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"fraiche" poems
a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational  descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
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Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
nat-lipstadt
#1299 : a new & old love poem: I am the summer-man!
a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational  descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
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Au temps Au temps où l'on va toujours plus vite, pour en gagner Autant de temps à perdre devant la télé Quand les pieds d'argile ont des chaussures en croco Au temps de la guerre des égos À celui passé à l'usine, qui roule sa bosse Quand c'est tout ce qu'on apprends à nos gosses Fais de l'argent, entres dans le moule À l'heure où notre joli navire coule Quand les recherches les plus subventionnées sont militaires Quand l'homme avance un pas en avant, deux pas en arrière Quand on a plus que jamais tous du sang sur nos doigts Là où on trouve moins d'eau que de soda À l'heure des strings et des braguettes Quand la pucelle à honte de l'être Quand on fait l'amour à des images, à du kevlar À l'heure où l'art fait sa pute, et au street art Aux endettés que le temps presse Aux laodicéens qui pensent boire de l'eau fraiche Au temps passé en emmenant nos valeurs Au temps modernes, au temps perdu, au temps qui fait peur Au temps qui veut m'arracher ce que j'ai de plus précieux Ma sauvagerie, ma liberté, comme la prunelle de mes yeux Au temps, à ses aiguilles qu'on ne peut casser, Qui passent sur nous comme on laboure un champ Plient et tâchent une peau tant de fois griffée, Puis laissent à nos yeux que le blanc Au temps qui nous abimes, qui passe et nous emporte l'un après l'autre Au temps des idoles et des rois, au temps des apôtres Au temps qui passe et estompe nos mirages Qui file tout le temps, qui jauni nos images Qui nous vieilli, nous flétris, nous habitue Qui nous ternis, nous aigris, puis qui nous tue. Au temps qui ne s'est pas passé comme prévu Aux tremblotants, au temps qui nous fait perdre la vue Aux palpitants qui s'arrêtent Aux pétillants qui naissent À ceux qui ont tant passé à contre courant, au monuments Qui résistent contre le vent, qui malgré tout et pour autant Au temps.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
adrienzo
Au temps
Au temps Au temps où l'on va toujours plus vite, pour en gagner Autant de temps à perdre devant la télé Quand les pieds d'argile ont des chaussures en croco Au temps de la guerre des égos À celui passé à l'usine, qui roule sa bosse Quand c'est tout ce qu'on apprends à nos gosses Fais de l'argent, entres dans le moule À l'heure où notre joli navire coule Quand les recherches les plus subventionnées sont militaires Quand l'homme avance un pas en avant, deux pas en arrière Quand on a plus que jamais tous du sang sur nos doigts Là où on trouve moins d'eau que de soda À l'heure des strings et des braguettes Quand la pucelle à honte de l'être Quand on fait l'amour à des images, à du kevlar À l'heure où l'art fait sa pute, et au street art Aux endettés que le temps presse Aux laodicéens qui pensent boire de l'eau fraiche Au temps passé en emmenant nos valeurs Au temps modernes, au temps perdu, au temps qui fait peur Au temps qui veut m'arracher ce que j'ai de plus précieux Ma sauvagerie, ma liberté, comme la prunelle de mes yeux Au temps, à ses aiguilles qu'on ne peut casser, Qui passent sur nous comme on laboure un champ Plient et tâchent une peau tant de fois griffée, Puis laissent à nos yeux que le blanc Au temps qui nous abimes, qui passe et nous emporte l'un après l'autre Au temps des idoles et des rois, au temps des apôtres Au temps qui passe et estompe nos mirages Qui file tout le temps, qui jauni nos images Qui nous vieilli, nous flétris, nous habitue Qui nous ternis, nous aigris, puis qui nous tue. Au temps qui ne s'est pas passé comme prévu Aux tremblotants, au temps qui nous fait perdre la vue Aux palpitants qui s'arrêtent Aux pétillants qui naissent À ceux qui ont tant passé à contre courant, au monuments Qui résistent contre le vent, qui malgré tout et pour autant Au temps.
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e.g. the marinate for pork... already mentioned: olive oil, garlic paste, light brown sugar, honey, soy sauce, worcestershire sauce, ketchup, ginger paste, cinnamon, cayenne pepper... how can you speed-up the marinating process? sure, in the fridge the whole mix goes... but in a plastic bag, sealed, removing as much oxygen in the bag as possible... to quicken the marinating process, you have to suffocate the ingredients... quasi-deoxidiße the whole bag... and what does a lack of oxygen provide in low temperatures? rhetorical question... then you massage the marinate into the meat... but like i said: you want to quicken the marinating process? everything in a plastic bag... sealing it, pushing any available air from the bag, and into the fridge... i'd say an hour... boom! out comes beijing pork, out comes mao tse tung finger-licking good on the bbq; the idea came to me after drinking about 35cl of *** not bad... compared with other addicts, we're slightly (insert snigger) more industrious than ****** addicts... see a skinny alcoholic, i'll play you the game of poker-face, before someone cracks up (no, no cards involved)... yummy yummy... who would have thought that oxygen slowed down the marinating process... side dish? even yummier... lettuce... creme fraiche, a dip or two of mayo, salt, pepper, and... WHA! white vinegar and sugar... which lettuce? 1 little gem and 1 romaine... the carbs? a baguette... my my, cigarettes taste so much better after a meal you made yourself, and fried on the barbie... cooled down with a breeze and a beer.
0
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
how to speed up marinating
e.g. the marinate for pork... already mentioned: olive oil, garlic paste, light brown sugar, honey, soy sauce, worcestershire sauce, ketchup, ginger paste, cinnamon, cayenne pepper... how can you speed-up the marinating process? sure, in the fridge the whole mix goes... but in a plastic bag, sealed, removing as much oxygen in the bag as possible... to quicken the marinating process, you have to suffocate the ingredients... quasi-deoxidiße the whole bag... and what does a lack of oxygen provide in low temperatures? rhetorical question... then you massage the marinate into the meat... but like i said: you want to quicken the marinating process? everything in a plastic bag... sealing it, pushing any available air from the bag, and into the fridge... i'd say an hour... boom! out comes beijing pork, out comes mao tse tung finger-licking good on the bbq; the idea came to me after drinking about 35cl of *** not bad... compared with other addicts, we're slightly (insert snigger) more industrious than ****** addicts... see a skinny alcoholic, i'll play you the game of poker-face, before someone cracks up (no, no cards involved)... yummy yummy... who would have thought that oxygen slowed down the marinating process... side dish? even yummier... lettuce... creme fraiche, a dip or two of mayo, salt, pepper, and... WHA! white vinegar and sugar... which lettuce? 1 little gem and 1 romaine... the carbs? a baguette... my my, cigarettes taste so much better after a meal you made yourself, and fried on the barbie... cooled down with a breeze and a beer.
Continue reading...
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