"fondue" poems
Gold crown of Olympus, hair crown and
Skin gown. First we throw our bodies at
One another. Heaping piles of human soup.
Bold maneuvers, hands and mouths and
Boy meets girl lying down, on top, intertwined.
Skittish moves on a tryst. Wet fingers of freshly
Tendered infinite decibel pleasure screams.
Streamers above a long rooting movement.
Overture of Aphrodite. Sparkling, glitter woman,
Legs pressed tightly to the chest,
Loose appendages intertwined. Intersticed dactyls
In rapture, soothing. Bodies build to one heart's beat.
Two muses fused together. If I wasn't afraid I'd wake you up
I'd slip on my shoes and make a tropical fruit fondue.
Stage two:
Ice cream lover's delight. Opus to brown sugar.
To swimming again, a pursed lurking of lips
In the academy of the pastoral commonwealth.
We eat at our stations of the sublime. Today which was
A day of discord- you nursed me back to the land of the living.
Stage three:
***
Stage four.
***
Stage five:
As we earn our pageantry to take
Stride on this Earth, and string a
Great bow of eager success among all of us,
You, me, them. While I continue to
Gaze at you. If not dinner, perhaps a
Cup of tea instead.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
a piece of art you are
in your worn out sleeves
and heart shaped eyes
laid out in a bed of cherries
and a field of tulips to share with me
your ocean view windows
that streak the blue sea
and your sheer white pearls
that melt onto me
like chocolate fondue
warm and sweet;
you are the taste, the mouthful
of words that sit on my tongue
get along with your truffle kisses
and your red wine lips
begging for the chateau
to soak in the void
and with a mind shining thought
you traced my back
with the stem of a flower
that went on and on
for the next half hour
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
Mary had a little lamb,
two lobsters and a Christmas ham,
a three-pound tub of chicken wings,
seven bratwurst tied with strings,
thirteen loaves of garlic bread,
a schnitzel bigger than her head,
four rare steaks, a dozen eggs,
caviar and turkey's legs,
strips of bacon, mushroom stew,
chunks of bread and cheese fondue,
and two whole jars of sauerkraut,
(to clean all of her insides out).
Finishing the pasta salad,
Mary soon looked drawn and pallid.
"I don't feel well," poor Mary said.
"I think I need to rest my head."
Then from her stomach came a moan,
a straining, churning, twisted groan.
Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide.
She'd only seconds to decide.
What could she do? Where could she go?
Her stomach was about to blow!
So, reaching for the nearest bucket,
she retched, and then began to chuck it.
All the courses that she'd swallowed,
and the apertifs they'd followed,
all the steaks and all the fish,
each and every single dish
came flying back from in her belly,
filling up the bucket smelly
with a foul and toxic brew,
and no one knew quite what to do,
so this went on for ten whole minutes
till Mary had expelled her innards.
When she was done, her eyes were red,
and sweat was pouring from her head.
"Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?"
her mother asked. She didn't hear.
For Mary was already off -
the waiters saw her try to scoff
the whole entire pudding bar.
Now, this had pushed her mum too far.
"Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through!
I've done the best that I can do.
I'm sick and tired of all you eat.
I will not pay for all this meat.
I'm going home. Go get some help —"
Then Mary's mum let out a yelp!
She glanced down at her legs and saw
sweet Mary there begin to gnaw!
She struck the lass, but with great haste,
alas, the girl had reached her waist.
As Mary's ma was there devoured
by her offspring, overpowered,
she cried one thing ere final slaughter:
"It smells like lamb in here, my daughter."
Mary licked her lips and grinned.
She belched out loud and then broke wind.
She felt her tummy start to rumble -
and calmly ordered apple crumble.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
The smell of swiss fondue
a chocolate fountain
moist strawberries
angel food cake.
The smell of brunch buffet
apple turnovers
honey sliced ham
bacon and eggs.
The smell of exhaust
as we walk
to the chapel
up Oliver Street.
The smell of flowers
rainbowed daises
heart shaped lilies
a single red rose
on the broach
of your six year old
brother.
The smell of family
friends neighbors.
The smell
of your six year old
sister
beautiful Easter dress
sky blue ribbons
silk bonnet
blonde hair
smooth skin embalmed
because leukemia
doesn't smell.
Today
we will all
believe in God
or pretend
at least
for you, her sister,
her mother,
her father,
her twin brother,
and for Ruthie,
her chest buried
in tear soaked flowers
in a four foot casket.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
Oh nose on my face,
You empty my wastes.
My snot filters through you,
Into the chocolate fondue.
I blow my snot rockets
Into my mom's pockets.
I keep myself in fashion,
By blowing you with passion.
I love you Honker
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 7:02 PM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Roses are red, violets are blue
A dinner you promised, just me and you.
Reproving winds lectured me in bites
For my barely-there skirt, and lustful eyes.
Sour cream lathered that oily exterior.
The aftertaste lingered, creating a barrier
Of which soft lips could not break through
Nor embellished flowers or chocolate fondue.
With our stomachs full, with more than just food
You brought me back home with beer-stained shoes.
My mind a fog. The Lamb now waits to be skinned
For the Wolf that set the ****** trap to finally begin.
Virginal blush, tinged with her bruises all blue
A dinner you had promised, just me and you.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 3:39 AM UTC
I built me a yellowish
statue of you
out of last nights curry
and the cheese fondue.
Your *** was madras
your **** vindaloo
and stilton is what
yer built on.
WHOOP DE FUKIN DOO !!!!!,
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
strawberry frenchfries dipped in chocolate fondue.
cry me an 8 oz cup of water when i step on you with my giant blue shoe.
dance through the forest with gnomes stapled to your shoulders.
hide your foil gum wrappers in manila folders.
left and right. front to back,
oxygen in the atmosphere may lack.
pluto and jupiter intertwine when night falls.
orange and green leather sewn to your ragdoll.
licking the excess frito crumbs from under your fingernails,
eyes pealed to the scenery of wacky inmates in jail.
selfish yellow and blue fish yelling at dr. seuss,
reading books in sunrooms drinking orange juice.
camera flashes and ripped dollar bills,
making chocolate pancakes on top of cherry hills.
hazy eyes drowning into a dream,
winter nights as cold as ben&jerrys; ice cream.
red hand chasing numbers on a clock,
movement of legs turns muscles into rock.
acid drops from black heart clouds falling onto driveways.
little kids on scooters munching on happy meals while saddened by the loss of sunrays.
23 degrees celsius and shine forcing itself through.
ice cream trucks and roadraged humans trying to get through.
bumble bee roads with lines and street signs,
teens boredum, smoking dope, drinking ***** getting fines.
police on the prowl everyday, every night, seeing through lies,
keeping their sight wide-open like a mouth in surprise.
fettuchini alfredo at fancy restaurants.
ice cold water knocked over on a ladys lap.
words missing letters, conversations missing sound.
apples and basketballs losing shape and sense of round.
flat chested skinny ******* slipping through cracks in wooden floors,
obese transexuals getting stuck in between doors.
puzzle pieces glued to the top of a bald head,
veins appear blue but blood is red.
blowing kisses, blowing out candles
cats,dogs,birds wearing sandals.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC
Innocence is as pure as true love
As clean as a dove
As heavenly as fondue
A far cry from untrue
Innocence is the sound of the wind through the trees
But I sometimes wonder
Is it always what it seems?
Or is it not?
My love always said
It is what the eye sees and the mind believes
It is simply a game of hidden lies and pretty eyes.
It is a disguise for the guilty
A shield for the weak
Something rather oblique
A reason to deny
Innocence is nothing but a pure flawless lie
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
it faded like slavery
but the screams will not.
not this time
not with this much
involvement
my body, a strawberry
strawberry, begging for fondue
slavery begging for an end
involvement is too exhausting
nor giving any relief, so
much energy spent slowly, as if dripping
time wasted
wasted time, wasted life, dipped in a bitter
fondue, unpleasant and messy
dipping of bitter lips until the bitter
end, *** empty, needs washing, another
exhausting task, requiring to much
involvement, too much effort
Effort is what i can't give, I'm
bitter about that and angry. With too
much resentment, just growing inside me. More
messy baggage,
another issue, as if I don't already have enough. So im
bitter, so what?
What difference does it make?
I'm to battered for repair,
I'm to exhausted for any attempt at anything
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 8:30 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
Teach me to swing dance
I'll teach you how to be responsible
You can teach me another language
And I'll show you how to be so comfortable
Because sometimes we're self destructive and unaware of all the damages we've done
Sometimes we have to lighten up and learn a different way to overcome
You can teach me science
And I will show you truth
You can learn about stand up
And you can force me to watch the news
I will bake you cupcakes
You can make fondue
We'll get you high on caffeine
You can show me the right way to stir a rue
Because sometimes our subtitles can be our biggest strengths
And sometimes our past times are the inspirations we create
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Your lips bleed
like the scarlet syrup of a
dark passion fondue;
two curly lines of red
peeking from behind
your hallowed veil,
and you,
you lay them upon
my neck,
my very body you hail
as your own.
This then, is like
a red petal falling on
alabaster
or a rose stained in blood
as I pull you closer to me
and together,
we drown in a pool of
crimson wine
you anoint
my lips with.
The taste of you
is like the tip of a sword
dipped in sparkling liquorice;
and our ******* becomes
the hypnotism
my tongue
slickly wrap around,
or perhaps,
the ****** of this
eyeless world.
We’re just like
diamonds sleeping on their
velvet cushions,
or illuminating puppets
showing the way.
Love, may you claim me,
till death do us part.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
The match struck and I ignited,
My heart melted like strong cheddar cheese
Bubbling,
with juvenile hope.
You taught me how to nurture my smile -
Let it run free.
You were the guide who helped me relocate
my laugh that got lost somewhere
on the left side of my brain
Now,
Every time my smile tries to fade,
Like comfort food seeping
through my punctured happiness,
Your fondue jokes take me back to that day,
like the burning cheese
that seethed into love.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
The first time I slept beside you in that basement
You were a stranger
And now you’re a close friend. But somehow
The sleeping hasn’t gotten much more comfortable.
My neck has hurt all day.
And when I said “happy new year” to my grandma
I still felt like I was holding back
A fourth round of ***** –
You know the vomiting actually hasn’t gotten much better either.
I remember the first time, sitting
On somebody’s aunt’s friend’s bathroom floor
Texting my sister “I’m drunk, I’m sick, I’m sorry”
While this ****** girl that I hadn’t yet fallen in love with
Held my hair back figuratively
But you
You held my hair back more literally last night (it’s gotten long),
And you know that I’m glad we’re friends
But that cheese fondue my mom prepared
Didn’t taste so good coming up the other way
And I shouldn’t need, I shouldn’t want, I shouldn’t need
To swig back so many shots
To tell people how I feel
Which might not even really be how I do feel
Because that girl wasn’t really all that ******
And ever since she left (I left her)
I’ve been looking for something to cling to and
I haven’t found it in this person or that person
So I tried to find it in this sea of bottles
But all the bottles empty quickly
And my neck has hurt all day so
Just don’t take it personally if I don’t
Spend the night in that basement with you again next time.
My neck has hurt since she left.
And I’m still drunk.
Still sick.
Still sorry.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
You told me you were glad
I had taken a chance on you
You told you would love
To have me at your house
You told me to feel free
To stay as long as I wanted
You told me I could be your friend
Only if you could be mine
You told me you would be there
Whenever I needed someone to talk to
***** data roaming
You told me to shout really loudly
If I could not reach you another way
You told me I wasn't a fool but if I was
I was your kind of fool
You told me you couldn't believe I couldn't dance
Because we were the best dancing partners
You told me that if you brought the best in me
Then the best was pretty ****** amazing
You told me it was hard being us
Always so awesome
You told me you liked having me there
In the same bed as you
You told me the both of us
Made a pretty good team
You told me you did not intend on stopping
Talking to me, laughing with me
You told me you would teach me anything
How to cuddle and whatever I wanted
You told me you would take me to the beach
Because I had not yet been
You told me you would take me to do something fun
Whenever I would get some free time
You told me we made a great team…
… Unless we were playing Monopoly
You told me you would come and try the cheese nan
If I came and tried your fondue
You told me you liked staying up
Just so you could talk to me
You told me you were glad you took the ferry
To meet me a universe away
You told me we would make a perfect team
I could be the olive skinned French beauty, and you the eternal white Englishman
You told me I was too lovely
You told me you would come and get me
Even if you had to walk to get to me
You told me you wanted to go to Venice
And asked me if I wanted to join you.
You told me so many beautiful things and for that I am so grateful
You made me smile so many times
You made me happy every day
For a while
Then you forgot I was alive but I still have the memories of us
In my mind, next to the could have been drawer
Where all the things we could have done, could have been,
Lay still in silence.
You told me so many beautiful things and I
Believed them all.
You made me believe I could fall again.
You broke my heart but you made me believe,
And for the next one who will come along
I will open my heart wide open
Because you made me believe I could,
Maybe,
Love again.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Everyone is watching,
As you float upon your toes.
You glide across the stage,
And your passion shows.
You dance the story,
Of the Prince and Odette.
You show the terrible tale,
As you pirouette.
You waltz, you plié,
And orbit the stage.
You become the music,
Violinists turn their page.
Your skeleton moves,
In intricate ways.
You jeté across the lake,
As the audience sways.
The tattered silk is leaking,
As the crimson starts to seep.
You smile, you push on,
You take the next leap.
You sauté, you soutenu,
The signets sing.
You fouetté, you fondue,
You enter the wing.
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
In the morning I'll wake
To the sunshine, rain, smell of new lawn
Jump up and for us, morning tea I'll make!
Walk around with next to nothing on
Take my time in the shower
But keep it under half an hour
Dress in the comfiest thing
Turn up the radio and sing
Flop down on the couch beside you
Wearing a little girl's smile on my face
Your shining eyes turn my heart to fondue
Holding me in this warm, ***** embrace
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
In 1973,
My father used a favorite shucking knife,
Its short blade loose in the wooden shaft,
To pry open rocklike oysters.
He passed them to us, his heirs
To the iced tea spoons, the fondue ***
The escargot shells, the silver martini shaker,
And we would first check them for pearls
And then hold them, like religion,
Above our mouths,
Tip our heads back,
And let them slide over our tongues.
Yesterday, at Little Pond,
As March thawed the glassthin ice,
I startled at the cracking,
Welcomed the blade, sang the amen.
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 3:53 PM UTC
we could have the summers in italy
the peaches in paradise
the dawns and the dusks and our toes in the sand
but we're doing the vtc and ecstasy
listening to scratched disks and taking shots of drain water
dreamers only think in French you tell me
so i chant the words
je veux tout in my head
i want the nutmeg stuck on the walls in my nose
and your moans in my ear till 4 after midnight
i want the silk sheets wrapped around my neck
the tongues in my mouth
i want to get familiarized with the richness
when a balenciaga shoe hits me and the euros are in my bloodstream
i want to be used to it
the velvet carpets and red lingerie
the colosseum and vatican city
busboys with scruffy berets
expensive wine in busted hotels
chocolate fondue and burnt pasta at the cartels
michelangelo's david and authentic fur coats
tramps and 2 dollar bills down your throat
throwing ash trays at the sistine chapel
gifts of china tea cups and diamond rings to forget the scandals
fat cigars and the bonnie and clyde lifestyle
i want it all in italy baby
je veux tout
je veux tout
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
I need to stop. Writing everything down on a piece of paper hoping that it'll wake. Everything out of me because all I end up losing is. Nothing. And I am so tired of finding my words thick like fondue glued to eyes.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
I bake my words, served to you with love
Until they've simmered through and through
And although they may seem meaningless
I still recommend you slowly chew
There is a flavor to my words
The ingredients, I myself grew
Each morsel hand picked to be used
For the stew made for just us two
A dash of this and a dash of that
All while conscious not to include trans fat
A healthy meal of friendly chat
That's where I see us, that's where we're at
The stove acts as the interpreter
That transcends consumption into fact
And it's the essence of a home cooked meal
Which allows for opposites to attract
I put my soul in to my soul food
I stir up the fun in my fondue
Just as I do with my advice to you
To be washed down with a frothy brew
I speak with good intentions
I'll use my past experience as proof
You'll see....
I'll have you dancing beside your tastebuds
Before this evening's through
With song in heart and stomach full
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients
For making a child with a heart of Gold
That they were born holding a Medal
Which said they owned everything and All
Of it was because they had convictional Purpose
The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour
To thank the mother for Baking
An excellent batch of babies, Soda
Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt
Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter
The flavours of intellect and it also Softened
The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated
Smelled like caramelizing Sugar
Inside the room, the bodies Packed
Together to peer at the Brown
Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar
-like shrieks of life broke open the Egg
Of love and made it taste like Vanilla
Its tears looked the most Semisweet
A dripping fountain of Chocolate
Fondue, be careful not to Chip
The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely
Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped
With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts
And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if
Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
We’ve all done this I’m sure
We’ve gotten a chocolate bunny for easter and we’ve taken away it’s protective layers
Taken it out of the box
We rip off the ears first
We jokingly laugh, oh no my bunny can’t hear anymore
We later move to the eyes and rip off the individual sugar dot
Oh no my bunny is blind he’ll never see again
We take away their sugar carrot
Oh I guess they’ll go hungry
We rip of it’s head
Laughing at our headless bunnies
Then we eat all the rest
And uh oh my bunny’s dead
I wonder if that’s how terrorist think
If they see everyone in the world as chocolate bunnies ready to be ripped into chunks
When in interrogation rooms with
Women, children,
fathers and sons, waiting to be questioned
They just see large chocolate bunnies
a fondue of sweat running down their faces, and
When they feel the need for pleasure they take the bunny’s ears
Uh oh now that man can’t hear
They rip the eyes away
Oh now that women can’t see
They take away the small carrots
Oh no now that child is hungry
They rip each chunk away until
Uh oh they're dead
I think that’s the only way the terrorist
mad men , immoral human beings
can live with themselves
Is seeing everyone as chocolate bunnies
So much easier to melt down and mold into something of their liking
Or bunnies living with the one purpose of being consumed
And I wonder if that is what sometimes their victims picture themselves as
Because chocolate bunnies don’t have minds or hearts
They can’t feel the pain
They can’t feel the shock of the bodies ;littered on the ground
So they won’t see their own tinted blood flowing out
So they won’t see their homes burned down.
I wonder what would happen if we could stop seeing chocolate bunnies
Would we see human beings
Or would we just see some other sugary thing
Waiting to be consumed
Because sometimes I think I’m gummy bear
Just waiting to no longer have a head
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC