"fillet" poems
Je ne sais quoi
Yeah,
she don't got it no more.
They aborted it from her
when they sold her the
the false perfection elixir
that soul'd her out
Hook, line, and sink her
gut her,
fillet her.
Ctrl-alt-del the fetus,
the sacrifice of the inner-child.
Molested into the machinery of Moloch
He butchered
the absolute heart
of the poem of life
out of her body.
She stands naked
goddess-less
kicked into the prison pit
of existence
Now she's like everybody.
She's nobody.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
I write my shopping-list in rhyme.
It doesn’t take me too much time,
and always helps me to remember.
(I’ve been doing it since last September.)
Wholemeal bread
low-fat spread
strawberry jam
dry-cured ham
Cheddar cheese
frozen peas
free-range eggs
chicken legs
grape jelly
pork belly
lamb chops
lemon drops
fillet steak
chocolate cake
cookie mix
seafood sticks
tortilla chips
salsa dips
instant coffee
treacle toffee
dried sultanas
ripe bananas
runner beans
a bunch of greens
new potatoes
vine tomatoes
and (really urgent)
liquid detergent.
Now that I've written my shopping-list,
I hope there's nothing that I've missed.
And if you don't think much of the verse,
Consider this - it could have been worse!
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
I cannot spare water or wine,
Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose;
From the earth-poles to the Line,
All between that works or grows,
Every thing is kin of mine.
Give me agates for my meat,
Give me cantharids to eat,
From air and ocean bring me foods,
From all zones and altitudes.
From all natures, sharp and slimy,
Salt and basalt, wild and tame,
Tree, and lichen, ape, sea-lion,
Bird and reptile be my game.
Ivy for my fillet band,
Blinding dogwood in my hand,
Hemlock for my sherbet cull me,
And the prussic juice to lull me,
Swing me in the upas boughs,
Vampire-fanned, when I carouse.
Too long shut in strait and few,
Thinly dieted on dew,
I will use the world, and sift it,
To a thousand humors shift it,
As you spin a cherry.
O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry,
O all you virtues, methods, mights;
Means, appliances, delights;
Reputed wrongs, and braggart rights;
Smug routine, and things allowed;
Minorities, things under cloud!
Hither! take me, use me, fill me,
Vein and artery, though ye **** me;
God! I will not be an owl,
But sun me in the Capitol.
3.2k
'Tis not with gilded sabres
That gleam in baldricks blue,
Nor nodding plumes in caps of Fez,
Of gay and gaudy hue--
But, habited in mourning weeds,
Come marching from afar,
By four and four, the valiant men
Who fought with Aliatar.
All mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
The banner of the Phenix,
The flag that loved the sky,
That scarce the wind dared wanton with,
It flew so proud and high--
Now leaves its place in battle-field,
And sweeps the ground in grief,
The bearer drags its glorious folds
Behind the fallen chief,
As mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Brave Aliatar led forward
A hundred Moors to go
To where his brother held Motril
Against the leaguering foe.
On horseback went the gallant Moor,
That gallant band to lead;
And now his bier is at the gate,
From whence he pricked his steed.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
The knights of the Grand Master
In crowded ambush lay;
They rushed upon him where the reeds
Were thick beside the way;
They smote the valiant Aliatar,
They smote the warrior dead,
And broken, but not beaten, were
The gallant ranks he led.
Now mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Oh! what was Zayda's sorrow,
How passionate her cries!
Her lover's wounds streamed not more free
Than that poor maiden's eyes.
Say, Love--for didst thou see her tears:
Oh, no! he drew more tight
The blinding fillet o'er his lids
To spare his eyes the sight.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
Nor Zayda weeps him only,
But all that dwell between
The great Alhambra's palace walls
And springs of Albaicin.
The ladies weep the flower of knights,
The brave the bravest here;
The people weep a champion,
The Alcaydes a noble peer.
While mournfully and slowly
The afflicted warriors come,
To the deep wail of the trumpet,
And beat of muffled drum.
2.9k
When Mars attacks
I'll be in Oregon
eating saltines
and everything bagels
washed down
with orange Tang
while you're probed
anally with a green stick
the size and shape
of a bottle of Bud
in downtown Tallahassee.
After the attack
I'll go fishing
in Crater Lake
and catch twelve
rainbow trout
or kokanee salmon
and fillet them
one by one
while you limp
and buy chairs
with extra pads
and change the gauze
at the base
of your ****
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:32 PM UTC
In times of clarity, or perhaps
Moments of weakness
(Depending on one's perspective)
My greatest fear, I think,
Is that of dying without achieving
Anything worthy of mention.
The idea of being so ordinary
That your death
(or rather, your life)
Will be rapidly evaporated
from the earth's memory
Like light rain on a molten tarmac afternoon.
But you, at least on a mentally strong day,
Delude yourself with bursts of creativity:
Poetry, film, ideas of grandeur,
All of which persuade you that either
You will not die for a long time,
Or you will someday soon achieve.
This thought is comforting
And all is well.
Until one day you are having
A particularly busy teaching day,
And you rush to the usual spot
To grab a regular taste of Dublin life,
And order your chicken fillet roll:
Lifeblood of an Irish working-man's lunch,
And you eat while you walk -
Both briskly to save time before
Rejoining the rich children.
And the slobbering mouthful of
Delightful chicken baguette
Casts taco sauce from its grasp,
And dribbles down your pubey beard.
You stop and take a finger to it,
Knowing full well that the damage is
Done and that those hairs will grip
To the smell of taco sauce until
The drain tastes their defeat after
A particularly overzealous shower.
And it is in that moment,
With finger and beard stained with
The orange-tinged blood of a chicken fillet roll,
That your ordinariness and worthlessness become apparent
And it destroys you...
Because you always thought taco sauce was spicy.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
Enter: Insecure like your neighbor's router.
The girl next door vs. an identity crisis
Caught in the torment of her name
Konfusion
The Konstantine of your dreams
In a nightmare of reality
The relationship
She fell out of
To follow a polluted path
To become
A misled materialized martyr
After
He says to her,
Something misogynistic
about her role
Or what he thinks he can control
To put her in her place
She's just a pawn on his chessboard
Never a Queen he should be fighting for
Using her body as a human shield
to avenge his own shadows
Exploited.
This is their daily
He's the blade
And she's the self-harm
Tracing the anti-battlescars
Writing love on her arms
Just when the knife couldn't cut any deeper
Somewhere between
Too far
And fillet o' soul
She had enough
but didn't break
Just felt her ego pull
Broken/Free
She packed her eternal baggage
And hit the runway
Running on the emptiness inside.
Fueled by frustrations
To keep the fire burning
Before she doused herself in the elixir
A hungry ghost
purging patience
In spite of everything
Soon to be made up
And lined up for the onslaught
Led to slaughter what dignity she has left
She says, "Oh, but I'll show him now. I'm not his precious little prize"
...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and ****** in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
2.1k
Naalala ko pa yung araw na napagdesisyunan kong kumain sa McDo.
Kasi wala lang, trip ko lang.
Hindi naman ako gutom, hindi rin pagod.
Pero nag-McDo ako.
Noong panahong yun,
Saka ko lang narealize yung sinasabi nilang "Self Worth."
Pahalagahan ang sarili, mahalin.
Bagay na hindi ko nagawa sa nakaraan.
Kaya ayun, nagwakas, natuldukan.
Paano naman nga ba kasi magpapahalaga sa iba
Kung sarili ko nga di ko mapahalagahan.
Umorder na ko ng fries at Big Mac
Syempre kasama ang paborito kong McFloat.
Nasa kalagitnaan na ko ng pagnguya
Nung nagtanong ka
"May nakaupo na po ba?"
Hindi ko na tiningnan ang kanyang mukha
Umiling nalang ako.
Nagtataka rin kasi ako bat sa harap ko pa naisipan **** umupo.
Yun pala, wala na talagang pwesto sa McDo.
Binasag mo ang katahimikan sa pagpapakilala mo sa akin.
Bigla atang lumamig ng hangin
Lalo na nung nakita kong nakangiti ka sakin.
Nagkakilala tayo. Naging magkaibigan.
Ikaw ang nagsilbi kong Happy Meal
sa araw-araw na paggising ko.
Hindi ko na kailangan ng Happy Meal toy
Kasi makasama ka lang enjoy na ako.
Ikaw yung chicken fillet na
sa sobrang lambot ng pisngi mo nanggigigil ako.
Ikaw yung Hot Fudge na mas matamis pa
sa Dairy Milk kasi sobrang sweet mo.
At para kang gravy ng McDo
na hanggat di ubos yung ulam magrerefill ako.
Hanggang isang araw, inaya mo ko mag-McDo.
Masaya akong sumama kasi minsan lang yun.
Ako naman ililibre ng taong madalas ilibre ko.
Feeling ko tuloy sasagutin mo na ako.
Nagpresenta kang ikaw na o-order
At ako nang bahala sa uupuan.
Hindi ko alam bakit pagkaupo ko palang
Nakaramdam na ko ng kalungkutan.
Natakot ako bigla sa di malamang dahilan.
Buti dumating ka na, at
Buti nakangiti ka.
Ngunit ako ay nagtaka na
Ang pagkaing binili mo ay hindi para sa dalawa.
Agad **** sinabi saken na saglit lang,
May pupuntahan ka lang.
Pagkaalis mo, kinain ko na ang binili mo.
Pero nagulat ako
Matapos kong i-angat ang burger na inorder mo.
"Hindi pa pala ako handa."
Nakasulat sa sticky note na nilagay mo.
Di ko alam ano ibig **** sabihin
Kaya nagdecide akong ikaw ay hintayin.
Mahal, sabi mo saglit.
Pero bakit hindi ka na bumalik?
Iniwan mo na ako.
Iniwan mo gamit ang isang sticky note,
Kasama ang favorite kong McFloat.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
XIX
The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise;
I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
And from my poet’s forehead to my heart
Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—
As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes
The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart
The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .
The bay-crown’s shade, Beloved, I surmise,
Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!
Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,
I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,
And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;
Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack
No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.
1.8k
I'll stain my wrist cherry red,
I'll hang myself with angel hair [1]
I'll jump off a choco cliff
And smell bacon in the air.
Drown myself in sea of grease;
In lard or melted butter
Get lost in a Balck Forest,
Eat fondant rocks for dinner.
Stick Butterfinger down my throat
Until I can no longer breathe
Peel off my caramel skin
And run through a pile of wheat.
I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland
And then I will jump off the plane;
Railroad trip with Willie Wonka
Then get myself crushed by a train.
I'll put the gun on my temples,
Pull the trigger, out the whip cream
Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2]
Up in the skies you'll see our steam.
I'll grate my fingers just like cheese
And dice my arms like tomatoes;
Chop the onions, hold your tears
Mash my head like potatoes.
I'd stuff myself just like turkey
A big, fat one on Thanksgiving
I'd eat to death ruthlessly
So full that I'll be choking.
Fillet myself, eat my own meat
Or not, 'cause that would be so gross
I'll poison myself instead
A drop on my wine - let's toast!
I'd overdoze on sedatives
Each pill the size of Jellybeans
Or cross the road with closed eyes
Or live in a garbage bin.
Get under attacked by hornets
As I steal their precious honey
Huge marshmallows in my mouth
Die playing Chubby Bunny.
Ride a ship on a raging sea
Of milk or strawberry smoothie
And I'll let my boat be wrecked
Then feed a whale with cookie.
Get free popcorn with your ticket
As you watch me die, sit back
Don't stand 'til it is over,
Enjoy the show and relax.
This is what you always wanted -
See me lying on my coffin
I'll make you watch in total dread
As I **** myself with muffins.
And when I die, donut tell her -
My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth
She might slap you out of shock,
You might lose not just one tooth.
From the grave, I'll send you Kisses
My dear old Cad, bury me [3]
Give this body a Reese's [4]
From food that is it's enemy.
I have here a cake for you
Open your mouth, gently chew,
Close your eyes and hold your breath,
Savor now the taste of death.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
One Turbot says to the other "do you believe in Cod?"
The other replies " I think we each know a Sole". "I believe one day when the chips are down and we are at our most battered we will each know a Plaice and we are destined to fillet".
They exchanged a glance and swam away.... just for the Halibut.
I hope my Whiting doesn't offend. Remember believers.... believe in Cod and one day you will be Prawn again.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
Hanging her head into depths of an oubliette,
the toilet bowl grieves inside muddied ruin.
An early avocado and piles of bile simmer
inside porcelain wastelands. Her face, a dark fillet,
fat like a flea questing on skin. Fingers joust
her drawbridge mouth. Cavaliers cannot rescue.
Tiny talons scratch the back of her throat,
distant organs heaving during the battle
of the bulge. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
She tastes it twice. Flecks of spit singe cheeks
like undersink chemicals. Her imperial
belly wails, a damsel distressed.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
What I Mean When I Say Chinook Salmon
By Geffrey Davis
My father held the unspoken version of this story
along the bridge of his shoulders: This is how
we face and cast to the river — at angles.
This is how we court uncertainty. Here, he taught
patience before violence — to hold, and then
to strike. My fingers carry the stiff
memory of knots we tied to keep a 40-lb. King
from panicking into the deep current
of the stream. Back home, kneeling
at the edge of the tub with our kills, he showed
the way to fillet a King: slice into the soft
alabaster of the pectoral, study the pink-rose notes
from the Pacific, parse waste and bone from flesh. Then,
half asleep, he’d put us to bed, sometimes with kisses.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
I crave to create
But my creations miss behave
Cause they don't attiquately meet
My devotion for the week
I find a new prophet most often even when I sleep
I'm partial to the fact that humans can weep
If u express in a speech or an action
I will caption and it well dwell till it seeps
Neither aggressive nor obsessive is a quality I fancy
Yet if it were to follow then my senses would be dancing
I believe in light in the darkest places
The light is never gone as embers lie awaken
A mere glow can grow to a great fire
If the fuel forgrowth is allowed
I wonder to the worth of my actions whether creation is worth the time it's after
Not to the worth of creation. Yet the worth that I place at my feeble dedication.
My nippet at the toes of a holy saint as a catholic salmon they are about to fillet
My search for the light is not to infer it is Shinning brighter for me then you or even her
that may the case in a state or a place
Not mine I have no Devine ordination
I just search and I'm blessed with coordinations
That you'd see. If you were me and I u
Or a shrew as they do act quite rash like you do
Like at times the sun is clouded. All that can be seen is the clouds enlightened.
The promise of a storm.
Sealed on the cusp of a clouds lips
Unleashed in a fury
As to expel the the darkness
The power of a cleansing
Then again, the sky is blue
the clouds are white
the sun shines bright
No one man sees the dark sky
And fears its darkened state
As more then a chalky slate
It i only a product of the storm
As man is a product of his storm
No man is a dark sky
they just play stage to their storm.
Which all together is a topic not of the norm
Whether cold or hot
Ice or pots a nd plans
Your summer plans lay ruined
The ruins , you harbour
A product the doctors and dentists
Or mendists
Can't doctor
The clouds have all cleared the way.
To display
The destruction
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
I have something to get off my chest
It is the World's Vegetarian Day
Carrots, beans, and peas are the best
Everyone must eat this way
It will give your body vigor and zest
It will give you energy all day
I don't mean to be a righteous pest
But veggies should be eaten per say
If for you, they don't pass the test
Eat them as I did today
Next to a prime beef fillet
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
Food
Holy **** its awesome
McDonald's Chicken nuggets
I can get 20 for five dollars
Or a delicious Fish Fillet
Mmm Holla holla
I don't mind calories
They give me my curves
Have you tasted McDonald's Big Mac?
Holy ****
Or how about their sweet Tea?
Its sweetened with Crack
And that's what it is
Fast food
Its crack
I'm addicted
It gets me high on another level
Withdraws
**** that
I know I should eat better
But ****
Fried Chicken and Mashed potatoes
Hell yes
Starving yourself?
Are you ******* nuts?
you *****
Try chocolate cream pie
Vanilla Cream or whipped cream
So delicious I cream
Oh lord
I bet I sound crazy
I'm not a ******
I swear I'm not lazy
Ill continue this affair
For this food
This delicious ******* food
Will never break my heart
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
This night
my mind is a homing pigeon eager to vector notes
to and from a distant
unmet,
Unconsummated
love.
It's the message content
I struggle.
Is it love when your words fillet me open
and render me carrion
in my own dreams?
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
When you ask to be friends
I try and simply explain
That after tasting Bluefin tuna
How could I settle for a McDonald's fish fillet?
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
a slight tingle beneath the skin
let's little out and little in
as memories flood of where you've been
they will forever whisper alice
when what you knew you thought you knew
is no longer holding true
as mountain winds are passing through
on the breeze they whisper alice
*a ****** of crows are left behind*
on this the darkest of lives
they fillet the soul but leave the mind
as the beat of their wings whisper alice
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
He knew it would take muchos huevos to play,
but his game plan was good, and he’d be okay.
Cause his were as big as the black or the bay
patrolling with tabletop backs that were stacked
with corrupt, hairy pigs who loved to talk smack,
and who bristled with weapons to fend off attack.
And, though the opiners would say it was rash,
he never could stand it to sit on his ***
So, he hurled his armored gelatinous mass
with a splurge of insouciance at all those legs.
The guards slung pejoratives – bent to fillet
his ovoid trajectory into a splay
of malfeasance – but their slashes only caught air
as he flew like a mortar past their stony glare
and that bold lettered sign he had read as a dare:
“Tis Forbidden To Sit On the Wall” -- the King
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
This is so unexpected
What ever you are serving I am eating.
A steak fillet served soft, with the taste of your lips.
Green and red peppers seared hot,
Over open flame.
A special marinade blend, severed with wine.
I'm sure the first bite will melt in my mouth.
Grabbing knife and fork.
The juices filling my mouth, as succulent as you.
Crossing my mind with every bite.
Imagining you on the other end
Filling my mouth.
Unexpected that you'd call.
Are you more surprised that I picked up.
What ever you want to do.
What ever you are serving, I am eating.
Long as I'm with you
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC
It is time to sit out on the dock.
A flash, just under the surface, and
Reddened faces are frantic again,
Focused on fishing out that rare specimen.
A fillet of words will simmer above the fire, tonight.
Did you mimic famous styles,
Or make lightning a memory?
Have you added new layers of brick
Atop the older ones?
If you’re inspired, will you write it down?
Did you hum atop the mountain’s side,
Or summit the crests in time?
Did you get lost around kaleidoscopic corners?
If you did, don’t worry.
Coroners will make you look nice.
Do you want a gravestone when you die?
Will your last thoughts be for our country?
Is your blood red?
Is your paper white?
Is your ink blue?
Does your pen beg to bleed through sheets?
Will you remember what teachers said?
If you did,
Will it matter?
If you didn’t,
I hope that you brought a tape-recorder.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:54 AM UTC
The blood between my legs
Had you salivating
Like you hadn’t eaten in years
And I was a scotch fillet steak
Cooked medium rare
Seasoned well with salt, pepper and fear
Your favourite dish
Served with a side of underage and innocent
Drizzled with balsamic **********
The kind of meal that forces silence
In a room full of people
Fresh blood dripping on your lips with
Eat bite that you took
A sign of a good piece of meat
A sign of it being well cooked
When you finished you didn’t wipe
The grease across your face
You worn it with pride like it was war paint
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 9:27 AM UTC