"gastronomical" poems
maybe the buildings are hollow,
occupied only in facade on the first floor of storefronts
maybe this whole town is a hologram
of neon against puddles
on the pavement.
maybe the citizens are ghosts
floating by
in circles, or squares of city blocks,
around a routine,
or droning through on electric scooters
as if on muted theme park rides
to the next sensory diversion;
to the nearest gastronomical pleasure;
toward the weekend and its next party
celebrating the loss of time,
I see their tired faces
staring out from the glass
of coffeeshop windows
on every block.
I see their piles of beer cans
beside the trash chute.
I hear them singing
on booze-cruises to nowhere
What part of this cycle
that turns days into dust
moves us closer to heaven?
What feast from what new restaurant downtown
will feed our souls?
From which lonely night do we finally emerge
beside the one
whose presence fills
these hollow buildings
to the top-most floors?
Which of the empty lots
between us do we fill
with a conversation
about how this is all a dream,
or how we'll keep each other awake
on a bench
beneath a street lamp before dawn
waiting for the first bus to take us home.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
Dietary supplements
Self-inflicted implements
Gastronomical desires
Quenched as if fire
Turning heads from meat
To vegetables and wheat
Years pass by
You shrivel and die.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
I wished you could've met my beloved
Mary-jo-anna while she still lived among us
Imparting on us her wisdom and wondrous ways
Her eyes could see through any secretive soul
Her fragrance would soothe any pensive nerve
She'd make every meal a gastronomical delight
Her embrace would cradle me to a blissful sleep
Her mind could cure the most torturous disease
She'd make every tune a sensuous delight.
Life was wonderful for us indeed
When Mary-jo-anna was still among us
Imparting on us her wisdom and wondrous ways
But she fell foul foul eventually, of our Big Brother
For she showed the people his hypocritical ways
Exasperated! he conspired with the village elders
To drive her away, with lies about her “devious ways”
She's now an exile among the sages, hidden away
Imparting on them her wisdom and wondrous ways
While our village degrades to hatred and hypocrisy
Under the thumb of Big Brother's oppressive ways
The people are awakening to what they have done
And long to have Mary-jo-anna among us again
Free among her people and free from ridicule
To impart on us her wisdom and wondrous ways
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Hard boiled eggs.
Fill the saucepan
up with water;
boil and boil
till everything is dry;
then run
the cold tap
so that
the inferno
cools down.
Peel
gently,
add
salt and pepper
and
devour.
A
gastronomical
delight
for
anyone
in
a garret.
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
I am anchored to thoughts of Brugge.
My gastronomical panache is set.
Walking in a medieval town is like
voyaging to the summits,
the stillness of the morning air
comes with a sense of belief.
Rossie our tour guide
quilts you with the knowledge
and a knowing boon.
Nowhere else provides such testimony.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
I want more, and I will lie no more.
Call me greedy; I don't care anymore.
I want more money. Who doesn't?
They are never enough. Never enough.
I am but a **** poor untalented peasant,
I just want to numb myself with more stuff.
With more money, I can buy more books.
The more pages I flipped, I lose myself more.
More money also means more toys that hooks
My inner child - he now knows freedom more.
I want more food. OM NOM NOM FOOD!
I hunger for simple gastronomical richness:
Multiple mint teabags to better calm my mood,
Serve with upsized servings of buttery tastiness.
Yet, even the simplest desires, Need. MONEY!
What's that you say? Learn to have less desires?
Let me write it down on my list; oh that's funny;
This long list, of desires, do you think it expires?
Nay, I say, for all my wants, shall grow evermore!
MORE! MORE! MORE!
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
The snobbish din of clinking cut-glass and a murmured ambient sound,
Of fine dining the Foie gras that seems so profound.
Seems like such a class divide from yesterday’s soiree,
Of the taste of fried chicken and chips that street food provided me, amidst its mad melee.
Tomorrow will be the oriental chimes to my ears and my palette of taste,
As I rate the **** of their culinary, taking my time and never in haste.
Never minding my late last night, quaffing exoticness in cocktails and dreams,
Amidst psychedelic lights, thumping music and frenzied screams.
For I am to decide the best of the best,
Of gastronomical delights that the nation offers, without a rest.
So awaken your senses and make ado,
For the show that’s a Tell All of the Top 10 in eateries and breweries, old and new.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
you don't care much
about the poetry, in set cutlery
and how a multi-course,
when served-
are iambic in its essence
your gastronomical flair
is limited to the interest
of food tasting
so your buds
can spin-off
a taste to your own liking
Spin off fare
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 1:50 AM UTC
His rapidly regressing memory
Often leaves his mind
In a state
of utter shambles
While the ceaseless pain
in his arthiritic joints
Hardly alleviates
For more than a couple of hours
Even after ingesting
The strongest painkillers
His hollow bones
Continuously reverberate
with a crackling ache
That frequently disturbs
The meagre hours
Of his peaceful repose
And the flavourless diet
Decreed by his physicians
Warranted to keep
the increasingly fragile resilience
Of his mellow heart intact
Will undoubtedly
douse your desires
For any gastronomical adventures
As well as annihilate
your hearty appetite
Just by its vapid smell
Yet
The cheerful smile
On his eighty year old
Sagged deflated
And wrinkled beyond recognition face
Refuses to fade
Even by a single dismal shade
Cause he knows
That as long as he is able to breathe
Theres no reason at all
To believe
That the fleeting moments
Of his terribly unpredictable life
Cannot be spent
Happily
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC