"macadamia" poems
A box teases me
But aching limbs say, "Beware!"
Macadamia....GO!
Sally
Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Hey, I already told you that you were a little bit crazy.
What did you think—that I was completely nuts?
Come on, Cashew, and shake that walnut-sized brain of
yours, and then we’ll try to put together a decent menu.
Still, I ought to kick you in those itty-bitty sunflower seeds,
those ones that you claim to be your source of protein.
Hey, Macadamia Breath, accidentally lose the ******* hula
dancer and then fire the impending search-and-rescue party!
Your tropical trail mix was no good for each other.
You need a vacation from this deserted island, Captain Crunch.
Go down south and get yourself the businessman’s special.
You know—some old-fashioned brazil nuts.
Yeah, that’s the two-tickets-to-paradise, for sure.
Fool, you really do need to buff up the old almond.
Do I need to open up the **** aluminum lid for you?
You’ve been stuck inside this assorted, mixed can that you
try to refer to as an extra bedroom for nearly nine months.
Get out and take in a little hike and bike
right after you do the wake and bake.
Maybe you should go slow roast yourself at the beach a little.
Why don’t you go to the mountains and try to become one of those
pine nuts that end up in all of those overpriced health cereals?
Hey, Snickers, those dank trees really are beautiful, you know.
Would you quit acting like a frikkin’ flax seed already?
Just admit that it’s almost payday, for criminy sakes!
You pathetic Mister Peanut, you.
Please, Saint Chestnut, give this completely lost consumer strength
from high above store aisle number nine.
Number nine.
Number nine.
Number nine.
Listen to me, Nutt Sack, will you shake those tiny little beer
nuts that no one can seem to stomach anyway?
First of all, they are becoming way too stale just sitting around here,
so if you continue to wait any longer, they will petrify—and then we
will eventually be forced to call you teeth-breaking Corn Nuts!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
Can peanuts breathe within their shell?
When they’re eaten, might they go to hell?
Or are they, truly, lifeless nuts
No sadness, madness, or stagnant ruts
Perhaps the peanut has a king
A mighty ruler that makes the law
Or perhaps the peanut has a queen
A tender mother without flaw
Who knows, the peanut could be grand
With magical tales of Peanut land
Castles, Wizards and Warrior hunts
Pursuing their foes, Macadamia Nuts!
Galloping upon their steeds
Peanut’s charge! Peanuts Breathe!
Screams so loud the birds doth fall
Pulverizing the enemy’s wall
Now the Peanuts have an “in”
They focus their gaze upon the ****
Hoarding together & funneling thru
Macadamia nuts receiving a chill
Piercing shells for 3 long days
Injured Peanuts in gruesome ways
Mournful moans of agony
Numbers declined, so tragically
Is this the end of Peanut land?
Why couldn’t the Peanut still be grand?
“Get up I say and finish your quest!”
The Peanuts did and fought their best
Above the smoke, white flags flew
The Peanuts emerged victorious!
Striding thru familiar front gates
Returning home, so glorious!
Perhaps, in fact, this story is true
That Peanuts breathe like me and you
But one might wonder of Peanut land…
How Peanuts ride with no hands
And if you truly wish to know
How Peanuts talk and Peanuts grow
Open your ears and do come hither
“Duh! The Peanuts have a Wizard!”
Oh, the tales and jokes they tell
One day, they’ll be on TV
Perhaps in films known by all
Like, “Harry Peanut,” aired by BBC
Or, maybe they are just meant for our bars
And smashed and spread upon your bread…
But next time you eat this salt sprinkled treat,
Ponder, “am I sure this Peanut is dead?”
- BPW
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Santa came down the chimney
He was glad the fireplace was not on this time.
He dusted himself off and checked his GPS.
Modern technology
Has made his job so much easier.
Santa remembered when he was using Mapquest
It was not pretty.
Trying to get into homes that did not have chimneys
Was no easy business.
He walked around the living room.
And did not see a tree.
So he took a plant from off the windowsill
And put the presents by it.
This should give them holiday cheer.
Santa then went to the cookies.
He was looking forward to the cookies and milk.
I hope they have chocolate milk
It is my favorite.
He saw the cookies
It was Macadamia nut.
Santa shook his head
It was not his favorite but he had to do.
Then Santa saw the milk
It looked like whole milk.
Santa sighed.
They are not bringing what Santa likes
He then drank the milk
And spat it out.
What is this?
Almond milk?
Why would you do that to Santa
He shouted.
Then ran into the kitchen so no one would see him.
Santa had to wash his mouth out.
All the while muttering
Almond milk, Almond milk?!
Almond milk is not even milk!
It is just potpourri that fakes being milk!
Real milk comes from animals that feed on land.
Not the land itself!
Suddenly a man came to the kitchen with his son.
And asked, What are you doing here?!
The son cried out, Daddy he ate your milk and cookies!
Santa tried to explain, I thought they were mine.
And soon left the home.
He went to his sleigh
And told himself, I really should have reviewed the naughty list.
These trips will be the end of me.
Almond milk and macademia cookies?!
What is this, all nut everything for Christmas?!
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
Coffee
Heath
Bar
Crunch
Will sabotage those taste buds,
Like Dublin and its Mudslides.
So blast off with that,
Fossil Fuel,
And don’t let me
Catch you.
‘Cause I’ll keep you,
My Maple Blondie.
I’ll capture you,
And hold onto,
Those Cinnamon Buns.
You’re the Crème Brulee,
Of Chocolate Macadamia,
And the Cherry Garcia,
In my every breath.
You’re the Chunky Monkey,
To this Chubby Hubby;
The Dulce Delish,
for this Americone Dream.
Can’t you see I’ve just got,
A sweet tooth for you,
And your Phish Food?
Your Chocolate hair,
Key Lime Pie eyes,
Strawberry Cheesecake lips,
And your skin is a delight,
Much like Vanilla Caramel Fudge.
Did Ben and Jerry create you?
Please tell me they did!
So I can eat you,
With my cup of Boston Cream Pie,
And I’d eat you all up, Well,
Everything but the…
Half Baked, Karmel Sutra,
Which I’d lick,
Like a cone of Cake Batter,
And then dip into,
Like Cookies and Milk.
Imagine Whirled Peace,
On top of this Mudpie,
And then Split,
Like a Banana.
That’s the kind of Brownie Batter,
I’d stir with you,
And then add a scoop,
Or two,
Of Turtle Soup.
And you would yell,
PISTACHIO PISTACHIO!
Where for art thou pistachio?
And with a bowl of Peach Cobbler,
And a spoon of Vanilla,
I’d look at you,
wink,
and offer you a pint,
of my Mint Chocolate Chunk.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
My eyes smell sleepy, he, refusing to depart,
But there is coffee on the nightstand,
The odor, infiltrating the dozy brain's heart.
Annoyed with each other,
They shout and fight
Like teenage siblings Commissioners at the SEC,
Arguing over bathroom monopolization,
The tongue stays sidelined, feigning net neutrality.
The bed smells empty,
For the **** has crowed,
Yogi David commands your presence
At Saturday morning Eight O'clock yoga services.
To get to his Sinai on time,
Early departure, an FAA requirement,
Car, ferry and foot you will deploy,
In the winter, special skis and snowshoes,
That blessed by his mantra,
Enable you to walk on water.
In the kitchen there is sisterly conversation,
Yes, puttering and muttering and discussing,
Sister's grown child texting, he's making the pilgrimage
To see Mama, alone, unexpectedly,
Six hours driving.
Friends and countryman,
That is how you spell t-r-o-u-b-l-e
Sleepy master dwarf refuses to concede,
Says when kitchen noises retreat,
Back to him you will supplicate,
They (the other dwarfs and body parts),
Have a big convention to better communicate..
Departure comes without a kiss,
But not without complaint,
She always says I love you first,
Which is natural,
She being a girl.
Now the bladder starts to whiny~chatter,
What about me, what about me,
Don't you love me, and me rhymes with P!
While the stomach quietly snores
Have been well-fed
but a few hours before,
He dreams of some more....macadamia crusted s'mores...
I could verse you more,
No problem that's for sure,
But you got the point:
The morning smells.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
and the page turns,
memories sepia, brown
and frosted with time
come to light.
faint, murmuring words,
swim at the back of my mind.
summer days....spent in splendour.
balmy nights and mosquito nets.
rockpools little crab kingdoms, the smell of coconut oil and arms macadamia nut brown..
and again the page turns
the boys in rugby kit
me standing off to one side
head in a book...
one girl among too many older brothers
always a tagalong in handmedowns and enid blyton's famous five..
and again the page turns...
christmss hats and presents
cold chicken,salads and little baby prawns....sherry trifle
and poppajack snoring, beer still in hand...
and the page turns and turns
little windows into former lives......sometimes nostalgia
and sometimes.... just a peeping tom..
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
Disillusioned by the open market,
he polishes his glasses and stretches,
running a hand through hair made artistic
by the blunt scissors of the philosophy major
who lives downstairs. It was a trade,
he tells me. Short back and sides for a batch
of macadamia nut cookies. Barter economy.
He mutters about measured value,
divides a piece of paper, and breaks a pencil
while forcing the verses of quarter sheet poems,
recounting the night he stole four sponges
from a craft supply store in town,
a drunken fuck-you to the establishment-
but also, he admits, it was late and
he had to do the dishes.
If you want to see how big the world is,
he says, take off your belt. Now
tighten it to the usual hole, put it down,
and look. You are a speck of dust on
the wineglass of human existence.
Don't let it get to you. You are smaller and better
than you think. Another quarter sheet finished,
he slumps back on the defeated sofa
and reads me Desiderata, putting on airs,
grappling with devotions to poke holes in certainty
just as I do now to the worn leather strap,
shrinking my claim to the wineglass with each punch
of the silver awl, and after years, still waiting
for the clink of his belt buckle,
the moment when, humbled,
he remembers he is only
a child of the universe.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
**I want to shoot someone
I want to shoot myself
I need just one gun... one
Two bullets would really help
I want to push you over a bridge
I want to ******* hang myself
Lion fighting off crocodile
Insanity? Or mentally versatile?
When thoughts force themselves into your head
Instability, in and out of bed
When the fine line between what's sane and what's not, becomes a grey area
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Really though?
You could turn your imaginary place into a play area
Just sort of "go nuts"... macadamia
Walk around with your head held high
Saying "I'm going to slay me a... dragon today"
Or smack the stripes off a zebra, then head **** a giraffe
Enough!... **** I'm beginning to scare myself
Next time I write a poem
I should ******* prepare myself
S'nuts.**
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 12:47 AM UTC
ducks need water
possums need acting classes
a horse needs to run
ligers need fans
and monkeys need macadamia nuts
I need some ray bans
dogs need love
cats need mice
like mice need hide-aways
I REALLY NEED those Frye boots
mosquitos need blood
and fire needs air
water needs a pathway
I need a new weave
feet need ground
sails need wind
Louis needs a direction
and I need their new cd
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
to blame this
on anyone but myself
would be a catastrophe;
shattering what's left
of humanity.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
There's this little shop in heaven
They call it Cocoa Palace
It's where God creates the world's greatest chocolates!
Idris Elba was made there
Boris Kodjo too
This is where Tyrese was double dipped
& where 2 Chainz got the juice
...
This shop is open to the public
So all the little girls (& boys) in line can have a little of chocolate too!
I've been in line a few times cause you see
A girl, like me, has an allergy
Cocoa could literally **** me
So God sends me gifts
Every now & again
To see which chocolates my body can stand
There was mocha with nuts
A beautiful cheating candy bar
There was double dipped chocolate fudge
I knew that was going too far
I shouldn't press my luck
He even sent white chocolate macadamia
But even that didn't **** with my taste buds
...
Recently I turned 21
& I knew He had something special wrapped up
He sent an import with hints from the islands
The type of chocolate ordered by queens & stolen by pirates
A special order for me
Milk chocolate dipped in honey
Drizzled with black licorice
Coated with a mouth piece
It even came with instructions
Savor slowly please
Negative reaction? Not yet
So maybe it's meant to be
Was this God's Special recipe?
....
Of course not, baby, you have an allergy .
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
i remember how we first started talking
you sounded so nice yet intimidating
and i guess i was already attracted by then
i remember how i fell and what made me fall
it was all the small things
it was the moments we shared
i remember the way you say hello when you answer the phone
and the different tones you have depending on all your different moods
and i remember, how each and every tone sounds like
i remember the different laughs you have
and how horrible it could sound sometimes
but i loved it all
because it made me laugh too
i remember how much you love nuts and your top three favorites
macadamia, almond, hazelnut
i remember your love for snakes
you would send me pictures and videos of them
you learnt about them in class and you would get home and call me to tell me everything
oh actually you do that every single day
for your every single module
the passion you had in your voice
gets me smiling all the time
and i would just keep silent and listen to you
and when you were done i would say i love you
and i could hear you smile when you say that you love me too
i remember the way you would sit and study when you are stressed
i remember the way you study
i remember your favorite brands
i remember how you would ask me to call and accompany you as you do your laundry and how friendly you were when you bumped into people
i remember our **** competitions and i actually remember how some of yours sounded
it was disgusting
but i loved you more than ever
i remember the way your eyes changed when your emotions changes
i remember how they would look at me and say a thousand words to tell me how much you love me
and i would do the same
then i remember how i would close my door
switch off the lights
due to the time difference the night would still be young for me but not for you but you would wait for me
then i would call you
and sometimes you would cry cos we didnt manage to talk the whole day and you missed me so much
so did i (i still do)
i would then sing you to sleep with my horrible singing
then in between my singing i would ask you to drink water cos i was afraid you were not drinking enough and i would always remind you that our *** has to be transparent not yellow and it cracks you up every single time
so you will drink and i remember how it sounds like when you drink from your bottle and the stupid sounds you would make while drinking and how you would giggle cos you found it funny
and when you start saying **** in every single sentence you say
i knew you were sleepy so i would keep singing and singing
till i could hear you breathe heavily
and i would call your name and there will be no reply
then i would say good night and i would beg you to wake up the next day
cos i need you
i should have hung up after you fell asleep but i didnt
i listened to you sleeping, breathing heavily and steadily
sometimes snoring so loudly
sometimes sleeptalking in some foreign language
that was what completed my day and night
i remember so much still
and as much as i want to forget them
these little moments and things about you
add up to all of you
and its the only way i could have you during the loneliest of times.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
Last night I whispered my scream
To the girl with the American spirit
Spent half the night
Begging those eyes to gaze at me
Maybe break night with me
Then we fix it it in the morning
You should be in my room at this time
You should see how the sun cuts through the blinds
It's the smell of the morning coffee
The freshly baked macadamia cookies
The smoke of that mint cigarette
And the snuggle of the pillow you sleeping with
Its your voice
It's the words
It's like mathematics
The 1 that can't be ignored
The understood 1
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
love you like cold wet macadamia hair
i love you like a boot itch
love you like the cucumber antidote
like licking you off my fingers and then sticking them down my throat
i love you like a caged and malting tiger
like i’m using this muzzle
to eat or kiss or both at once
love you like you love the blues
and how I just learned to sing
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 6:27 PM UTC
Feeling deathly
Dearly or Darely
The fresh
Prince air
Royalty flew________->> her ear
Losing my wing
Tight hug hold- bearing
Seat me ((The Group))
The fruit loops caring
Jefferson Airplane______*
The rain in
Spain
Graphically
Airbrushed
Shes the marvel
of comics flight book
How you used
to travel no
panics or air
fanatics
I was his carvel___*
to the top
He's mainly for me
Hey! don't cop
out on me____#
My mind isn't
any number
Deli take out
Scared my wits out
He's a flight low
feeling brain____ dead
Ah! Vey is that so?
Ring around to
ears of corn
I met Rosy
Some writer's
block
The ear revolves
around wake up clock
So many planes
crashed
Remembering Mom
Saying here's the
airplane
Feeding
The code yellow
She's the alert me- red
The dead weight of air
In retrospect
The plane on air--- pop
Shes so retro on
the go non-stop
This is dedicated to
the one I love
He's the frequent flier
Come-back< Go- Foward>
the landing
The Godly sending
toward me
But the butterflies
Got the pilot___ cockpit*
Dunkin Donuts
Spilled the beans
Hitman
Macadamia Hawaii
I welcome you nuts
Rose blossom Japan
trees escalate
Bali Islander Barista (Cafe)
She was wearing
her lucky red-
Long earful (Giraffe)
Speak up we need
more ears were short
Did you hear me?
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC