"hotdogs" poems
I've only been camping a handful of times and this is the first we've been in about a year and its very nice and the outdoors is very comforting. The stars in the sky shine so bright tonight, they remind me of my lovers smile. The bugs chirp and make so many noises it keeps me up, at late hours. The weather is hot and its humid so my hair sticks to my face and I sweat. I have to *** so bad but everyone is asleep and the bathrooms are unbearably disgusting. It took us almost an hour to set the tent up and we had hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner. The bonfire was warm. I can't wait to get out and go swimming in the lake later. Camping is alright.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said;
- you are not from round here-
- no - I said -I am from Mexico -
- you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either-
- r you from the south?-
-Georgia, as they call it -
-well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese-
-you mean yellow-
-or *******
- or **** you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?-
-sure men-
-Girls just wanna **** you cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and ****
-yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal-
-I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin-
We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ****** they were calling each other **** I've never heard.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Zeus had plastic surgery,
his fingertips shaved off
so he would not leave prints
when he committed
his archetypal crimes.
He changed his name to Saturn
then to Cronos
then to Albatross Von Mariner,
all this subterfuge
just to disquise the fact
that he goes borderline ballistic
when he doesn't get his way.
He pulled Icarus out of the sky,
wounded Prometheus’ side,
left Sisyphus on a steep lonely mountain,
dared Demeter to save her daughter,
yet these souls persist
in mnemonic literary defiance
of a single fact…
No god is greater than you,
the karma jury has come in
and Zeus is sentenced
to five years of community service
on Interstate Highway 5.
He will wear a yellow clown suit
with a red rubber nose
and floppy green shoes
with a fast food tray hanging from his neck
and he will walk in traffic snarls
stopping at every car
to clean the windows
to sell hotdogs
with purple relish and black mustard
wrapped in grey buns
as unappetizing and pathetic
as the lies
he has told us about ourselves
for so long.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
There are some hotdog shaped dogs,
They're weird,
Seem made up.
Nasty little creatures,
Vicious,
Rotten.
Ironic in a way,
Probably can't even **** without help,
But they're fast,
They have strong personalities.
I've never met a hotdog
Dog
Who is not creepy,
Their humans are weird too.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
Describe fires in riverbottom
sand, and the cooking;
the cooking of hot dogs
spitted in whittled sticks
over flames of woodfire
with grease dropping in smoke
to brown and blacken
the salty hotdogs,
and the wine,
and the work on the railroad.
$275,000,000,000.00 in debt
says the Government
Two hundred and seventy five billion
dollars in debt
Like Unending
Heaven
And Unnumbered Sentient Beings
Who will be admitted -
Not-Numberable -
To the new Pair of Shoes
Of White Guru Fleece
O j o !
The Purple Paradise
5.8k
I like ****** like I like my mangos...all over my face.
I like my hotdogs like dick...all covered in sauce and jammed down my throat...
JK...i dont like hotdogs.
I like fruit salad...In the can
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 6:35 AM UTC
three sets of withered, wrinkly hands
with chipped
tired
pale-pink nailpolish
flutter in the air,
describing.
three froofy perms
one browny-gray
one white
one salt and pepper
bob
jutting forward,
one
wobbles a little.
Grandma wears
a green-foam party hat
with a thin, white elastic band
that runs under her wrinkled chin
it sits atop her fuzzy perm
comically...
she smiles
at me.
"Ah! my cappuccino! you remembered i like it, didn't you?"
she chucks her great-granddaughter
under the chin,
grins
"oohh! look at these gardening gloves! Cidi! look at these gloves! i like the green ones."
she hands them to her white-haired sister
aunt cidi told me
this year she is
ninety-one
oh, and the gloves were really
blue.
aunt cidi
misses uncle harland
he was buried three or four years ago
in his uniform
i remember sitting next to him
at awkward family reunions
eating hotdogs
i never saw so much mustard
in my life
he could never hear me
when i tried to talk to him
but he smiled
anyway.
the talk turns serious
suddenly
over our black coffee
crossed legs
sweaters
and chocolate cake
grandma turns grim
in her lime-green party hat
"did you end up killing that trumpet vine in your yard, Jeanie?"
aunt jeanie's head wobbles a bit
she squints
wrinkles her nose
"i TRIED to!"
she scowls.
schemes of ******
plotted by three chunky-earringed
sweet
old ladies
who are a little late
for the 1940's
but never too late
for a handsome
soldier
"we're older..."
says aunt jeanie
"but not THAT old!"
they all
giggle.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
So… he looked on, watching from afar the imagery of family.
Now alone, sitting in place on an old cranky stubborn
porch, eighty-one years of tears laughter and memory/smiled;
his smiled gleamed through the haze and humidly
of another summer day: a day that reminded him
of his younger years when the joy in many eyes gathered
for a day of barbecue and rejoice
in his voice, as his raspy cough briefly interrupted the moment,
was the song of an elderly man missing the days of innocence
but briefly in this time, in the sight of the young boy
he now studied from across the street
he saw a familiarity. His vision saw support and togetherness;
his hearing heard the song of compassion
and in the charcoaled flavored heat, his heart felt
what he thought was forgotten;
the genius and destiny of hope. In his life he has seen
once inspiring brick-layered sidewalks become the mask
of crime that has kidnapped a neighborhood once
proud. He has seen the dreams of children become temporarily
paralyzed by the heights of poverty and many visions
of fear. He watched in silence over all these years
but the tears of his mind has always been vocal.
The shackles
of osteoarthritis that now held on to his bones and the slight
battle with old-aged deafness that now challenged
the vibration of harmony and not even the parade
of high blood pressure marching through his veins
could keep him from feeling the pain and decay
of days passed. But as he looked on at the sight
of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill; as he looked on
at the pleasantries of young and old joining in good times
and fun playing the games of life; as he looked on
and lived again through the body language of the young boy
who now looked back at him
he saw the glimpse of renewal in a community
holding on to the aspects of a neighborhood’s inheritance.
For the first time in many decades, he saw the enjoyment
in dancing trees that waltzed in the breezes of tomorrow;
he felt shades of sweat trickle down his bronzed almond skin
that was the welcomed condensation of happiness
and he smelled a renewed energy of genetic fortitude
that was family all in the aroma of summer cooking --
and so…he dreamed on.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC
I miss mine homie,
Who in the world's name is homie? One mayeth ask.....
Well homie
Is mine old German Shepherd.....
Dad named him that
Funny yes I know.... Long story ....
And though I haveth many Angel's here on earth......
Homie,
Was mine true pet angel....
He always watched out for me when I was around nine years old.
And when one day,
At mine birthday party...
Mine friends tried to be OK with homie,
As me and homie were soulmates friend and being wise...
So mine friend's tried to feed homie through his fence hotdogs,
Like I did with no problem...
And mine old buddy Danny found out.
Homie didn't eat hot dog's
Unless I Gaveth them to him ....
Me, his best friend and soulmate!
Fed them to him....
As I saw homie ready to rip Danny's hand off...
I just chuckled and told homie...
Down boy down...
Homie always listened...
He was mine soulmate....
My do I miss mine homie...
As I remembered one day coming home from school...
Mum picking me up from that young learning center,
She said son I got something to tell thee,
On the way home...
(Yes mum)
I said...
Well,
Homie died
I found him whilst thou was at school son...
( said mum)
I couldn't say nothing
I think I just said really?
As mum told me
He was found in his doghouse
Curled up
Dead.....
I questioned her?
Where is he mother?
Wherein did thou layeth his body mum?
I asked....
She told me she had taken him to some place about fifteen minutes away,
And buried him in some wood's....
I wasn't angry with her.
Nor even father,
I was hurt because I didint get to see his body...
I was hurt because I told mother and father all the time...
Bring him INSIDE!!!!!!
When it got cold...
As I remember it was cold
And snowing when he died........
Yes I understood homie was a big dog
And couldst be a little wild at times....
Though we had a basement
With rooms in that basement
And couldst haveth put a cage down there....
So I felt horrible I didint just bring him in
Even though they thought it was fine to stay outside
During winter......
Mum thought he was poisoned
By someone putting something in his food....
My opinion is he died alone,
When I was gone,
And froze to death....
Don't like thinking of it...
I just miss him to mine soul!!!!!!!!!
I forgive mum and dad not angry,
Just canst waiteth to see mine angel again...
R.I.P homie baby boy...
See you in heaven (:
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
***** from the bottle,
Warm.
Hot dogs from the package,
When your down and *****
The grotesque becomes magic.
Pawning a guitar for a pellet gun,
To procure breakfast.
Squirrel stew in the back of a scamper camper.
Spotlighting bullfrogs,
And mopping floors for a hot meal,
And a cold beer,
And a sympathetic ear.
Nights when the blacktop turned into void,
And the painted lines became a tightrope to nowhere.
Full circle,
Bangor to Frisco,
Any woman who was willing to sleep in the bed of a truck
Was a queen for as long as she stayed,
Always had **** concealed on me,
The copper piece of road currency,
To the gold and silver, of *** and gas.
The exchange rates would change overnight,
But syphon some gas at a truck stop
And it all will be alright.
Misspent youth, following bands
And getting lost along the way.
***** from the bottle,
And hot dogs from the package.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
You aren't big ****
'till you're on a stick,
not even legitimate
like gator, hotdogs, sausage and chicken.
A stick gets your mouth waterin'
and your tongue lickin'
you can get your veggies on a shish-kabob
and cotton candy handed to you at any sport
or circus,
we even got religious services about servin'
this person on a stick!
Wanna be famous? Get your wish
and put somethin' on a stick--
the get rich quick types stick 'em up their ***
while the rest of us gather
at fairs and carnivals to mindlessly laugh
at jugglers, clowns and ride circular rides.
All the while snackin' on somethin' on a stick.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
Why the sudden alarm I ask?
Because you've eaten a horses ***
For years we've eaten all kinds of meat
Mixed with things you find in paint
A list of E numbers a sentence long
Who knew if they where doing wrong
Colouring from crushed beetles shells
Or other insects as well
Artificial raspberry sounds yum yum
Yeah it's made from beavers ***
So here's a tip to help you shop
Look under the bar code at numbers lots
This may stop you getting cross
If it starts with 5 sling it out !
Its Asian chicken bleached and vile
From roadside **** or any source
boiled in salt of course
So we now protest at a bit of horse
Years to late we've eaten worse.
On holiday you eat bulls *****
Your hotdogs could be his other smalls!
Sweetbreads eyeballs hooves the lot
So diced, reclaimed or added in
You've no idea what's gone in
Mad cow mad horse or confused pig
I wonder if I've eaten each
The veggie options just as bad
With GM foods Monsanto's bag
MSG enhancers to to stop the food from tasting goo
So wine or beer for me tonight
As foods now a depressing sight
Bacon butty anyone?
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
the marriage between two hotdogs and two buns
some say it is a bliss - the union of two hotdogs:
two pieces of elongated meat lying side by side
bound by grease, tenderized by heat.
some say they're sumptuous,twice as filling, twice as fun;
though you can only consume them one by one.
two hotdogs can quite be a scene,
may it be dinner or an afternoon delight.
some may like it, some may not.
but who can deny them, that for them is delight.
the same goes for the bonds of two buns.
two hearts twained, bound by filling.
twice as refreshing, doubly fulfilling.
food for the gods, truly life-giving.
for the marriage of two buns can be mouth watering.
the matrimony of two hotdogs and that of two buns,
may be fun for anybody, but not for everyone.
as most could still be sated by a sandwich; grilled meat and toast.
as the marriage between a hotdog and a bun is still preferred by most.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
I bring hotdogs and turnips to it
gladly sit in the unpopular rows
with people who know their **** stinks,
not those who feel a need to condescend
degrade and comment on others here
I would gladly bring 'tato chips
and nachos and pass on the high brow
caviar some think they are
for you smell
when you judge others
like you are the beginning end and class of the show
when you are just
pretty versions of ********
in better clothes
with store bought words and
stupid wits.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
daffodils sprinkle their magic
fairy dust along tufts of whispering bluegrass.
her laugh skips across the rocky driveway,
as she watches her best friend balance on a skateboard.
panting spotted dogs lap cool water from their
brightly colored bowls as they lounge on the wrap-around porch.
next-door-neighbors splash into their pools, the scent of
grilled hotdogs and charred hamburgers wafting across the
aquamarine sky. children with floaties splash at their
parents, tiny mouths bursting into sun-soaked smiles.
sunscreen-toting mothers drag beach towels embroidered with
superheroes and princesses to dry off their young ones.
warm-bodied babies cry on bouncing knees as storm clouds
gather across the stainless steel skies. little girls squeal and
parents scoop their plates filled with food into the house, as
lightning sings in the afternoon.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 6:47 PM UTC
corporation against company,
train rider against commuter,
the animal's instinct is to destroy
and somewhere between a beer and 2 hotdogs,
cigar smoke and chatter,
joe got hit,
his legs bent,
and his *** hit the canvas.
...and somehow through the roar of a 1000 voices
I can see and hear
the ref
counting
chanting into joe's wondrous brown eyes
"1,2,3...
"oh shit," joe laughs a bit bemused
perched on top his vertebrae of stairs,
"oh shit,"
and he climbs back down those bones
into the quiet night...
there is distance were a building once stood
and the field that was the farm
that made way for a factory
is a field again
where no wheat will grow.
I kick the ground trying to unearth
the ashes of joe's fire
but the angry earth just bleeds dust...
...and down at Marty's grill
the shadows lean forward
and with one quick stare
drink up the dreamer and his dream...
when I leave Marty's Bar
there's a boy beating a dog
with a baseball bat.
the yelping, howling dog
and another swing of the bat...home run.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
Hotdogs grilling
Filling the air
assualting my nose
sizzle
sizzle
Cherry blossom trees
Releasing their thickly sweet perfume
carried on the breeze
wet aphault
after a summer shower
tickling the back of my throat
Freshly mowed grass
Their light scented aroma
Clinging to my clothes
Chlorine filled pools
Making my cough
splashing all about
:-D
I'm
so
Glad
That
Summer
Is
Here
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
The memories that were made around
THE FIREPIT
My husband had a great idea
I'll build a FIREPIT
It will be like camping.
So with the help of my dad
They dug the hole,
Added built in benches
It was grand...
We had breakfast, hotdogs, chili
Oh yes, Marys chili
She made it on our FIREPIT
We added neighbors, and all our kids.
Of course samores were a big hit.
One night we hauled the little
Black and white TV out there
And watched THE BLOB....
With our just popped popcorn.
Back then SCARY.......
The stories that were told
Around that FIREPIT
Solving the worlds problems
Which seemed pretty simple back then.
The neighborhood was like a family.
The FIREPIT was a gathering place
for laughing, sharing stories,
And eating....
~
By judy
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
It is becoming harder to find people who refuse to be cowed by fear, and made to hate.
Our borders are a circus sideshow; we sit in increasingly uncomfortable pews and watch the sad, desperate clowns beg for some of our popcorn, and the chance to sit down and rest, for just a little while. We don’t want the popcorn; we want hotdogs and french fries but it all costs too much these days, and that’s their fault too.
Build more fences, send more dogs.
Children scream as their ears bleed but they aren’t ours, they aren’t anywhere near ours. They aren’t anything to do with us and it isn’t our fault or our problem. A young boy washes in the sea closer to home. The salt stings and his body starves and he’s the ultimate unwanted. He wants to return to a home that will hurt him even more, and to a family returned to the earth. Blame the French. Blame the Greeks. Blame the Muslims and the Syrians, the swarming, stinking hordes.
So come to the circus, and bring your kids, 3000 crying clowns, all walking the tightrope without a net. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. The horses have bolted and the dancing girls have all been sliced in two. The ringmaster never drops his whip. He sits in the centre and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
I often wonder how much of human behavior is determined by the society in which someone is raised.
On one hand nostalgia has provided such a warm comfort within the constraints of my culture,
but on the other hand I've always been steadfast against nationalism.
Your society can, and often will, keep you in the dark, america (modern society in general) is a model example of such.
Most people would be content watching television with a fast food dinner of hotdogs or chicken nuggets their whole life,
but try to feed them the feet, brains, intestines, even bugs ground up and processed to produce such national treasures,
and they'd be running the other way, calling for a health inspector who would find nothing out of the ordinary.
It brings into question the very foundations of our reasoning.
What is right, what is wrong, what are we supposed to want out of life?
From eating, to learning, to working, to mating, nothing is set in stone.
If we're going off of what is purely human, the only truths are eat, sleep, **** and ****
Sometimes we can't even manage all of these.
These thoughts are filtering through my head now because for sometime I've been seeking a lifestyle "off grid",
and I've had to break down the way of thinking I've been taught is right, crazy has become sanity.
Birth
School
More School
Career
Single long term monogamous relationship
Retirement (if lucky)
Death
"Afterlife"
Now birth and death I can get behind, but as for the rest of it, I'm just not sure.
Agriculture, industrial revolution, private property
all for the advancement of our species, right?
But is this where we're supposed to be, what, who?
What about egalitarianism, what about I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together?
Hunting, gathering, sharing what you have, trading for what you need, one for all and all for one.
What's mine is yours because we are both stuck on this planet, in this time, in this life, and we all deserve to live.
My food, my home, my mate, my heart, my mind, what little we each have to offer,
why would you hoard? To live is to love, am I wrong?
I don't know.
But I'm working on it
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
The memories that were made around
THE FIREPIT
My husband had a great idea
I'll build a FIREPIT
It will be like camping.
So with the help of my dad
They dug the hole,
Added built in benches
It was grand...
We had breakfast, hotdogs, chili
Oh yes, Marys chili
She made it on our FIREPIT
We added neighbors, and all our kids.
Of course samores were a big hit.
One night we hauled the little
Black and white TV out there
And watched THE BLOB....
With our just popped popcorn.
Back then SCARY.......
The stories that were told
Around that FIREPIT
Solving the worlds problems
Which seemed pretty simple back then.
The neighborhood was like a family.
The FIREPIT was a gathering place
for laughing, sharing stories,
And eating....
~
By judy
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
‘Human life is beyond reason
We are just small pieces, you know’
‘Grains of sand, you know’
‘You don’t seem to understand
I can see it in your eyes, girl’
Then you put your hand
With a cigarette in it to your lips
‘You know, how it seems to me?’ - you say
‘Everything good we had in life now slips…
Please, turn the music up a little bit
My favorite one, heard it before?
Oh, no? you don’t say so!
I should now say ‘get up and go’!
Sorry, you know it – I’m just kidding… I am!
As long as I live I’ll show you the best music, my friend…
This is all that matters in the end’
‘Wanna do something more
Wanna help orphan kids, you know
Guys dying from cancer and aids, you know
But I only keep on buying milk and hotdogs
For the homeless one sleeping at my door…’
‘Wanna do something more
I’VE GOT TO do something more!
We all are selfish, kid, you know
You do know it for sure
Can’t help the others
So, the others won’t help us’
And I…
I just kept listening
I kept on listening and listening
All my attention given to your feelings
In words
And I don’t hesitate to say
I found a soulmate in you
And still I wasn’t that pure
Simply inside my head
Caring
About what we have and had
Comparing
The present and the past
People in general
And our own being at last…
And I was dialing your number
For the whole next day
The voicemail kept on telling
You had gone away
You were so smart; you were so kind
Understanding and ahead of your time
I can’t believe you are gone now
Where?
– I don’t know
I only know forever
Can’t even tell you come back, please
I only know
I will
Forever
Keep you
in my memories
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
I think about Shane in the middle of the night,
For no apparent reason.
No telegraph arrives to remind me.
Just immediately caught unawares,
By the timeline of months days and hours,
Since he left.
There is substance to his departure.
He doesn’t park in my spot anymore,
His seat on the couch is empty,
His opinion is not heard,
He doesn’t come with us to the matches,
He doesn’t eat hotdogs at half time,
He doesn’t buy his round anymore.
There were many beginnings to his departure.
Some noticed and some dismissed,
The shaved head,
The weight gain,
The staying in bed,
The tiredness,
The missed team practice,
His soft quietness rather than his razor wit.
There was a documented record to his departure.
The consultant’s diagnosis.
The recorded return of the tumor like a badly made film sequel,
Chemo 1, Chemo 2, Chemo3.
The morphine drip beating out the measuring of the waiting.
The finite final breath.
Our hearts stopped with his as he departed the room,
Dressed in a suit and Despicable me Socks ….Only you Shane!
The Final notice in the paper recording the date and time of departure.
There were things left behind after his departure.
Mainly my daughter’s young heart.
As I lie awake in the darkness where death accompanies me till the dawn,
And then as one bright day follows the next,
I dismiss my own departure,
Until I think of Shane again.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
i love apples
and hotdogs
but they don't go together
they aren't meant
to have one future
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
You were born on the wrong side of the tracks
But now we're both on the train
******** about our overpriced hotdogs.
They ran out of ketchup.
A grandmother three rows down is
Screaming obscenities at her grandchildren
Because they won't be quiet.
Four more hours.
But there is no way I can play another
Game of cards. I've lost every one.
Out my window
Miles of poverty become miles of fields
In an alternating pattern of bleakness and desolation.
The lady across from me
Draws her curtain closed.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC