"eatery" poems
There ain't nothing backwoods
about this place,
I just heard Sublime blaring
at the local BBQ eatery.
Love is all they got
& that placing was jamming.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Dear my lovely soon to be,
you were sitting at the cafe when I saw you.
sitting in the corner, with your music playing.
keeping quietly to yourself, thinking.
I did not mean to stare, but what can I say,
you caught my eye.
an elderly couple walked in, the bells chimed,
their time telling aged hands intertwined.
it made me smile.
knowing that love can last.
He ordered his coffee black, no sugar.
She ordered her tea, milk, two sugars.
He nudged Her jokingly and said,
" Don't worry sweetie, I got it this time."
as if He had not paid for Her every
other time throughout their long life together.
they searched the small eatery
only to find that all seats were taken.
at that moment you looked up ,
and without thought, gathered your things.
you directed the couple to where you were sitting,
told them it was rightfully theirs.
He shook your hand as if you were old friends.
you turned to walk away, and met my smiling eyes,
along with my now rosy blushed face.
not knowing what to do I turned away
thinking how I could let you catch me staring.
looking up hoping you were gone,
but secretly wishing you stayed,
there you were, unexpectedly.
you smiled, sat down, reached across the table
took my hand, and said,
" Hello, I'm Brian.
I couldn't help but notice you looking,
but don't worry, I only noticed
because I was looking, too."
With all the love in my heart,
yours now and forever..
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 2:13 AM UTC
Ahh-he-che'em ack-ahem. Sorry, let me clear my throat.
One day I set out galavanting, looking for a high.
I meandered to the ocean shore and set a lively stride.
My eyes were wet, my heart was light as I looked out at the splendor,
About that time I heard a rumble, a sudden yearning for a chicken tender.
I galloped to an eatery in hopes of a hearty meal,
But had a measly handful of coins, so I opted for a deal.
The only place I found tat would accept my sum of coins
For anything sufficient enough to satisfy my *****
Was a gritty place called Taco Bell, but it was my only choice.
The cashier was a voluptuous dame and my trousers became quite moist.
She said to me, "what will you have?", in a shockingly low-pitched voice.
I was taken aback for a moment, but stuttered, "a number six, I think".
"Comin' right up honey", he or she said with a wink.
I just smiled shyly and went to go fill up my drink.
My food was finally ready, but I was a bit wary,
I could't tell what was in my taco - squirrel, beef or canary.
My hunger pushed me through my fear and I finally took a bite,
Although skeptical at first, my taste buds did delight!
I had finally finished with my meal and was satisfied and full,
But down below my abdomen I felt a mighty pull.
I had no time I knew at once and dashed to find relief.
The single men's room was in sight, but who should be a thief?!
The cashier with the arousing bosoms had stolen my salvation...
As I stood there in that Taco Bell I felt a curious sensation.
When normally I could have held it, a complete bowel prostration.
While the **** was pouring out like a broken sink,
My mind started to wander and I couldn't help but think,
*If the women's room is out of order, I wonder which she/he has,
A set of both, a meat-locker or a **** and nads?*
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
I am surrounded by empty booths
& four sides clothed in beige,
highlighted by hanging globe- lanterns casting a serene aura.
The swing of the kitchen door
greets me, the lone patron
who has placed his order
for miso soup &
white sticky rice.
My placemat educates
me about the zodiac &
I can almost hear the
creaking of the bamboo
painted on the walls,
it leaves me
feeling nice
inside.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Says the owner of the roadside eatery
For each day of work you’ll be paid fifty
But more could be your take home keep
If you serve them well earn their tips.
Your polite bow a courteous smile
Showing you care all the while
Helping them to feel quite at home
Could get your pocket extra income.
Treat them well if you treat them must
Wear a face that breeds their trust
Will do you good if you are sweet
Help them pick the best to eat.
Fifty rupees will be your day’s salary
But dimes in dozens would pour freely
When you don’t just serve them food and water
But present yourself as a caring waiter.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
First impression, first date.
You come late, a major sin in your own lexicon,
tango dancing redesigns your hair to curls atwitter,
despite remedial ministrations in taxi,
you text apologies profuse en route,
but you have been outed, and
I am charmingly amused
A warm December eve,
a local Italian eatery,
table by the window,
red wine floes melt your defenses,
allowances made, you're intrigued,
enjoying our dinner of
charming amusements
But really you like my understated swagger.
I like that you like my understated swagger.
Walk home armed, arm in arm,
your paintings I must come see,
Immediately (!),
You offered this as desert, instead of biscotti,
a tour of your new apartment, sleek/simple,
messaging that this is me,
if you ever want to be invited to stay
Inspection over, my smile is a knowing
that this first foray deserves a concessionary accolade,
So in a mode so gallant at the front door,
Adieu you are bid, and devilishly clever,
I merely shake you hand,
leaving you delighted by this gallant, modern,
charming amusement
Looking at my watch, three and half hours
have passed.
Maintaing that in your ways set,
Early on, I challenge your rigidity,
Turning your hair from curly,
Into spun straight Rapunzel gold liquidity,
By asking politely, humbly, on bended knee,
You give in happily,
Charmed, amused at my ferocious insistence
Looking at my watch,
I too, am delighted, charmed, amused, to discover,
It seems my watch is running slow,
For it is now three and a half years later
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
She speaks five languages
& works her *** off
in an eatery
buttering croissants.
A single mom of three,
she still has the spirit to
smile like a summer sun.
What a pretty sight,
there's no wallowing in
the mire for this waitress,
she's still got fire
& no time for ********
'cause she's making it happen
on her own terms.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
I haven't really laughed since 2009
He said,
He then divulged his struggles
As I did mine
We spoke of the mutual regret about not keeping in touch
But with conflicting schedules, relocations and studies
It is comprehensible we veered in opposite directions and lost contact
My estranged bestfriend
We reminiscenced about the time when we were school kids
In stiff shirts, massive floppy hats
And giant blazers we practically drowned in
How eager we were to go home
When the siren went off at 3:05pm
The shanenigans at the pavilion
In sixth form
When we were the lords of the academy
A strong grip on my giant mug as if it were the holy grail
Stirring my something that ends with cinno
Huddled in the corner of a cozy eatery
In his company once again
it felt as though I had arrived home where fire burns incessantly in the fire place
On a winter's night
With a soft blanket over my shoulders
We laughed about my truancy
And how he got kicked out of the ruby team on account of his rather lanky physique
He imitated our biology teacher and tears flowed down my cheeks
That kind of laughter
You feel in your core
And your whole body shakes
So captivated by the various discussions
We both forgot to sip on our steaming beverages
He narrated a few short stories about the events
that have taken place since we last conversed
I in turn narrated mine or lack thereof
He emphatically tilted his head to the side
God, I had missed those gestures of his
It all came flooding back
His mannerisms
The way he moves his hands when he speaks as if he is trying to literally hold the conversation
For what seemed like a lifetime Before saying goodbye
Dead-eyed
We stared into each other's eyes
Almost as if to telepathically say
Do you remember the time
When we were so alive.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
Lately when you’ve looked at the Facebook chat bar, you’ve noticed names that you haven’t spoken to in a long time.
As if Facebook knows what has happened and is saying “Look! Other people exist in the world! You had a past before all of this.”
Too soon, Facebook.
Even memories excluding him somehow manage to involve him all the same.
You spent 5 years in Toronto, and only at the tail end did you two learn each other and find a love that was ******* brilliant.
And now Toronto is a landmine.
U of T is tarnished and bleak.
The ROM, the TTC,
Every quaint and adorable breakfast cafe, Mexican eatery, Starbucks.
Tragic.
And **** Queen’s Park.
And **** High Park.
**** dog parks too because maybe at some point you walked past one together.
And the bookstore.
Never again.
You loved that bookstore
(it brought you him).
And death to bubble tea, and 0 calorie vitamin water.
(No one should ever experience the misfortune of 0 calorie vitamin water, but it’s a memory, so it hurts).
And **** board game cafes. Even though the only game you actually managed to finish was Jenga.
But that’s because you were falling for him and you would rather talk for hours than look away from his face to read too-long instructions.
Catan could wait.
A different world ago you suffered in a city too congested for the likes of your small-town spirit.
And somehow you found life there.
Would have gone back there.
And he will never know.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 2:24 AM UTC
rest of title...Parkland, Fla.,February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth he nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth bring peaceful rest
sans, those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
The ice cold chocolate milkshake and the longstanding dichotomy of poet philosopher , musician and painter
Socrates would make a point as to it's rightful owner , questioning whether or not it was even a cold , sweet drink
Dylan would make it the focal point of a tune about a small town eatery
Picasso would paint a story of deliciousness mired in loneliness
Randolph would pick it up with both hands and gulp it down
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
I.
On the surface easily gliding,
are my hands. I keep on the table
an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
whose face I can almost touch.
When let go of closure, air thins and I move
secretly with fluency. This is how objects
escape my grip.
II.
In front of the eatery, a transit.
I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
The face next to me, disquieting the music
of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
another throng of absence. As a substitute
for beings shackled to duty,
the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
the wind through opened windows.
III.
Define space as a venue for collision.
Say when a red-haired woman straddling
a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
She ascribes her presence to my footing
and from where she left off, I take form
of her expired movement.
Found strangeness is that space
is what happens when remembered. But hold no
bearing and rear contrivance,
trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
the in-betweenness and then transmutes
an occurence,
say the volatile shape of a hand when
clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
reticence of a troubling question.
IV.
A man carries a take away and is now
amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
housing a familiar language. Home.
But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
trying to transact a being angled towards home.
They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
Air once stale, is now succulent with the
resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
of times the vehicle trundles within
the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
with rest. He is home,
unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
freed from a vitrine.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
I haven't been out to dinner for quite sometime
and an Asian tasting meal would have me happy of rhyme
this Saturday I shall dine at a Chinese eatery
and this is the meal which will be served to me
The First Course...
4 mini spring rolls will do nicely for the entree course
they shall be bought to the table with some dipping sauce
The Second Course...
steamed duck and mushrooms and soft noodles
this will be a perfect kit and caboodle
The Desert...
a fried ice cream ball with banana I'll savor
it will be jam packed with lots of flavor
To Top The Meal Off
piping hot green tea
garnished with a little honey
I've made a booking at the restaurant at last
twill be nice to partake of a delicious Chinese repast
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
I gave a sixpence to a hungry vagabond and walked along my way
The Sky Was Smiling and Lit up My Path
A song in my head silenced the din of the day and moved me to grin
"How to Save a Life"
A young girl who smelled like bubblegum walked close to her father
LOOK daddy!!! A rainbow!
The morning rain created a beautiful sight and the young one was blessed by it.
A rainbow.....
Further along the city street I moved on, smells of the eatery's near aroused my pallet.
Wine and Pasta....
No One stopped to chat noticed me not but STILL I am Blessed by them
A Fly on the wall
The Park was green and a couple sat kissing and laughing on a bench
True Love forever!
I sat at the edge of a pond took off my shoes and put my feet in the water
I can Breathe!
My soul slipped out of me and went back to heaven
Angels Carried me back home
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Parkland, Fla. February 14, 2018
One more senseless mass homicide
twas the sole arbitrary aim
as a former student nonchalantly
sauntered empty hallways
seconds preceding blame
brazenly intent to maximize total killed
matter of factly telling police
(his incomprehensible)
(ill) logic he did explain
when cornered, he willingly,
unflinchingly, reticently admitted guilt
Nikolas Cruz rocketed
to instantaneous infamous fame
pulling a fire alarm
("FAKE") emergency,
then going leisurely ambling
along his killing spree
total of seventeen slain (comprising 3 faculty
and 14 students)
mercilessly gunned down
as if they were wild game
when handcuffed, an innocuous
19 year old did readily admit
emptying one firearm after another
at a fairly rapid clip
then at some predestined
or spurious moment didst dip
and dive out amidst
the chaotic madding crowd
before reality flopped then did flip
as lower teeth nervously bit upper lip
made feeble getaway
at a nearby eatery casually flirted
with cashier and made no move to flit
upon his seizure as cornered prey
subsequently large tract
massively cordoned off
strong arm of the law
slightly halting in speech
detailed his gambit
deliberately staking
a stance to maximize hit
and once again afflicted parents lit
up with rancor and rage pit
toughly battling sorrow
which will not quit
til death doth
those grieving family visit.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
We were (Leong, Peter, Anna and I) eating at a popular Italian eatery (outdoors) and the check arrived - I swooped across the table and grabbed the check from the waiter. Peter whispers, “You can’t pay for everything the entire weekend.” “Why not?” I say, “It makes me happy.” “There’s no reason to,” he says. “I need a REASON??” I snort, which always makes Leong laugh. “Have you MET me?” I say, shaking my head dubiously. “I’ve met you,” he pronounces, “and you’re a NUT.“ “Thank you,” he says, indicating the check exasperatedly.
Peter’s transfinancial: a rich man trapped in a poor man’s body. He has taste but he exists on a grant and a meager stipend. We’re just friends but I’m holding a bag and he’s not. Besides, he needs a new laptop - badly - and shouldn’t be squandering his grips on me.
Greek-life is on the rise. Maybe it's because those groups offer planned social events or because, with COVID winding down (covid smovid) there’s more going on. There’s a pressure here - to be your most authentic self - to be top academically, socially - to have your calendar filled out. There’s a frantic nature to it. I’m being lowkey rushed for a fraternity (for next year) but I love my roommate situation and I think I’d druther stick with this set I love.
Which begs the question about social time. Should it be methodical, relentless, super planned out? Super planned interactions can seem transactional and not easy going and natural. College social life is so different from high school. College life is so much more charged in every way. The range of people you meet, the broader perspectives, the available options for activities.
I find myself in a search for balance. Private time vs social time. Before covid, you’d go to school and then you’d come home to your room, where you could just hang out. It was a self care place.
At university, a dorm room is less of a “home” where you can be alone and spend that healing time. You never know who's going to be in your living room and what they’re up to. I get claustrophobic when my door is closed so I rely a lot on noise-canceling technology.
A dorm room can seem like those covid lockdown days - there’s little or no separation between academic and private space. I’m just unpacking some thoughts. shrug
Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 10:21 AM UTC
R iver of silver blues, like a catch I found you, all the way here.
O h, how perfect your personality & painting,
- but how shortly & beautifully, you appeared.
M emories after memories, from cruise ships to eatery,
A nd like a good scenery, I remember your paintings,
N ever, have I felt so smitten by the accidents of life, but
A lso said so well, like a graven image of time,
- "These are why moments are made so precious & divine."
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 3:08 PM UTC
I’ll wager,
if not for thee, I might not have set foot in Alsager,
it could have become another stop I passed through on the train,
in summer sun, or winter rain,
I’d have perhaps thought
“oh this seems a sweet area to reside”
and then forgot all about it and enjoyed the rest of the rail ride,
just a picturesque town of travelled through myth
like Newton Dale Halt or Chapel-en-le-Frith.
I may never have known the names of it’s streets
or what it’s parks are called or where’s a cool place to meet,
never found out where’s a good bang for buck eatery to dine
or which shop has the best deals on two bottles of wine,
never known what it’s like to approach one of it’s doors
and in my tummy feel wings and a soar.
As it is Alsager’s now up there with my most favourite station
I step on to it’s platform with gleeful anticipation,
knowing in 15 mins we’ll be beginning our start,
thank you for Haze for putting this place in my heart.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Open for breakfast and lunch,
It closes every day at two
Perfect for the working folk
In this factory-life milieu.
So, every day, I made sure
To be right there on my stool.
Those people could cook eggs.
I know how to shop, I’m no fool.
Now, let me assure you all before
You knock them down a few pegs,
Not every eatery in the world
Knows how to cook decent eggs.
But that rangy old cook did
And the hash browns were great.
This place knew what to do
And performed it all at first rate.
There was deliciously brewed coffee
And wonderful Danish to be had
And like everything I ate there
Nobody could call anything bad.
They did a cinnamon roll, with butter
And they warmed it on the hot grill
And, while I am not easy about food
That gave me an oralgasmic thrill.
And the people were just people
Nobody there had a bad attitude;
They greeted people like family
And showed their great gratitude.
They told us they were glad
We didn’t rely on the coffee truck.
I can say it better right up front.
Their success was not due to luck.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
I haven't really laughed since 2009
He said,
He then divulged his struggles
As did I
We spoke of the mutual regret about not keeping in touch
But with conflicting schedules, relocations and studies
It is comprehensible we veered in opposite directions and lost contact
My estranged bestfriend
We reminiscenced about the time when we were school kids
In stiff shirts, massive floppy hats
And giant blazers we practically drowned in
How eager we were to go home
When the siren went off at 3:05pm
The shanenigans at the pavilion
In sixth form
When we were the lords of the academy
A strong grip on my giant mug as if it were the holy grail
Huddled in the corner of a cozy eatery
In his company once again
it felt as though I had arrived home where fire burns incessantly in the fire place
On a winter's night
We laughed about my truancy
And how he got kicked out of the rugby team on account of his rather lanky physique
He imitated our biology teacher and tears flowed down my cheeks
That kind of laughter
You feel in your core
And your whole body shakes
So captivated by the various discussions
We both forgot to sip on our steaming beverages
He narrated a few short stories about the events
that have taken place since we last conversed
I in turn narrated mine or lack thereof
He emphatically tilted his head to the side
God, I had missed those gestures of his
It all came flooding back
His mannerisms
The way he moves his hands when he speaks as if he is trying to literally hold the conversation
For what seemed like a lifetime
Before saying goodbye
Dead-eyed
We stared into each other's eyes
Almost as if to telepathically say
Do you remember the time
When we were so alive.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
Birthday
A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who
has to pay to be published how pathetic is that?
We, my companion and I found a restaurant and
for lunch she ate something African.
I had a schnitzel that looked as the white meat of
a rat that had taken the pledge lost my appetite.
Instead, I had a double portion of fresh cut salad
followed by a tomato salad with a bit of mozzarella.
I lifted my glass of water saw the eatery through
tears not shed, the few friends I had in Algarve
have all gone they could not stop in time.
The conversations, wit and bottles of red wine
kept flowing, it had to stop so I took the bus home.
Now it is only my beloved and I left and every year
I love her more. At night with a heart full of dread
I snuggle up to her, she strokes my somnolent head
until I fall asleep again and sadness drifts away.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
I took a walk today with the baby at a historical site. I stopped at the eatery and pictured you right across from me. I started to wonder if you would like it here and the food I ordered. Usually every day I think "haha your *** is in jail" but today I realized that it's been pretty lonely without you. We used to travel together all time and see places and you probably don't even acknowledge what you left behind.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
Hey! Play it really low
War in control, when we were young
And now we are old, the chrome guns
Are the same as the charming wine of the nuns
The metaphysics of the majestic soul
Is just an entitlement, it's strong in this one
She says "I deserve this." unable to hide her inadequacies
And reservations about presidential fools, like the rogue agents
Like me and fela grupi, till the clocks run out
The guns come out in the Brixton Sun
Time for gun control, like the paper planes
That fly like the paper dreams
The taste of thin rhymes that you had your singles on
Singularity, I interest your plural discretionary warning
I have been given many caveats by the ladies at the Taco Bell
The eatery still welcomes the immigrants, like the American Government
I felt better about changing my mind, regarding the tall sights
And the people digging ditches and splitting the bleeding cigarettes and marijuana bills
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 6:52 PM UTC
It was Donna Darling’s annual dinner party
A Cotillion approved eatery
Six spoons and six forks
The wrong one, and all the glares one bore
And then waddled in Miss Pillsbury
Her stumpy feet too short to
Do anything but waddle
Uninvited she was
As she always was
Squelching her way
through the narrow doorway.
As fourteen perfectly styled heads
Shuffled their feet under the table.
Boom! Clash!
Six spoons crashing
Six forks attacking
Poor old lady Judith’s knee
As she groaned in pain.
Donna scratching her head
Eyes darting through her invite list
Top-to-bottom, Top-to-bottom
Screech! Went the chair,
Scratching Donnas hand polished marble floors
Like nails on a chalkboard.
Oh, and what she did next,
Almost sent Donna to her upstairs bedroom
To pop some unprescribed ******
As the stout woman grabbed soup
with her chubby hands
And started gulping it down
Before it ran through her fingers.
Frazzled Donna tried, oh she tried
To salvage the integrity
Of her fancy dinner party
Unfortunately, at the moment
it was running down the table
From Miss Pillsbury’s double chin.
Swooosh! Went old lady Judith
As she skated across the marble
Like an Olympic figure skater
Only to crash into Donna’s perfectly organized
stainless steel kitchenware.
Donna ran out screaming and crying
Nobody’s seen her since.
And as for Miss Pillsbury,
I’d be surprised if she noticed any of it
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC