangs and inked pages.
ripped jeans and new faces.
jazz music and new places.

its funny what tea can do one's mind once it burns your tongue and runs down your oesophagus to warm your lungs.

Monk's music in the background, I still scribbled words on a piece of paper.
if only this moment could linger.

cup of tea, cup of tea, what type of flavor did you leave in me?

see, when i stare at this cup, it seems as if it holds unneccessary emptiness.
but can still hold my deepest desires in liquid form - a warm cup of tea.

I probably wrote all of this after I burnt my tongue with tea.
but then again, this isn't about probability.

this is from the deep of things, with love.

Nicole Ashley Feb 2015
I am blue
I am black and white altogether
I can tell today is not my day
Not my day
Not even with you
Not my day
I feel trapped like an insect
Under and inside a glass cup
I am the insect and cup altogether
Transparent but unseen
From the inside
No one can hear me
I'd rather that so
I'd rather them not hear me
All the white noise
Clicked off from the world
I shut down
I'm under and inside the cup
Squirming yet staying still
Never moving evermore
I am blue
I am black and **white altogether
I can tell you this
Today is not my day
Even as I write these words
Not my day
The world's noise was clicked off
As I was put under and inside this cup
Not my day
I hate being in and under
Bug in a cup
Not my day....
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
She, "City' cafe cat
But we would do
for a cup of coffee right?
Where not the punctual
calendar girls day or night
The territories

(My Heaven's) steep spoon swirls
How it became the show
Guys and Dolls
Coffee of diaries souls
How a fortune of words
can burn a cup
One sip out of you just ****
At least my flavor trip
I did a lot of long walking
Sipping below his sea level
Hialeah slim blend
The firelight is
 Beloved by brown warm eyes firefly
This one is the long
sip to meet him bewitched

The Spanish fly
always on his cup trim
More Sambuca  Italian coffee
but why is this so long_
mouth stretching
Another long wait
To get the creamy shining
My light long
way home
Queen bee cream and
sugar delight, not honey
cleverly cupped
international trip money

The charming Knight
Over the coffee feeling
She brews her
he massages her skin
On the fortune road
coffee beans "Parliament"
One long sip enjoyment
Brown leaf so Autummy
That long trip something
is falling
Good body flavor his calling
She neighed into
his love fire dim text
The desire long
all wired

I just want — to — hold you — Egyptian

King with her cherries bing
I never heard of that coffee?
Got like jewels shall bling

One big fortune her vocal chord sing
we work harder to be more
golden winning goes to _

The winner holding beans
Eyes of fortune Emmy fascination
(Sweet Carolina) honey so much more
blossom into her coffee such luster
bean amazingly guilty hey buster
Feeling so fortunate
how he reads into her expression

The Lord is my shepherd is coming
but hesitancy in her response
Then the next kiss would be with
her coffee embrace could he afford her
Also, her Sophia seduction like
styled camped
Safari how coffee became
the love cure for illnesses
how it healed hearts and asthma

(Her Vows) desireable boiled bows
Buganda Kingdom
I love you in the morning shore

What an obsession fortune beds
of Coffee, fingertips trailed to him
because he couldn't let her go
completely loving coffee and she

He cupped her in his
broad shoulders so he
Let’s be creative and
think of fortune names


Richest self-made millionaires
the rim of my coffee cup

I see a fortune flowing one long
trip faces glowing

Howard Schultz Forbes fortunes from scratch
I guess he saw his beans clearly no eye to patch
So the name like "Starbucks"
Knocking on heavily cup the
woodpecker chucks trip of coffee perks
That billionaire
is Facebook
Mark Zuckerberg
entrepreneur what a face
nothing more just faces
Will I get an idea the way they do?

Let’s open the (Gate Bill)
micro-soft computer,
French roast bold what was
really told
Hungary England how he
survived the **** Budapest
now he trying to save
other refuges with 500 million

Like her tiny cup of Turkish
heavy sediment Istanbul
Oceans storms her Grecian coffee
Also, her mind was dazzled but rambled
by the intruder
Leaving her all different coffee flavors
Like a fortune of familiar words
One knowing about coffee?
The “Spicy Taco” I felt I was in a
spiritual environment
of the Mecca in the holy city
Stephen when he went to her place
he would try so hard to protect her

Seeing the fortune coming inside the
amber water fountain
She knew his (Grecian Island)
flavors so well
with cardamon meet lovely (Cinnamon)
The coffee so sinfully the game
backgammon and chess

How love came in many Cafes parades
of the New Orlean Carnival
the Turkish armies "Parisian ****"
women and Men
Robes Pierre French revolution
What an evolution world cafes
Long ago far away 1600 Pope Clement
V111 pleasure full cup of Turkish coffee
very popular business thinkers

One golden ticket most expensive coffee
(Starbucks) the trip of a lifetime
(Cafe Nero)
Please bow to (Grace Kelly) coffee
Princess of Morocco how people
are looking more exotic back
in fortunes bed and ***
One long lie what to be said
Doing the Egyptian coffee dance
Exotic love Islands and France
How she Sophia waited for him in
bed nakedly the "Egyptian silky"
love sheets pour the crystal eyes
((Fifty flavor))
shades of coffee her
eyes opened he
saved her with her
special blend
The depth of loving his hands
melted inside of her coffee
He was her love intruder
her all his coffee flavors
For an instant, their eyes
met like the grains
of heat, she was drowning
in his honey brown depths.
One long Coffee trip my way of telling this coffee-lite all over the website story I hope you have time for my fresh many flavors to enhance your love life even if your single may e in a whole bean better or married to a fortune King you know how to get you coffee he serves you hot and boiling mad but at the end of the coffee *** your siling money glad
singingghosts May 2016
triple layer chocolate cake (hint of coconut) with mint lime cream filling completely encased in chocolate.


8oz cream cheese
1 and 1/4 stick of butter
possible 3 cups of powder sugar
2 limes
fresh mint
all purpose unbleached flour
white sugar
baking soda
Cocoa power
2 eggs
coconut extract
vegetable oil
dark chocolate chips
whipping cream

I can't remember what else but I say what below in case I missed something

8oz cream cheese
1 stick butter
2.5 cups of powdered sugar
3 tablespoons lime juice
2 teaspoons lime zest
half handful of mint leaves

BLEND mint, lime juice & zest together. you want mint to be tiny tiny.

BEAT butter and cream cheese together. I leave them out, sometimes I heat them up to make it easier to beat.

BLEND lime mint mixture into cream cheese butter.

ADD powder sugar.

MIX all together by hand first.

get a hand mixer or beater or whatever and literally beat the **** outta that stuff. until it whips up as much as possible.

PUT it in the fridge for a few minutes. like 10. just to check how it does. if it's not a consistency like cream, beat it more and add half a cup of confectionary sugar.

CAKE MIX: (realistically you can just buy cake mix)

2 cups all purpose unbleached flour
2 cups white sugar
3/4 cup cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup vegetable oil (or any type of shortening you prefer)
1 cup water
2 teaspoon coconut extract

put all the dry ingredients into a bowl. MIX with a whisk or something. if you have sifter, use that to break up the flour. you wanna get all the dry ingredients mixed pretty well before you add wet.

ok, so flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt. all together. great job.

next, BEAT all the wet ingredients together NOT INCLUDING THE WATER.

you beat the eggs, buttermilk (don't replace this with regular milk), oil, and extract. once it's all blended all nice, add it to the dry and mix it together by hand.

you use an electric mixer or beater now. the reason you hand mix everything first is to avoid a bigger mess when the machine mixes because it can make the dry ingredients spread out like ****. and I hate messes. so I'm extremely **** in the kitchen.

ok now just beat it all baby. add the water slowly. a lot of people will tell you to use boiling water. you can but I don't suggest it to anyone who has never used boiling water in a batter before... so I'm not suggesting it.

it should be runny and also delicious. if it's not, uhm... oops? mine was great. you ****** up. let's continue.

GANACHE!!!!!: (wait until the cakes done AND COOLED to do this part tho!!!)

get a ***
add a bag of dark chocolate or milk chocolate whichever you want. I prefer dark chocolate while baking.
I really eye this so I'm throwing caution to the wind here and pour maybe 3/4 cup of heavy cream or whipping cream.
also, 2 tablespoons of butter. (you don't NEED the butter but I like what it does to the ganache)

ok now on low heat leave those things in the ***. mix it a little. DONT LET IT BURN. MEANING, DONT PUT IT ON HIGH HEAT. YOU WANT A SLOW MELT

Ok so. mix it until it's creamy and silky and soft. but seriously do this part at the very end.

get three 9 inch cake pans. spray, butter, coat, oil WHATEVER just grease the ******* pans.

use a measuring cup because you want each cake layer to be the same. do 1.5 cups of batter in each. if you have left over, divide it by three.

bake it at 300F for 30 minutes

don't open the door between those 30 minutes. when you do, poke middle with toothpick. if toothpick comes out clean, it's done.

let cool completely on a cooling rack.

some people cut the tops off to make the cake layer even. I **** at cutting things evenly unless it's ******* so I have my own method. I suggest cutting though. you can also cut the edges if they're crispy but I like it that way.

ok. the ganache. get a spoon and just coat the top layers of the bottom and soon to be middle layer.

you want all three layers lined up next to each other.

take the *** off the heat while you're doing this. just hold off for a moment. you come back to it.

let the ganache layers cool down. you'll know when it's cool. when this happens  get the cream and do a nice layer over the chocolate. now stack them.

it should be from the bottom up: cake, chocolate, cream, cake, chocolate, cream, cake. (try to stack in on a cooling rack)

take the rest of the cream and evenly spread it over the entire cake.

nice. the rest of the chocolate ganache? double check that it is POURABLE but also that it's NOT HOT. warm is ok but a little less than warm would be ideal.

pour. the. chocolate. over. the. entire. cake. if you can do this on a cooling rack, do it. it'll let the excess chocolate drip down. you can take a knife to spread it around nicely. I think that's it. I can't think of anything else.
Lucy Tonic Sep 2012
Father sees in secret
Praying in the closet
To let the cup pass on
Fulfilling not destroying
The curse of family units
To let the cup pass on
Planting mustard seeds
Overthrowing tetrarchs
To let the cup pass on
People full of dead men’s bones
A generation of vipers
To let the cup pass on
Wailing and gnashing
Once it’s 70 x 7
To let the cup pass on
Convert to little children
Align your heart and mouth
To let the cup pass on
He who isn’t with me
Is surely against me
So let the cup pass on
JR Rhine Nov 2015
Dragged out of warm sheets
Cold floor reaches out to bare feet
Amble shuffle through routine
Eyes closed, still no need to see
Arms reach up to the morning sky
Bones crack and stiff muscles sigh
Yawn escapes mouth open wide
Fight the urge to flee from the light
Get dressed, comb unruly hair
Put on worn shoes, with time to spare
Consult the mirror, if you dare
A glance at the face you choose to wear
Into the kitchen, find the tea ***
Fill with water, and your mind with thought
Turn on the stove, it’s getting hot
Boiling water, a bubbling lot
Pour into cup, greet bag of tea
Milk and sugar, whatever you please
Lean over the cup, confront the steam
That greets your face like warm hands on a cheek
Inhale deeply, take it in
The mark for your day to begin
Your mind awakens, you spring up within
The spice kisses your eyes to finally open
Wrap the cup in icy hands
Warmth tingles cold fingers like a giddy dance
Bring the cup to lips in a spell bounded trance
Eyes close, lips part, cup tilts back in advance
Liquid ecstasy colors red lips
Like the efflorescent rose when sunlight hits
Like the indelible taste of a lover’s kiss
It graces over teeth and tongue, passing bliss
How it colors the body and colors the mind
Leaving traces of weariness behind
Giving life and hope to this new light
To greet today as a gift in life
Start today with a cup of tea
Make it your own, whether bitter or sweet
I hope it means much to you as it does to me
Greet today with a cup of tea.
A cup of tea every morning is one of the best parts of my day.
Damian Murphy Jun 2015
The question has to be asked, “How hard can it be,
for a man to get a decent cup of tea”?
How can people get something so simple so wrong?
A question that has vexed me for ever so long.

Let me be clear, lest there be any confusion
I’m not into tea leaves or these fancy new infusions
Nor herbal or green, earl grey or the rest
A good plain cup of tea is simply the best!

I wonder why it is that people bother to ask
When they will not put any real effort into the task
Yes they are careful to ask how you take your tea
But what you get is something different, entirely

If there is one thing that really gets to me
It is being made a half cup of tea
I always opt for a mug because there’s never enough in a cup
But for some reason they seem incapable of filling it up!

After just two mouthfuls, Surprise! It is all gone!
I hate always having to ask for another one
All the effort they made has gone to waste
The whole experience leaving a very bad taste.

Making tea is a formula, very hard to get wrong
why so often served weak when I always ask for strong?
A small drop of milk please, how hard can it be?
But I often get tea in my milk, not milk in my tea

I do like my sugar and to tell the truth
I do possess an awfully sweet tooth
“three and a bit” I say when they ask
But is stirring it such an impossible task?

How easy can it be? Just move the ****** spoon
You were just standing there, what else were you doing?
And to see all that sugar sitting there at the end
Would drive the most sane person round the bend

Another thing I get really mad about
Is when people do not take the teabag out
And though the cup appears to be full to the top
You take the bag out and watch the level drop

You might think it’s funny but it’s certainly not
What to do with a teabag that is dripping hot?
A cup of tea is supposed to help you relax
Not be the cause of minor heart attacks

And the biggest evil, by far the worst
Is those who serve tea, knowing the teabag has burst
At the end you get a mouthful of leaves and grit
I do love my tea but wonder if it is worth it.

It got to the stage where I considered drinking coffee
But I was bamboozled by the variety available to me
Mocha or latte, perhaps a frappuccino,
Or maybe an espresso or a cappuccino

No, the idea of drinking coffee just left me cold
all I really wanted was a cup of tea truth be told,
Though I have been accused of taking this issue too seriously
There is nothing in the world quite like…. a decent cup of Tea!
Q Mar 2014
Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I add a teaspoon too much insanity?
Does your mouth twist at the taste of me?
Am I not your cup of tea?

Or do I fit you perfectly?
When you see the crazy,
Do you drink deeply?
Am I your perfect cup of tea?

Am I far too bitter?
Can you even taste the sweet?
Did I add too much hurt,
To be your perfect cup of tea?

Or maybe you take your tea black.
Maybe I'm just right.
Maybe you sip and savor
Maybe I'm just the right kind.

Am I not your cup of tea?
Did I steep too much of me?
Were the additives too sweet
To be your perfect cup of tea?
Mitchell Apr 2015
Just tell me the truth, Evie said.
I closed my eyes and turned my head toward the window.
The brightness of the sun turned my black vision a warm orange-red.
Evie said something else but, I didn't catch it.
What? I asked.
Tell me the truth, she said again, more demanding.
The truth?
Yes. Heard of it?
Yeah, I nodded, debating whether I should start ******* with her or keep it serious. Keep it serious? I asked myself. But why?
But I hear it's a very rare thing. I took a sip of my beer and placed it gently back on its coaster.
I don't have to **** around with you anymore. Did you cheat on me or did you not?
I did.
Evie inhaled, exhaled, and then stood up.
Where are you going? I asked her. I didn't stand up because I was pretty sure she wouldn't slap me if I was sitting down. I didn't want to cause a scene. Ron's Diner was my favorite place for coffee in LA.
Where am I going? she sighed. Where the **** do you think I'm going?She took two dollars out of her Dolce Gabana wallet and flicked them on the table. They fluttered in the air for a moment then fell onto the table.
Language...I whispered, looking around the diner.
Ron wasn't there, but Wendy - his wife - was putting some bear claws on a large plastic platter by the register. She'd been giving us  the eye since we sat down. It seemed she could tell we were going to be trouble. Her rhinestone glasses glittered from the light coming in through the blinds. It was rush hour downtown. The car exhaust and the heat seemed to be pouring in from every crack in the building.
Sit down, I told Evie.
Why the hell should I?
You're not mad. I can tell. You don't even like me enough to really be mad at me. Sit down.
We've been dating six months you *******. When should I start getting the respect I know I deserve, Ave? In another six months?
Lower your voice, yeah? Sit down and let me order you some food. What do you want?
Evie bent down and looked at the menu. I relaxed and stopped worrying about a scene starting. She ran her finger down the appetizers and while I watched her do this, I remembered she never ordered appetizers in the six months I'd been taking her out, even when I was paying.
You looking at the appe...
Evie gripped the cup of ice water sitting on the edge of the table and threw it all - water and ice - in my face.
One more ****** ******* meal with you at this ****** ******* diner and I'd put a bullet up my ****** and pull the ******* TRIGGER!
Evie whipped the empty plastic cup onto the floor. It skipped, jumped, and slid all the way to the front door. Just as it was about to hit the door, Ron walked in. The cup slid right between his legs and out onto the sidewalk.
What the hell...? Ron said trailing off. He looked over his shoulder at the cup now in the middle of the street then at Wendy.
She shook her head and pointed at me. Evie was already out the door, brushing violently past Ron.
Ave! Ron shouted, Ave, what the hell is going on here?
Ah, I sighed sitting back down, Just another one of my mistakes.
Go get my ******* cup! It's in the middle of the street!
I walked down the aisle, passing hunched over regulars mumbling nonsensical judgments while sipping on their coffee, cream and Splenda, buttered toast, biscuits and gravy, but slowed down when I tried to get around Ron. Wendy was standing cross-armed standing over the register. I looked over at her and stifled a laugh. Her glasses made her eyes appear three sizes too big. She was a real life cartoon character. I was about to run out into the middle of the street when a semi ran over the plastic cup. It exploded underneath the weight of the tire and millions of shards flew everywhere.
*******! Ron screamed from the door of his diner, You owe me a ******* new plastic cup! He was pointing his big hand at me. It was shaking.
I threw up my hands standing in the middle of the sidewalk. How much you want for it, Ron? How much does a plastic cup ******* cost?
Ron thought about it for moment and then said, Five. Five bucks for the cup and the trouble.
Fine, I said.
I walked back inside, finished my coffee, had another one, and then paid my tab with five extra on top. I'd only been in LA a year and this kind of **** was already pretty regular.
CandidlySubtle Jul 2016
A glass cup sits on a table,
Five inches tall and smooth walls,
Plain, ordinary, transparent,
Water filled to the rim,
Glistening, clean, and pure.

A thirsty man sees the cup,
Gets excited and reaches out,
Be gentle, he says to himself,
But the water still spills,
It was filled to the the rim, you see.

A few drops fell onto the table,
But it's only a few,
Only a few drops slipped,
Only a few drops gone,
Only a few drops missed.

The man takes a gulp,
Quenching his thirst,
The water is no longer pure,
He takes another gulp,
The cup is no longer clean,
Another and another,
Until a sliver is left.

The man refills the cup,
With something he likes,
Slightly below the rim this time,
The liquid is no longer clear,
But the glass still transparent.

The man takes another gulp,
Another and a few sips,
Until there is two inches left,
He abandons the cup,

A glass cup sits on a table,
Filled less than halfway,
Opaque and unclean,
It stands on the table,
Among clean water,
         Spilled from before.
Briano Alliano performing a west coast eagles party on Saturn

Hi welcome to Saturn and tonight I will celebrate the west coast eagles winning the 2018 premiership with our first song
West coast Macarena

You see the mighty west coast eagles
They won and they are mighty
They looked like they’ll lose it
But they kept fighting and pushed it
Each player played well
They go back to Perth with the cup yeah
Yeah party all night all ****** night go the mighty eagles
1 2 3 4 go the mighty eagles
Keep the fight up till the final siren
It is all worth it as we lift the cup
Go the west coast eagles
Then the fun began they started
Bringing our team to the stage
After barnsy
Everybody was cheering
Saying go the mighty eagles
1 2 3 4 go the mighty eagles
Yes we won the cup
And boy are we happy
We are planning to get drunk all flaming night
Go the mighty eagles

And now here is the next song
Clap for eagles

3 6 9 the eagles are fine
We just won the cup
And we feel divine
The crowd at the mcg were happy mate
Can’t wait to get back to Perth
To see the crowd that couldn’t make it yeah
We put our hands up and lift our voice and cheer
Everybody joins us when we say
3 6 9 go the eagles tonight
The cup is ours all through our lives

And now here is the west coast victory song
We won we won we won
The mighty west coast eagles
The cup the cup is ours
Yes we are celebrating
You see we are the best mate
Winning is our friend
We never ever gave up
Right to the very end
Go eagles go eagles go eagles go
Winning the cup means everything to us our gracious team
You see we are fighters
And we are bad and mean
Never giving up and
We got the prize
Yes, we were keen
Go eagles go eagles go eagles go
The cup is ours
Go the mighty eagles
Till the day is done

This is a cheer I had in the past with the eagles

We are the eagles the west coast eagles
We the ones who will win this game
Each goal we score
Will be a blessing dude
Yes we will win this game
You see mate the cup is ours
And mate it was a bit of a fight
We are the eagles the west coast eagles
We are the winners of 2018
Go the mighty eagles yeah
Every single day go west coast eagles

The next cheering song says this

They never thought we would fail it no the eagles are the best the 2018 season is over yeah
And the eagles come up the best the eagles had their heartaches at the start oh yeah
But they kept on fighting and
We won it yeseree
At the end we cheered for them
And the supporters are cheering in Perth saying go the mighty eagles yes we are so great
Now we are coming home
And we are expecting an almighty roar go the eagles
The west coast eagles
Yes we won and we are happy
A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

Her eyes twinkling like the stars in the night sky,
But he loves the way she takes a sip of her over-priced latte,
He wonder why he's infatuated with those undone maroon flocks,
No surprise, Linda's outgoing personality matches her lovely voice,
Laughter comes easy with her,
She tells her stories about life and lies,
But he's lost in those beautiful hands,
As he pledged his love that spring.

A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

A tender touch
Her intimidating tone,
Brimmed my eyes with guilt,
As I confessed my past sins to my only friend.
'Wanting to know all', I finally started,
' I overlooked each particle, containing the whole unknowable.'
she looks into my eyes,confused.
I carry on,
'I missed love's everywhere,
Small presence, thousand-guised.
For I could not differentiate between what was wrong and what was right,
Forgive me, forgiver.'
I heard the trust break louder than the shatter of her favorite coffee mug against the floor.
' I want to know all' she said
And I finally opened.

A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

Mind numb,
Heart dumb,
Treated like dirt,
Taken out for a cup of coffee,
With free humiliation.
Feeling so fragile and helpless,
Hiding behind his own shadow,
A single, rebel tear rolls down his eyes,
Then a revolution of them cascading down,
His face is time-chiseled and weather beaten,
Seem a bit spiritless,
As if life and old age are getting better of him,
He still wears that moth-eaten coat carrying a smell of blueberries his wife used to love.
Taken out for a cup of coffee,
An element for show off,
'Look how much I love my uncle!'
But the truth lies in those contorted fingers.

A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

'Come my baby girl!
Let's celebrate!'
Such words coming out of a man so precious to her soul,
'But something's missing',
She says with long lost courage,
'Daddy I've regretted all the pain,
I'm exhausted now from all my thoughts,
Science is not what I desire,
My heart lives in free spirit.'
Daddy's eyes didn't blink for 20 seconds,
A portrait of a man having a cribbed Abe Lincoln beard,
The daughter is ready for rejection,
But he's thinking about all the cards she gifted " my papa, my hero",
Deciding it's time to show.

I don't know what was so special about that coffee shop.
Thank you Sonakshi , Falguni and Cheryl for encouraging me. <3
Would it seem presumptuous, perhaps impertinent,
of me to invite you for a cup of tea on a sunny Sunday
morning at a small shop on a well- trafficked street?
And, it you were to agree would you question me,
over that cup of tea, or before, as to why I wish
your company on a sunny Sunday morning?

I might answer, before that cup of tea, that your interests
interest me, and given what I see, you seem quite shy (and
I have heard this is true) and I think you might be more
inclined to reply over a cup of pekoe brew on a safe and
sunny well-trafficked street on a Sunday morning.

And, what would the object be, you might ask, of meeting
over a cup of tea and what would a pertinent question be?

The why and why not of what you know and what you do,
the who and why and what of you  cannot all be explained
over a cup of tea on a sunny Sunday morning, but a small
answer, say a cupful, with one who takes pleasure in
interesting conversation with one who seems interesting
is all the question and answer needed on a sunny Sunday
morning and a cup of tea.
Jem Aug 2016
when i was younger
i was never able to pour
my hands shook too much
trembling with each thought
each drink i attempted to serve
would splash right out
i put too much force, too much pressure
or simply didn't give enough
i'd shake the cup
the spout
change my mind on the direction
flighty and afraid to give
there were many stains
in my childhood
some never washed out.

slowly i learned
how to steady my hand
my enthusiasm sparked over many glasses
passed around to visitors
a bartender
with no cost
i searched for myself
in the midst of others
in the missing hours
in the scattered napkins
i never stayed long enough
to learn if they liked the drink

eventually my arms grew weary
all of the vessels
heavy and solid
they wore on my mind
i had given too much
it was only when i had stopped pouring drinks
that another's lips
asked for a sip
with hesitation
i poured a cup
he did not drink
instead we spoke
while the ice melted into the glass
finally he took a taste
of the watered down basin
i was sure he would spit it out
we had waited too long
and i didn't think it was good in the first place
he looked up from his glass
and i felt conscious
of my freckles
my crooked smile
the way i laugh when i’m nervous
i wanted nothing more than to melt away
when he politely asked if i would pour him another cup
as he had finished his

and then that i knew
that this cup was meant for him.

we shared our drinks many times
he poured me new and exciting tastes
and i returned the favor
there was always the right amount
of sweet in the drinks he served
happiness was found in the cabinet
where our cups clinked together

until the day i found myself
waking up, stumbling around,
and my cup had grown
confused, unsure
i poured his drink
he sipped his morning coffee
but there was some remaining when he left
how could that be?
i asked myself
glancing around, expecting the sunlight to whisper me the answer
i grabbed my cup and ran off
not wanting to let the drink go to waste
but not knowing what to do.

through the street
through the grass
i wasn't sure what i was looking for
when i saw them pass into my gaze
they gestured me over
the blanket beside them, a gesturing hello
we spoke of the trees and souls
and how one could fall in their sleep
the wind tickled our hair
as our colors fell into one
natural and free
we laughed and i remembered the cup
burning in my hand
not empty
i placed it in their hand
as if that was what i was supposed to do
i told them i had made this drink
and given it away, but some remained
without realizing that it could be wrong to share
a smile was all it took
for me to realize
that this cup is made for more than one.
May Oct 2016
It was made by her hand
Just like other days
Adding tea milk and sugary sugar
Except one thing
That was her love
Her beautiful hand
Left she used for all her works
With the ring
Represented the bond of life
The tea cup was lucky and happy
To be carried by her hand
Smooth and soft
The tea cup was overflowed with happiness
It smiled
But she thought it was steaming
Due to hotty hot boiled water
It was the destination of its journey
She kept it on a table
Clear and well organized
With a laptop on it
A man kept staring at it
But he did not notice
That she brought a tea
Did not smile with her
The tea cup felt strange
The man was ignoring it
The tea cup was boring
The morning breeze came in
From the opened windows
Tea cup felt sad
The smile started to fade
The curls of steam started to fade
As it was crying hard
One hour left
The man was gone
The tea cup was alone
The steam too has gone
Cold it was
He poured the coffee
Into the cup
He put the milk
Into the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
Into the coffee with milk
With a small spoon
He churned
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He emptied the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He lighted
One cigarette
He made circles
With the smoke
He shook off the ash
Into the ashtray
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
He got up
He put on
A hat on his head
He put on
A raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Into the rain
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
And I buried
My face in my hands
And I cried
Maria Mitea May 2020
One little hand could not stop the cup from
dropping like a giant on the country wood floor,

“We need a cup factory in this home” I hear the voice of frowning walls

In a fraction of a second, I am the child that breaks the cup.

I want to hide when mother’s voice flows like a honey river
“Leave the child alone, don’t you see that the cup asks for mother’s love”

O,  broken cup filled with mother's love
on the country wood floor.
You loved the child,

“darling take the broom and clean the floor,
when walking no one gets hurt.
Let me know if you do need help”

Her soft voice makes the broom dance and sing, and
the wood floor clean, shining back love to all children that ever broke
the cup,

all we need for lifelong doves is a broken cup
glued with mother's love
Poemasabi Feb 2015
My pudding cup won't stand up
It can't support the weight of the spoon

When it's full of pudding it holds it up just fine
but when the delicious ballast is removed
and the spoon placed back in the cup
it tips over
like a small sailing boat
in the hands of an inexperienced crew

It's like the designer of the pudding cup
couldn't conceive of a time
when a spoon would be in the cup
without pudding

So the cup is clutched in hand
then emptied
and discarded like a husk
never to meet table again

and the spoon?
tossed in the sink with a wine glass
and an emptied bowl
until recently full of hot creamy clam chowder
and crunchy oyster crackers

still cradling it's spoon mind you
Jay M Wong Feb 2013
Stop. Who’s there? Tis clock strikes twelve,
brings thy Horatio to seek tis specter from hell,
In Denmark, something is rotting in thy state,
In Norway, unimprovèd mettle hot and full awaits,
Tis specter arrives to arouse confusion and fear,
but to treat it violence and majestic threat,
thy specter departs as the ****’s crow drew near,  
leaving the blows of malicious mockery to regret.
And for Hamlet may speak to the wandering soul,
Tis morning to Hamlet must the three a’go.

Claudius, thy Uncle, is crowned King a’last,
Gertrude, thy Mother, hastily marries a’fast.
With duties done, Laertes to France adieu,
Hamlet griefs thy Father’s death and thy Mother’s dine,
for once a Hyperion to now a satyr is Uncle to Father a’new,
is but now a little more than kin and less than kind.
Horatio brings poor Hamlet the fatherly news,
that King Hamlet’s specter is now a’loose.
The joyous Hamlet is but joyous to see,
the two month father, dead and decease,
but for he calls that foul deeds will foully arise.
He hurries to the heavenly site prior sunrise.

Laertes to Ophelia, a brother to sister, he warns,
that Hamlet is but a fiery lover and to love he sworn,
but to love now is but not the future,
for Hamlet’s fire may, thy mind unpure,
for his lovely vows are not to believe,
he is but a man of deception to conceive.
For when Laertes departs, Polonius rants,
that Hamlet’s love, Ophelia must recant
for his affections and fashions are but false wows,
for when blood burns, lends the tongue false vows.

Shrewdly the air bites, nipping and eager,
at Horatio and Hamlet thy specter nears.
To speak alone, it beckons so,
But Horatio to Hamlet speaks no,
for may it draw thy madness and strip thy reason,
but to thee specter does Hamlet go,
for thy life is but a’lacking living reason.
Aback do they hold him most,
but Hamlet, his sword he wields
Fate has brought him here, he feels
To hold him back is but to turn a’ghost

Revenge, does his heavenly father speak,
of tis horrid ****** of unnatural feat.
For the orchard’s snake, wears thy father’s crown
and ****** thy gracious Queen, whose now evil abound.
With dignity and devotion she loved me so,
but tis sinful ******, Hamlet, you must’a know!
Through my ears, a venomous potion he drew,
thy fair Uncle, Claudius that potion he brew.
Abed, my life he ended this night,
And to my crown and Queen took he a’flight.
For thy dearest father, revenge must thy draw
upon thy villainous head, Claudius must fall
And to thy sword thou dearest friends must swear,
to tell not the occasions of this night we bear,
And to madness Hamlet must falsely seek,
to discover the truth of horrid deed beneath.

Reynaldo to Laertes, Claudius a’spies,
to Paris, Reynaldo goes with a’plan devised,
to seek the situation of Laertes in foreign hoods,
with bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
Ophelia then enters, with her father she shares,
"Oh, father, father, I’ve just had such a scare!"
In her sewing room, it is Hamlet she sees,
with no hat, nor buttons, nor stable knees
For he stared and stared to let out a final sigh,
Love mad he may be, a’to King we must a’by.

With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
Directly or indirectly will Claudius learn,
of Hamlet’s matters they are to return.
Polonius, with news of Hamlet, he waits,
for thee Ambassador, to inform that Denmark Gates,
Are to be opened for young Fortinbra’s ****** defeat,
Polonius to Claudius, reveals thy madness roots,
For Hamlet is but love crazy for the fairest fruits,
of dearest Ophelia, who a letter he wrote,
Proclaims the fairness of her upon tis note.
And to test the truth, their confrontation, must’e spy,
Behind the arras to view thy love-mad side.
Is but our hastily marriage and his father’s death,
thy Mother, aware, are but the means of his mad breath.
Polonius then to Hamlet, speaks of witty words,
A fishmonger he calls, but one of two is misheard,
For when Polonius humbly takes a’leave,
He is but to take anything, but his life, shall he not receive.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, enter to Hamlet, they chat,
but Hamlet to quickly find the two are but a King’s ****,
Only sent to spy on a dearest friend,
And to human’s name do they offend,
Only to betray a dearest friend in honor of the King.
And so Players arrived at Denmark grounds,
for they, the best in the world, Polonius sounds.
And then for Jephthah, witty Hamlet chants,
the song of a foolish man who accidently grants,
the sacrifice of his beloved daughter.
Pyrrhus, do they perform for dearest Hamlet,
His sword is a’air, but a’air it sets,
for he hesitates to swing thy sword,
And with this, Hamlet hopes to store,
the strength to **** the horrid Lord.
Though he is but ashamed, for upon false emotions can Players act,
And in himself upon truths, strength can he not extract.
So a play for the King’s conscience does Hamlet devise,
for the heavenly ghost may be false in his advice.

To be or not to be; that is the question,
For Hamlet to be nobler or to a’take action,
Shall he withdraw with ****** self slaughter,
But shall’st never may see thy fairest daughter,
To die, but to sleep for a mere dream,
But in sleep shall fair or foul be unseen?
Now Polonius and Claudius awaits,
for Hamlet’s arranged meet with a’bait.
Hamlet to Ophelia, his love recants,
For honesty and beauty are but Someone’s grants,
Once did he love her, but now a’figured,
that women are but corrupt and impured,
For one’s honestly and beauty can and shall be taint,
For if God given thou one face, dear not another by paint.
For honestly and beauty has God falsely bred,
All but one, shall women *****.
All but one, shall women be nun.
Hence this marriage is over, and to a nunnery at once,

Let this mousetrap be named and this play a’set,
Shall capture thy horrid mouse or thy Uncle of Hamlet.
Polonius to Hamlet, the theater he knows,
For a Caesar death died he at thee Capitol.
Upon the lap of fair Ophelia, does Hamlet, lie,
Only to think of country matters and nothing (he implies).
And the play begins, with a prologue so brief,
Like a woman’s love, was Hamlet’s belief.
The King and Queen, a loving bond they share,
But the King by a mystic potion envenomed beware.
Thee action to ****, a murderous scene it was,
Leaving Claudius to regret the murderous act abuzz,
He arises to say: Let there be light! Let there be light!
And to the joy of Hamlet to see tis joyous sight,
For the words of thy heavenly father was but right.
Now shall the minute parts of truth ignite.
And to his Mother he shall speak daggers wield none,
for shall his tongue speak of the cruelties undone.

With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to England a’go,
Should insane Hamlet know not a hawk from a crow,
And behind the arras, Polonius will again spy,
the taxation of Hamlet and his Mother’s cry.
Polonius departs to spy upon the Mother and the Insane,
Only to leave Claudius to regret thy hideous Mark of Cain,
Shall he pray the Heavens to forgive him his actions,
For thy stripped thy Brother of life, throne, and attractions.
As Claudius is never to withdraw his stripped token,
Divine forgiveness shall never then be unspoken.
Hamlet can **** not his murderous Uncle in praying stance,
For a hideous monster shall not a’go Heaven by chance.

So behind the arras dearest Polonius stays,
to view the idle and wicked tongue arrays,
Thou’st the Queen, Thy Husband’s Brother’s wife!
But to hear a rat, shall Hamlet for a ducat its life.
Oh, but death ‘neath the arras, may it the King?
A horrid act? To **** and wear thy brother’s ring?
Oh, King it be not, but be a wretched, rash fool,
And now shall Hamlet tell thy Myth a’Ghoul.
For thy murderer has slain thy Heavenly mate,
And only now by natural law does he abate.
Upon these portraits shall ring a’clear,
That from thy Heavenly father is he nowhere near,
A murderer, a villain, a horrid fiend,
He is but a devilish murderer yield unclean,
No way can one drop from THIS to THAT,
And shall by this scene, the specterous soul attract,
Dear not be untenderly to thy Mother it speaks,
And shall this revenge soon awake its peak,
Hamlet appears a’mad to thy watching Mother,
but to his mother he warns, abed not another,
For two mouths should speak of none,
of this revenge that will soon be done.
And again, abed let not him ****** you so,
For now, apart to English must’e a’go.

Gertrude to Claudius, she continues to reveal,
Of Polonius’s ****** and his arras squeal,
"A rat! A rat!" A’mad Hamlet is,
Brandished, to rapier the life of his.
And now where’s thou Hamlet still?
To draw apart the body he hath killed.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is but yet called again,
With discord and dismay, are they to seek that thou slain.

The two seek to Hamlet, for the body’s lair,
Compounded with dust now does it wear,
And a sponge, does Hamlet call them so,
for the King to squeeze them dry and thorough,
"A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear."
The body a’by a’King, but a’King, the body unnear.
And so, Hamlet to the King premiere.

And to Claudius does Hamlet call,
That Polonius now rests at a dining hall,
‘til a conference of worms devours him all
He shall eat not, but they eat so,
‘tis our fate despite status quo.
And upon the lobby stairs a corpse may lay,
One of dearest Polonius, slain to heaven or hell
Now to English death must Hamlet pay,
To one mother does he give two farewells.

With a Captain does Hamlet now proceed,
Who tells of young Fortinbras of Norway accede,
The Norway prince through Denmark he leads,
to seize a’minute ****** patch must’e receive.
A worthless land, must many die for one,
But true greatness acts not from fair reason,
But for the sake of the mind when honor is won.
And has Someone granted the reasoning mind,
For man to hesitate so cowardly inside,
For thy deed to act, must we rid the mind bind,
And act on instinct and be not wise.
And from the reasoning state must Hamlet now leave,
for honor he shall act, and his emotions he’ll believe.

False sanity is but false no more,
For fair Ophelia’s reason be not restore.
A’now sings of thy premature stone a’foot thy father’s grave,
and the departure of Hamlet for thy wed depraved.
Claudius is but to blame for thee rotting state,
For Polonius, a proper ceremony he not awaits,
For poor Ophelia, stripped from her reasonous state,
For Laertes aback from France, by thy father’s death, irate.
And Laertes enters, with thy support for king,
For the murderer, vengeful death shall he bring,
So Claudius to Laertes, says he is not to blame,
but thy father’s murderer is but another name.
And enters Ophelia, with figurative flowers to give,
But those of Faithfulness have ceased to live.
Alive are but for Thoughts, for Remembrance,
for Adultery, for Repentance, and for False Romance.
For his sister’s sanity is but another to blame,
Laertes, a vengeance mind, is but now aflame.

Horatio, a letter from Hamlet he receives,
that upon a Pirate ship has Hamlet board,
And that shall with speed would’st fly a’breathe.
Meet to hear the story Hamlet has a’stored.

Claudius to Laertes, he speak of innocence,
for by public appearance, the truth may bent,
For the public count loves Hamlet so,
And to thy fair Mother, Claudius a’beau.
Thy noble father lost and sister insane,
The murderous filth of Hamlet is to blame.
At this, a loyal messenger approaches,
to deliver the news that but Hamlet reproached,
An English death did Hamlet face not,
For now his destined death are they to plot,
Naked and alone, will he return to Denmark a’learn,
Of the honorable fence-match, he shall earn,
Against Laertes, whose fatherly love nor illusion,
Shall the death of Hamlet draw conclusion.
Even a’church will Hamlet, Laertes slay,
Death by no bounds, must Hamlet pay.
Envenomed rapier and wine shall prepare,
the faithful death of murderous Hamlet a’near.
Gertrude then enters with Ophelia’s news a’share,
For sorrows comes not in singles but in greater pairs,
Upon muddy death has Ophelia drowned,
for now another death has but profound,

Two Gravediggers upon one grave they create,
for to the death of thy Graveowner do they relate,
To die by self slaughter or to die by not,
the attention of passing Hamlet have they caught.
With Hamlet does one of thee two chat,
for once a woman, shall this grave be buried at,
A quick digger for Hamlet to his surprise,
Revealed that to England is mad Hamlet to advise.
For a corpse to live for eight or nine,
Thy dearest Yorick’s skull is to find,
Thy a corpse to date three and twenty,
Leaves Hamlet to recall thy memories a’plenty,
And to think Alexander, o’buried alike.
Here comes the King, Laertes and the Queen,
And upon the burial grounds is Ophelia seen,
His dearest sister does Laertes mourn,
But to Hamlet, her death, his heart a’torn.
Laertes to Hamlet, must’e not compare,
the death of one is a little more foul than fair,
For forty thousand brothers can sum not his love,
For the death of the fairest maiden beloved.
Claudius to Laertes, must Hamlet pay thy debt,
the plot of night prior shall’st not forget.

Hamlet to Horatio, does his truths trust,
Of thy wretched King and his unjust,
Of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern English death they meet,
With sacrifice and thy seal was thou to spare self defeat.
Now’st Osric enters to Hamlet a’chat,
For’st not hot, nor cold, nor sultry at.
And a’wish to court, with thy Laertes of excellence,
For Hamlet’s head does thee King expense.
With six French rapiers and poniards assign,
For by fate’s determination, shall this court incline,
For a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,
Can we do not, but abide by fate a’follow.
Trumpets and drums, now’st the fence begins,
For Hamlet and Laertes hand and hand therein.
Pardon he begs, Hamlet to thy brother,
For in him is but foil Hamlet yet another,
And so they fence for honor and fence for life,
Two of two leads Hamlet the strife.
The King, to Hamlet he drinks,
Tis pearl shall he the cup he sinks,
And unwounded for two, Hamlet prevails,
But Queen, the dearest Mother, so faithfully frail,
For she drinks thy cup of heavenly pearl,
For heavenly it be not, as thy malicious plot unfurl,
The cup! The cup! A poisonous potion,
Cause yet another by venomous commotion.
A distracting cause, for Hamlet to bear,
For Laertes envenomed blade must’e beware,
Now envenomed blood shall Hamlet shed,
Shall he hold thy rapier of Laertes instead,
to shed thy venomous blood of thy venomous mind,
For now thy murderous plot shall unwind,
At the honorable death of brother Laertes,
Shall the death of Claudius be a’seized.
The King’s to blame for the death of all,
And tis day shall he see his destined fall.
With thy venomous blade held a’hand,
Let the doors be locked and the evils banned,
For Hamlet wounds thy treacherous soul,
And shall horrid Claudius pay his destined toll,
For Hamlet forces to drink thy murderous potion,
And shall he too die of venomous commotion.
The death of four and tis ****** scene,
Shall Horatio tell to those unseen.
Shall he speak of murderous truths embark,
for Fortinbras shall now throne Denmark,
For in Fortinbras does his admiration lay,
For does Hamlet trust thou’st fiery ambitious way,
And tis now concludes thy Hamlet’s life,
For death and death thou’st all alike...
A dedication and summary of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" the tragedy of the witty prince of Denmark written in 2011 for a class journal assignment.
betterdays Apr 2017
this cup of tea before me is
fragrant grace, in liquid form
moments of thought, betwixt moments of action
the license to gather wool
to ponder questions both big and small

this cup of tea holds
memories, lists, dreams,
to much sugar
the work of may hands
ties that bind, to family
to friends and associates
ribbonroads of love that lead
back to those who have gone before
the drip ends of soggy biscuits
strength to carry on...
the calm within the storm

this simple cup of tea can
make a sad day bearable
a long meeting acceptable
a car ride an adventure
a picnic delightful
a long night, shorter
an awkward conversation easier
a bad cake more palatable
a good cake exquisite
a stolen moment precious

this cup of tea
made from leaf tips,
water and heat
is but a simple tisane
that can help cure
a multitude of  ills
this cup of tea
is humble but mighty

this cup of tea
is exactly  what
I needed right now...

— The End —