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julianna May 2018
What would you do if you saw a girl spending pennies and pearls on food?
She gobbles it up and then she barfs, which she thinks makes her feel good.
Later that night, with her conscious she'll fight as the guilt eats her for lunch
But she'll never tell of the story where of she went to after brunch.
T Jul 2018
My heart is heavy because
I know I deserve love
But no one stays
I wonder when it will be my turn
To feel like a child -
Wide-eyed; wholeheartedly, innocently Love
I am tired of being a door
Opening their hearts; teaching them to Love
So they may give it to someone else
Must I weave a net?
But I thought love was free
How do I be as fluid
When my Love is like a stone;
Solid, sinking, ever-rounded by their passage
1 hour a day
5 days a week
It's all I had
It's all I needed
It's all it took
For me to fall in love
(with you)

-JCM-
Falling for a coworker? It happens. When they quit and left they took part of me with them and took the reason I looked forward coming into work.
Madeleine Apr 2018
My teacher asked all to write a poem
and to turn it in before the class ends
I don't know what to write about
except what others may
so I tell you this
that I do like this assignment
yet I don't because I can't just write a poem from thin air
for something must come to me
I am slowing down for I do not know
what else to write
I can tell you this
that this is an hour where I become hungry,
sometimes very hungry that
my stomach growls when its silent
dead silent
I guess I have more to write about than I thought
Then again its just thoughts that are coming
to my mind and spilling on to this sheet of paper
now full of words
the class is almost over
making the time fly by writing
I don't know how to end this poem
except say a few more words
one hour closer to lunch
zebra Mar 1
the red light of sin illuminated her ankles
she, a thousand frisky demons
comfort me
as i yield blood eyes
for switch blade kisses
that push through retinas glass aperture

dark girl with a penchant for hideous pleasures
*** crimes like blatting pistons
her mothers womb twisted with regret
as i live in her hell ****** stare
******* talons that pierce ******
like diaphanous ribbons

her **** floating angels
and feet sweeten my face
in subduing rituals
of hard knocks
getting her mood up
for blowing **** loops

my nose; her **** soaked door ****
her ******; a squeeze hustle
innocent fig strained
mix meistering patterns
of extruded clay;
a pomade of raised bumpy torpedo's
fingers to *****
***** to fingers

i run to her
like bones of air
and she teaches me
in the blood of pandemonium
to make ice in hell
I will not renounce my subjectivity in favor of a sealed objectivity
Chicken Sep 2018
I don’t want to talk,
I just want to eat minestrone,
There is nothing left to say

Just leave me with the soup,
In one infinite loop,
As I chew and participate in decay

The soup will return,
In some other form
That I wish not yet discuss

So what is your problem?
Just put it in the soup,
No need for a verbal fuss

Chew it up for change,
Because you can do that,
Though seemingly overlooked

Artificial intelligence cannot replace your soul,
We’re the best AI that’s ever been cooked.
Just for fun :] A discussion on artificial intelligence at lunch Vs I cannot be arsed with that.
Michael John Sep 2018
well that was lunch which
was preoccupied with such
thoughts of the typical poet
eg why does the world want
to cheat me..

what is the point and what
is for tea..my lover´ s eyes are
burnished fields´  of wheat
i thought of love
and lily..

a small blue bowl of vague
reminded of a broken heart
and since stopping smoking
marijuana has my art
suffered unnecessarily..

or is it better some clue
must tell the difference between
the placid and uncontolable rage
the compatability of lasagne and rice
the oxymoron..

the pollution of serviettes..
with our destructive urges
laced with inexplicable
flat cola and
creation..

not unlike hunting for
searching salt to will
made in our own likeness
cold soup to chips
to explain..

what is this thing called man
chapatti and jam..
we have to have to tell
we have to work
and then stack
to clear them..

begin again
the thoughts
of a typical
poet and soooo
end..
Juhlhaus Feb 21
I sat outside today eating sushi and miso soup in the sun
Some squirrels came by and stared at me hopefully
I put a bit of miso soup in the lid and set it out for them
But they weren't interested
Then a gust of cold wind blew the lid over and the soup was spilled
One of the squirrels went for the crumbs in an old potato chip bag instead
A somewhat poetic anecdote from my lunch hour.
ethan gaskill Jul 2018
i want to be
your vintage crooner for life
frank sinatra mixed with marvin gaye
with twenty-first century style
i'd greet you at the door with flowers
and be your chauffeur to wherever
you want to go i'll take you
there's no rush; we have forever
our life can feel like a movie
almost too good to be true
sooner or later you'll realize
i've always felt that way about you
galas and night dances and jet airplanes to france
would only be enjoyable if i'm holding your hand
i think that we could see our dreams
with our own awake eyes
so come and ride away with me
and we can have the time of our lives
whether sunday morning pancakes or a tuesday noontime lunch
breakfast in bed or a venice bistro will be equally fun
and if god takes us that far
i'd point to you when our daughter asks what a queen is
we could show our children how dedication
and compassion makes life feel like you're dreaming
and someday many years from now
when we have an empty nest
we'll remember the feature film of our romance
and decide that we did it best
s Oct 2016
We used to swing under the big willow tree
We lived 3 doors down from each other
We were princesses who fought dragons
We could save the kingdom and find our prince by lunch time
Our moms laughed and talked about how cute we were
Four years old was a cute age

Fast forward a bit
We went into elementary school innocent and young
Boys had cooties
Girls had cooties
Kickball always ended with someone getting hit in the face
We would always sit out feild and pick grass and shape it into a little birds nest
Life was good
Until your parents started fighting and I mean really fighting.
It scared me and I would have to go home
I would make you come with me
three doors down
Our moms didn’t laugh anymore
By Christmas break your parents were broken up and divorced
Eight years old was a confusing age

Junior high was mean.
Girls would rip you to shreds and then hang pieces of you on everyone’s lockers
Boys just wanted to make out
A whirlwind of uncontrolled hormones
We were the quiet ones
Always flew under the radar
Just trying to make it out alive
We found a little spot to each lunch under the stairs where no one would go
We giggled and talked about boys who didn’t even know that we existed
I remember crying in the bathroom with you because people were brutal and we weren’t good enough
Our moms worried about us and how distant we were becoming
Thirteen years old was a sad age

Highschool is another story
You were put in the hospital for a month
I was left at school alone
I had to find more friends
I found most of them were fake
So I ate my lunch in a bathroom stall
Reading all the swear words that were carved in the wall
You were really sick and we grew apart
We were always close
We will always love each other
You tried to save me from myself
But I didn’t let you
Seventeen was an important age

Now we are at different colleges
I tried to **** myself while you were getting an A on your anatomy test
It’s sad
We don’t swing under the big willow tree or fight dragons anymore
Our moms hardly talk
You are a success
and I am a failure
We don’t really mesh
I miss you every day
I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you
We were princesses who lived three doors down, we saved the kingdom.
I love you
I’m sorry this has faded
Just like everything else
Nineteen years old is a dying age.
Really just a story
somewhere between the fourth and fifth

load of laundry,

sometime after breakfast~lunch,
now served in the USA at home,
as an all day meal, per the edict of Mcdonalds,
start fixing dinner, take a break, walk to the mailbox,
retrieve the post and quick retreat back inside,
ah that Texas sun, bilingual chili hot,
toss the unopened on the prior weeks pile,
cause everyone loves company

the home-cold-brewed ice coffee needs a filling
for the fridge has decided not to help
by automatically refilling the pitcher

even if it could
I, busy folding,
needing two hands
and all my teeth
for folding my master’s rocket ship

sheets

my master observes with one of his alternating demeanors,
this one, super silent watching, announcing that  I need a nap:

“don't you always say, baby,
take a nap when you can, baby,
for when you need one, baby,
you probably won’t be able, my baby”


with selected-hand-led fingers,
he lays me down to sleep,
bids me to slow slide to dreamland, dinner will keep,
curling inside my frame, hands a-cupping my *******,  
telling me a drowsy tale, inherited from his mother’s womb
and his granddaddy’s tongue, mindful of his family’s history

there, is where, they find us,
dinner fixings burnt,
me and my five year old baby boy,
still sleeping fast, around 5pm, bodies enwrapped,
tied by blood and entwined in old nursery rhymes,
Texas tall tales of Pecos Bill,
me and my very own

nap-ster master

<•>

p.s.  and they call me by my other name to wake me, momma
Sara played the Chopin,
her fingers moved
in a steady pace.

Maggie was in the kitchen
preparing lunch,
thinking of Edward,
hoping he will get
the tickets for the Verdi.

Sara's fingers trickled softly
over the keyboard.

Her mother sat
in the chair,
although not really,
she was dead,
but Sara
saw her there.

David was coming
that evening
to make a foursome
with Maggie and Edward
to see some Italian opera.

Sara paused playing,
and turning
saw her mother disappear,
leaving an empty chair,
as if she'd not been there.

Maggie listened
to the silence;
the piano playing
had stopped;
she felt ill at ease,
she waited,
the soup and bread
prepared.

Sara began
the Chopin again.

Maggie smiled,
all was well.

She took
the soup and bread
into the room
for both to eat;
the Chopin trickled
to a gentle cease,
but Sara's eyes revealed
no peace.
Two sisters in London in 1922
Anya Jan 2
It’s moments like this
Some obscure song playing on our google home

My brother, gazing off into the distance no doubt under the spell of some great philosophical inquiry,
Neglecting the spoon and it’s contents
Drip drip dripping

My mother in the corner, seemingly preoccupied, slender fingers probing what appears to be
Yet another bag
Of those chocolate covered toffee almonds

My father, ever the victor in competitive eating, up and roaming about
By the window one moment, at the couch the next
Gone like the wind, oh here he comes

Meanwhile I, face a great trial which I must overcome in order to greet my destiny
-stairs
At the top of which await
Dozens upon dozens of procrastinated
Assignments just calling to me
Stirring up within me a desire,
A ferocious flaming ambition,
To not move an inch
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2018
I asked her to stay away,
I wanted her to leave.
I needed more space,
This is what I used to believe.


Frustrated by her demands and expectations,
I felt little less of freedom.
Started hating to explain how I spent my hours,
what was I doing and what did I had for lunch.


Bored of relationship,
Thought I needed a break,
Just a bit more space,
to do the things I crave.
She misunderstood me terribly,
I adjusted but failed miserably,
Started losing myself trying to keep her closely.


Finally, the separation happened,
It got over I was delighted,
went out on a trip, partied, enjoyed.
She was the one who suffered the most
Things got better as the time passed by.

I pushed her away,
I made her weep,
Not thinking much asked her to leave.
Break up was tough on her,
But she got through,
I made her cry so the Karma has to come for you.

I Met her again at our favourite place,
in hope of getting her back ,
but I could see it in her eyes, that I have been replaced.
Now everything is finished,
everything is blown.
I paused but she moved on.
Now I am the one who's ******* left alone.
Going through the guilt , pain and alone phase after pushing my girl away.
If you really want a break up think over a 100 times before going for it.
Ellie Dec 2014
A boyfriend and a goal
The fuel to my eating disorder.
Just 5 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Just 4 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Just 3 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
Just 2 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
Just 1 pound.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
No breakfast tomorrow
Just **5 more pounds...
I've been healthy and happy for 2 1/2 years.  To anyone struggling: you can beat this, I believe in you!
Jenny Gordon Apr 6
Smile?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXVI)


What? ere the daffodils nod with a sense
Of picnics in their sunny yellow scale
As twere of frilly cheer; whileas the pale
Eye of half hidden blue heavns trails from hence
Thin shadows 'cross the naked lawns green thence
Haunts with a ghostly touch; while sparrows hail
At intervals, and breathing is t'exhale
Without a second thought, what's not pretense?
Saul fell upon his sword t'escape as twere
Abuse by lo, the Philistines; died too,
And if war's gained a new face, claiming fer
Is't modern Troy? that it's a horse, what's new?
They'll let you see the palace' room in tour
Which is the grandest, and you thought you knew?

03Apr19b
I guess we'll just need to wait a tad longer until Odysseus announces himself....mebbe in CA or TX or NM or AZ or?
An expert in mycology,
Of Norsian biology,
And fjordian psychology,
A troll, I troll the livelong day.
I troll the livelong day away.
Mushrooms for dinner, breakfast, and lunch:
My comrades call me Edvard Munch.  
In lyric peaces I live in league
With Jean Sibelius and Edvard Grieg.

#
Bryce Jun 2018
Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.

New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?

Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme

Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus ******* Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?

You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.

Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow

Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.
Imagine this centered: And lunch with Kirk and Uncle Bubby

Even the birds are staying home today
Those flocks and flights whose accustomed spirals
Make animate the skies are grounded by frost
And leave the waters of the marsh in peace

Young men uniformed in Nomex 1 and beards
Spiral into Hollier’s Cajun Kitchen
From the barges and the maintenance shops,
Cracking units, pipelines and hotshot rigs

They are smart, tough, and strong; they fuel the world
And pose for pictures with the concrete pig 2


1 Nomex is a flame-resistant material developed by DuPont and is worn by workers in many industries, especially petro-chemicals.  The man or woman in Nomex keeps our cars, our lights, and our lives functioning.

2 There are in fact two concrete pigs outside Hollier’s (pronounced “O-Yays,” says Uncle Bubby).
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.


Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
I wake up to my darling
My darling wakes with me

— Out, in and on white sheets we slip
For breakfast, lunch and tea
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
#13
The Spider Apr 2017
When I was very little, my dad used to make up songs about what he was doing around the house.
Getting ready to go fishing, he'd make up a song.
Making lunch; he'd make up a song.
And once, he was making coffee, and I vaguely remember it.
My dad was holding me while he was pouring the coffee into the coffee filter,
The water in the coffee ***.
I remember him looking at me and smiling and then he sang:
"I love coffee," he'd sing and I'd echo with what he'd sing.
"Coffee every day,"
"When I wake in the morning,"
"It gets me on my way."

-J
I love you dad. Even all of your weird embarrassing songs.
M&Ms; and 7up
Hershey's bar
Reese's Peanut Butter Cup
Snickers and a drink of Mountain Dew
There are three flavors of Charleston Chew
Twix; Twin Bing
Salted Nut Roll is king
I really could eat them after / with anything
Breakfast, lunch, dinner and  in between
I bought me a candy bar
It was made with carmel nougat and cream
I'm gonna eat it
Oh yeah, my tummy will scream
My little obsession
It's a bit obscene
There is no tummy ache that could come between
SUGAR!!!
And this chocolate fiend
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