"diced" poems
Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.
The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.
The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.
Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.
Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.
She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.
When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.
28.3k
Feel empty in your post apocalyptic City of Angels,
Where not even your pets are real!
An electric android, a sheep or a frog,
The whir-flutter of micro-electrical wings of a butterfly.
Good, and so you ought.
Now grab the handles of your empathy box,
And in a shared virtual hallucination –
Feel: empathy, depression, pain, delusion and despair,
The outré myriad gifts of consciousness.
Billions of discombobulated and disconnected wrecks:
Adam's sons; Eve's daughters,
And among them simulations too,
Fakes! androids!
A phony circuit of implanted semi-conscious memories,
A hive of neural malaise!
Welcome to our world;
know how dead inside I am.
You, yes, you:
Need a pet to make you more complete?
Maybe you can afford
A Fake Fakir Flake like me who looks like Jude Law,
Sounds like Richard Burton,
And silently romances you like Rudolph Valentino.
Come and stick what’s left of your mind,
In here,
In hair,
Hear her:
har, har, har…
A box of lies...
A voice, Mercer's,
With texture from an age you neither lived in nor dared in:
Al Jerry's, a TV actor,
Droning on in pre-selected tones.
The real thing, the men, the women, the children - their animals -
Made in the wild, wild desert,
In the green pulsing savannah,
On the open crusted sea;
Now too, washed, choked, and drained,
Too many spliced and diced mutations,
Iterating your image:
The thing that was my heart,
My Child, now its imitation.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
satisfying, slightly sweet
an orange spindle shape
something enjoyable to eat
very good for your health
crunchy in every bite
yet full of robust wealth
to improve your eyesight
with a hard and rough texture
it's green bloomed leafy top
helps balance out its flavor
such a great nutrient to savor
diced, grated, wild or raw
shredded even sliced when fresh
in any cookbook there are so may
ways to prepare this delicious and
enjoyable golden orange vegetable
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
#
*Breathtaking beauties, they all are..
Ha.. but They'll cut your fuckin' heart out
if you ever turn to face them
Yet even with this slice-n' diced
brokendown, blood-pump
I can still.. so very much, swear
that every single one of those gorgeous
little sunsabitches,*
***were sent, directly to me
by the very hand of God***
#
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 8:28 PM UTC
The Peppered Pickle Clown
(Peppered Pickle Day)
This is a story you may not know
And it's banned in pickle town
It's about a peppered pickle
That became a circus clown
He started out his short life
Looking through a stained glass jar
Watching his sweet pickled brother
Become a kosher star
Although his peppered pickled life was sweet
This peppered pickle wanted more
He would join the circus as a clown
And be a smash that fans adored
At first it started slowly
No fans would call his name
But a peppered pickle as a clown
Well thats funny just the same
As time went on he made them laugh
They started yelling for him more
Then a show was given just to him
And a peppered pickle day was born
All the fans they ordered pickles
On peppered pickles they would gorge
Then one day there came a time
When peppered pickles they ran short
The peppered pickle clown knew right then
That it was time to make his mark
So he made a deal with Vlasic corp.
To put peppered pickles in their jars
Well Vlasic corp. invited him
To come take a private tour
They said that he would relish it
And be a cut up in the stores
They put the peppered pickle clown
In a clown chair and tied him down
They said it was for safety
As the belt showed him all around
The belt went slow when starting out
Picked up speed as it went along
The peppered pickle clown was sliced and diced
Vlasic didn't clown around
So remember the peppered pickle clown
When you shop at your home store
He gave his life for stardom
And thats why you now pay more
Today is peppered pickle day
And should be known the world around
Made famous by a sweet delight
The peppered pickle clown
Carl J. Roberts
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Chop. Chop. Chop.
The colors of the pepper
scatter on woodgrain.
They sit next to the diced onion
that I cut blind-
Chop
with my face turned to the door.
Those are next to the once big trees of broccoli-
Chop
now small flowers,
and there's a potent pile of garlic-
Chop
ready to be thrown into a shallow pit of heat-
the olive oil is sizzling.
Stop.
Listen to sound of produce.
Go!
Don't let the smoke rise too far-
the noses will come visit
and take your dinner away.
That's okay...
I wasn't hungry anyway.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
.
1 can diced
mangos, drained•
1 can diced tomato
es, drained • 1\4 cup
diced red onion •
1\4 cup chopped
fresh cilantro or
mint• 1\2 jalapeñ
o, seeded and fin
ely chopped or 2
tbsp. canned dice
d jalapeño. • 2 tb.
p. fresh lime or
lemon juice ****
stir together all ingredients
in medium bowl Serve as a dip with
tortilla or pita ch ips or as a topping
for quesadillas or grilled chicken
fish or pork ****
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
Shoe fries, JoJos
Scalloped potatoes, Mashed potatoes
Baked potatoes, Hashbrowns, Tatertots
Latkas, Potato soup, French fries, Home fries
Diced potatoes, Potato chips, Curly fries
Potato pies, Riced potatoes, Spudnuts
Potato salad, Poutine
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
this is the first time i ate
a watermelon, like i did today...
it's going way back
back to the times we
were apparently apes...
so there's this gorilla
sitting on a windowsill,
with diced watermelon pulp...
oh wait, what's in his bowl?
the outer-layer,
including the hard skin
of the watermelon...
you're ********
he's eating that too?
what, ever see a gorilla
peel a banana to get a
babushka jew-head out
from the outer layer?
(insinuating circumcision)
gorilla eats the whole thing!
and he's sitting there,
insinuating: fibre...
excess chewing,
keeps the dentist away...
so between chewing on the outer
layer of the watermelon
(including the hard skin) -
he drops pieces of diced watermelon
pulp into his gob, to water
the chewing dynamic...
what? you do it with apples
and pears, and cherries, and grapes...
the gorilla says:
fun experience...
intermission of a gulp of beer...
it's hard to imagine a gorilla
being the size that he is,
having the cullinary skills
of saying: oi! oi!
don't fry that plantain!
eat it raw!
half an hour it took him to chew
through the red pulp and the outer
layer...
and he thought:
**** as painful on the jaws
as i might have chewed a gum
for 2 hours.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
There are metallic, life-like statues of human figures scattered through my city, often on park benches. You must look twice the first time you spot them, and sometimes, each time, as they are so nat-ural, that they fool the retina image of man.
The traffic light,
red to green,
yet my limbs,
froze fruit solid,
release catch stuck,
unflippable,
somehow plastic freezes,
mobility skills rusted
by December's hampering
cheeky cheeks,
a seasonal reddish copper
discoloration of the extremities,
a harmony of no sensation
A comet stuck in
pedestrian neutral,
collided/jostled by
starry eyed
Fifth Avenue
street walkers and tourists.
my presence sensed,
touched, yet avoided,
unnoticed,
like streetlight,
lamppost, mailbox,
I am, a body,
at rest,
unseen
but on display
in the art gallery of
Manhattan's Lost and Found
In the section of the paper
where the
unimportant local news is
sliced n' diced
into single paragraphs,
of human interest,
tidbits, amuse bouche,
items of
major minor interest,
The New York Times
reported the discovery of an
unauthorized lifelike
bronze n' copper sculpture.
eyes of polished nickel,
heart of stained steel,
rendition of a man
so lifelike y'all do a
triple take, smile,
take a cell photo,
phone a friend
his embodiment can be found
on the rounded corner of
Columbus Circle, @59th St.,
where you enter Central Park.
upon a bench,
man clutching Sunday newspapers,
a pair of scissors,
coupons cut,
scattered at his feet.
a homely but comely,
****** expression,
one of bewilderment.
A tiny plaque on a brass plate,
at his feet,
hints of his progenitor and human origins.
Artist: Unknown,
Materials: Organic Metals
Title: A Living Finish
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
a third-pound of ground beef
and a pile of diced ramp bulbs
I laced it with steak seasoning
rolled in about a handful
ain't got no time for fancy buns
so I thought that instead
of dressing up a masterpiece
I'd put it on some bread
...and it was good
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Why the sudden alarm I ask?
Because you've eaten a horses ***
For years we've eaten all kinds of meat
Mixed with things you find in paint
A list of E numbers a sentence long
Who knew if they where doing wrong
Colouring from crushed beetles shells
Or other insects as well
Artificial raspberry sounds yum yum
Yeah it's made from beavers ***
So here's a tip to help you shop
Look under the bar code at numbers lots
This may stop you getting cross
If it starts with 5 sling it out !
Its Asian chicken bleached and vile
From roadside **** or any source
boiled in salt of course
So we now protest at a bit of horse
Years to late we've eaten worse.
On holiday you eat bulls *****
Your hotdogs could be his other smalls!
Sweetbreads eyeballs hooves the lot
So diced, reclaimed or added in
You've no idea what's gone in
Mad cow mad horse or confused pig
I wonder if I've eaten each
The veggie options just as bad
With GM foods Monsanto's bag
MSG enhancers to to stop the food from tasting goo
So wine or beer for me tonight
As foods now a depressing sight
Bacon butty anyone?
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
I am the sort
whose love will perch
cross-legged
on a kitchen counter top and
watch
the snake-tongue sizzle
of my heart
diced and flying
in your un-greased
frying
pan while you so innocently
sautee
the thick skin of what could
once have made you
cry
and run so easily
and only then will you look up
as if to say
"are you up for a little stir
fry
tonight?"
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
Twelve days on the isthmus,
trudging through the gap,
we sliced & diced
vines along the trail,
through a world all its own.
Iguanas & butterflies
accompanied us,
along with the tarantulas,
toucans & monkeys.
Everything was in tune,
nature at its finest.
But the bearded-dudes
we encountered
seeemed way out of place,
different from the nature
that was around us.
They were unusually
focused, out of touch
with their long line
of saddlebagged-mulas
& fully-packed mochilas.
The automatic weapons
& machetes finished
off the picture
of these serious hombres,
the runners of the jungle.
We traded Marlboro's
& Johnny Walker Red
for some tea & sugar
& they waved us on by,
gave us safe passage
into Colombia.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Bloodshot eyes and a case of laughter,
a Waffle House fix is what we are after.
Find a booth and all pile in,
waitress comes up and the mayhem begins.
Oh but she is a pro,
done this a time or two,
pretty soon here comes our food.
Scraping of the forks and clatter of the plates,
we look like it's been weeks since we ate.
We got scattered, chunked, covered and diced,
heartburn on a plate and don't even think twice.
Well no more thumping head and eyes cleared up a bit,
all we needed was a Waffle House fix!
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC
“Quite a piece this doesn’t come along every day”He was tapped into her forever mores or heretofore reservoirs of passion.The creme de la creme her pursed mouth prim. She couldn’t wait to lick him higher watering his rim. But after he breaststroked with her he has taken a bite fresh ****** fruit she broke. He spends all his time extolling her virtues, what’s left the first virtue ****** painting feast. For his eyes *** all day. Planting her nest.Lay Lady lay. He made this avocado melting pot-her fondue smelling hot what’s next to pursue such charm. His ears pierced like a fire alarm. blazing the fireplace. Her blush deepened like she was diced. To the ******** Asking for so much more.You were wearing your erotically to die for **** me shoes.He was the Hollywood ******* I was going to *** crave you knock you down.
Like the colonel of **** mustard spicy so **** hot.His hair deep brown. He lengthened got bigger what a shot. How the carpet just spread me to bounce my buttocks.She tried so hard to lay everything out from his bowl his manly sword like a dual. He steamed out like Maddocks Taurus bedroom eyes of the bull. So much to roll her feet heated so penetrated him to the floor.The rain was heavy and thick dripping with your creamy avocado puddle
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
*It stood on a throne,
Made out of lime stone.
It was clothed,
In colorless gold.
It wore a shadeless crown,
Above its brow.
Its heart was frozen-
From winters night.
Its soul was diced,
by Jack Frost's knife.
It stood alone,
In its quite abyss.
Dismissing my stare.
Though it was free,
It looked lost at sea.
For, I waited to hear a plea,
But it was silent as a willow tree.
Time passed-
And it started to bow
To the brown earth beneath its feet,
To the blue sky above its crown.
Though, the journey was over,
And the final Goodbyes were made.
I could never forget the pride in its eyes,
Or why it stood so still.
For to this day,
I question if I'll every discover,
If the White Rose knew,
Of its wonder?*
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
You three believe in creating scarcity,
NOT union.
You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars,
caring less how efficient they are.
They roll royce cross your game board,
fuming trails of money.
Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue,
you bought all the properties.
Now tenants can't avoid
the traffic or the noise
of an internet rolled in palms
and diced
spiraling
to speed limits
...
...
...
...
and red highways
...
...
...
...
and orange traffic cones that
block hybrid cars,
already swerving
to avoid bankruptcy.
We
STOP
the
STOP
people
STOP
moving,
our preamble crumbles to a
STOP,
becoming a eulogy —
an ideal dumb to power trippery,
after Time Warner and Comcast merged,
allies on opposite sides of the game board.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
together you own pretty much
everyone but Fox and Disney,
(yet have invested in them heavily).
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
your oligarchy is
NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers,
and now FullScreen,
family-friendly nepotism
that inbreeds bearing
deaf drones bored of flying,
over
Why Beyonce is a Feminist.
or
Why Ferguson was racist,
media's offspring
just keep clicking,
the headline genocide victims
basking in concentrated lamps
for a sliver of attention.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
Now you want the backend buffering,
bulging eyes and emptying pockets
of those Spocked into believing,
hyperspeed was ever necessary.
No choice when the exits are slow
and there are no backroads.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;,
offspring of the
Bell Atlantic Company,
we will not let your
****** populate the internet.
Call it Capitalism,
but your playing Monopoly,
yanking the carpet underneath
to the wood of Tyranny.
You shamed
Bell's invention
by stringing together
telephone
internet,
and
entertainment companies
until you could be lazy.
Monkeys who spent millions
to shriek at government parties
about the communication machine,
a system downloaded so slowly,
we
did
not
act
on
cons
piracy
theories,
when Amazon made online shopping so easy.
Dear Internet Service Providers,
so called ISP's,
WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly.
Our collective voice
will shout blasphemy
on your streets,
hashtagged
net neutrality,
till you're counting pennies.
So empty your Washington banks
cause it's 3 a.m. and
no ONE is winning.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
After the whipping he crawled into bed,
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
How funny uncle's hat had looked striped red!
He chuckled silently. The moon came, sweeping
A black, frayed rag of tattered cloud before
In scorning; very pure and pale she seemed,
Flooding his bed with radiance. On the floor
Fat motes danced. He sobbed, closed his eyes and dreamed.
Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson light
Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave's mouth
Shone with a large, fierce splendor, wildly bright,
The crooked constellations of the South;
Here the Cross swung; and there, affronting Mars,
The Centaur stormed aside a froth of stars.
Within, great casks, like wattled aldermen,
Sighed of enormous feasts, and cloth of gold
Glowed on the walls like hot desire. Again,
Beside webbed purples from some galleon's hold,
A black chest bore the skull and bones in white
Above a scrawled "Gunpowder!" By the flames,
Decked out in crimson, gemmed with syenite,
Hailing their fellows with outrageous names,
The pirates sat and diced. Their eyes were moons.
"Doubloons!" they said. The words crashed gold. "Doubloons!"
2k
Patron: "...And can you add the diced Hamlet to that omelette?"
Waiter: "Jolly good sir, and do you know if you'll be having dessert?"
Patron: "Oh yes, I'll have a strawberry Shakespeare."
Waiter: "Brilliant, your omelette will be out before you can say 'Ides of marshmallow'."
Patron: "That was dreadful and you know it."
Waiter: "Deary me, sir."
END SCENE
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
Misgivings
taught,
fallacies
absorbed,
perceptions
formed,
lies
endorsed,
pain
enamoured,
hope
dormant,
meaning
strife,
decisions
diced,
aimlessness
concise
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:18 PM UTC
your admirers are unlimited by geography or name,
but only by imagination
~for Albert’s wife~
~~~
the tattoos on my body, a complete list
of the seven names^ shared with a heavenly human,
who pretends he has no
skin in the game
but that is a poem for another time...
you thank me for being a “follower”
unnecessary for your admirers are unlimited
by geography or name,
(and all the sliced and diced human pieces deem greater than the
whole)
we are limited only by imagination
whatever name you/I choose,
what we/me love about your poems,
flora, fauna, the human cuppa,
is that you write what your eyes feel,
yet, it is I doing the seeing
for that
I’ll follow you kicking and screaming,
I’ll be your babe in arms
~~~
^https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Names_of_God_in_Judaism
false poets
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
Take a simple packet of minced beef
Add a drop of water to the pan
Finely diced an onion and 3 chopped garlic cloves
Oh! Don't forget the fine cut celery
Now cook gently with a touch of love
Until the mince is brown
This now is the time to add just a pinch of dry mixed herbs
A liberal splash of soya sauce followed by a gentle stir
Important now please don't forget
A large pinch of marsala spice
For this will be the beating heart before you add the rice
RICE! Did I say rice?
For the amount of minced now in the ***
Cook an equal amount of rice until soft
Of course in another pan
Now just before the rice is done add mixed veg to the mince
In the other pan, frozen veg will do
Now strain the mince but save the sauce
Worth its weight in gold
Now, yes now's the time to strain the pan and add the rice
To the mince so savoury and brown
Mix the rice and mince with love until well combined
Place into a baking dish and set the oven high(160)
20 minutes will be enough so now the dish is done
Thicken the sauce you strained from the mince and bring to a gentle boil
Serve the mince/rice with new boiled potatoes and the sauce
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
We took everything off the shelf
opened each can to look inside our self
diced the onion until we had tears in our eyes
skinned the potato until the rough skin subsides
chopped the carrot so only sweetness remained;
rotten lost, flavor gained
turned the knobs to the highest setting
combined our ingredients to avoid forgetting
heated well and tried for taste
we added spices until the right ones were placed
you said you wanted a cinnamon girl
we grabbed it from the lazy Susan and gave it a whirl
it was just what we needed but we were too blind to see
I burned my tongue when you were feeding me
it still needed work but we never lost patience
we just kept trying; most things require maintenance
the finished product was reached after a while
you poured in cheese as I flashed a cornbread smile
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC