"hotpot" poems
The lames and children of the Lesser minds
are stirring, stirring, stirring
with paddles and ladles
with brooms and spoons
with knives and forks and slicers
with sticks and wooden mortars
with lean rods, brambles and twigs
Eagerly they stirred the cauldron
in demented exertions they huffed and puffed
Turn to the right turn to the left
one leg in and one leg out, we all turn around
we're stirring, we're stirring the *** they crowed
I looked into the ***
the *** was empty
I see nothing to stir
Nothing but hot air
nothing but hot air
What possesses lesser minds
into dances with the Gemini moons
The emperor's tailor
on yet another jape
Go on my puppets, stir that hotpot
I can sniff that delicious goulash aroma from 'where'
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
*******
i thought i already knew what it felt like
to lose someone forever.
and yet, i still sit here shellshocked
stunned.
in my mind i imagine
the crunch of metal
grinding in my ears
over and over.
you were probably
asleep in the backseat.
one moment, dreaming
the next,
gone.
last year
i lost a bet with you
"you have to go out
to get hotpot with me
at least once"
you said.
last week
you told me
you weren't feeling so well
-- not sick --
just sad.
and though you mentioned
suicide,
you brushed it off
"nah you're right,
we haven't gotten hotpot yet.
i can't just die"
but then you did.
last night
at 5:20pm
you texted me
"this car ride is so longgggg
i made a meme
do u wanna see it"
i didn't respond until
the next day,
but last night
by 6:47pm
you were already gone.
and i sit here now
in the steam of hotpot for two,
hands pressed against my eyes
i can feel my eyelids trembling
bitter bitter tears dripping
into the broth.
but it makes no difference to me.
hotpot will always
always
be bitter
without you
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
like the transition from work clothes
into nightwear, good book in hand
like slipping, trembling, into bed after a hard day and
being overwhelmed with warm slumber
sinking into the mattress
pillowed, soft, safe and caressed
- thats how I feel, held close to your breast
a hotpot over a stove, cinnamon steam
rising, curling, condensation at windows
reflecting black and illuminating snow
drifting, heavy, while the chill waits outside the door
and the house breathes heartily
and the cat curls up even more-so
- thats how it feels when your arms wrap around my torso
the northern lights dance just for us
and the sahara sands swirl
the oceans, each seven, perform and twist
in our honour; countless
clouds serenade our connection
a tornado blows through Kansas, just to see us closer
and mountains smile, and bow from their hips
-thats what I see when you kiss my lips
and all the cosmos
floats in your irises
colour kaleidoscopes, the genes of ink to water droplets
stains on paper skin, the prettiest of each
character of you, and
from the pool of my gut bursts forth a constant trillion butterflies
- thats what can be seen when I look to your eyes
it just feels so easy to love you
it was so easy falling in love with you
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Men seeking men,
when did that happen?
Men seeking Women,
swimming in dangerous waters.
Women seeking men,
again when did that happen?
Women seeking women,
more dangerous swimming.
I refer you to a line in a piece of my poetry,
'I think the bedroom
should be a forum
for a woman
to show
a little decorum'
Of course
those with dinosaur views
will
in the end
like
the dinosaur
lose.
Some people wrap themselves up in a book
some in a bottle of wine
some people seek that perfect romance,
but mostly most don't have the time.
We get dressed up
to get messed up,
can you see a blind date?
'Rate this now or later'
five words are
the new fornicator.
Everyone is looking for someone
it's a world full of find or we sweat
everyone wants to be so cool,
but we get hot and then we forget.
Finally,
It's absolute insanity
I reach out
into the hotpot of
society
hoping to find
someone to
live
their life
out with me.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC