"mozzarella" poems
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!*
first it was avocado on toast...
who the **** puts avocado on bread?
i can imagine putting it in pasta...
but on bread?
hey, what the **** does
the acronym f.a.d. mean?
i don't know, and i won't google it...
o.k. avocado on toast...
nothing near guacamole,
but fair enough...
but what i discovered... pushes
the button where i turn into a fox laughter
(fuchslachen) -
i couldn't stop...
you can find it in the weekend
section of the saturday times newspaper...
written by nicola m.
cauliflower and mozzarella pizza...
you have to be ******** me...
cauliflower? on pizza?
one of my housemates at university told
me an anecdote:
i was in a restaurant once,
and asked for a pizza with no cheese...
he continued:
and then the head chef came out and
asked me... are you, insane?!
a bit like: bread... but no butter?
and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon
today, whole,
the red pulp, and the outer layers including
the skin included, allowing myself
a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...
but i thought i was mad...
but there's avocado on toast...
and now... cauliflower on pizza...
it's a ******* side-dish!
wait, don't tell me... you're going to put
some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz
comes along... right?
how about beetroot?
thankfully, if i have some
wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades,
they happen, drunk, after 12a.m.,
and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit
2-in-1...
a newspaper column?
apparently, you get one, putting avocado
on toast...
or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah...
to be honest, even though i haven't tried it,
grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...
the toast? marmite and cheddar...
english people should stop glorifying holidays
in italy... they're ****** cooks...
an italian would just look at
a pizza with cauliflower and say: cosa?
i'd suggest heading to scotland first,
and picking up the vibes from some haggis.
**** me...
avocado on toast...
caulifower on a pizza?!
now i can die happy, 'appy,
clapping: encore!
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
I'm a very cheesy fella
and i love a tasty platter
from stretchy mozzarella
through to cubes of feta
i like them very old
like Camembert and brie
i wait until they turn to mold
to be inside of me
i like them very smelly
crumbly soft or squeaking
at the supermarket deli
my lips already licking
then tasting can begin
with a few red wines
which release my cheesy grin
and cheesy pick up lines
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 2:03 AM UTC
I have hairy legs.
The dishwasher is broken.
I have been reading books.
I have been solving stupid math equations
I have to wash the food crusted dishes.
I’m writing a novella
I’m also researching sodium chloride
My novella is only six pages single-spaced so far.
Comment vous appelez-vous?
Why doesn’t anyone participate
In the
Wash Your Own **** Dishes Program?
I’m studying French.
-b +/- Square root of b2 – 4 (a)(b) over 2(a)
Anyways.
I have been teaching myself
How to play my
Black
Stretchy
Accordion.
[I don’t know why,
But it’s stretchy
Like mozzarella cheese]
I have to help my sister-in-law move
Into my house.
Into the basement.
Heh heh heh.
Daiya non-dairy cheese:
“Melts and stretches!”
Now I have to scrape the
Black tar gunk
Off the plates, because
Mother told me to do so.
Oh, the odium of sodium!
There is
No more time
For me
To shave
My legs.
Apr 6, 2011
Apr 6, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
I'd finger you with
mozzarella sticks
any day or night.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Is it greed, or just a deep sense of self hatred
That drives you
To punish your insides
In such a sadistic manner?
If the body is a temple, then god only knows
What kind of deity you worship.
And if suffering truly is the path to glory
Then your cirrhosed liver will deliver you, surely
To the land of Milk Duds and Honey-O's.
It is not a battle of good versus evil
But of man versus food;
Many are the casualties in this war –
Behold the fallen heroes,
Wearing their purple hardened arteries
Like badges of honour.
A triple heart bypass scar bears testament
To the bravery of these devotees
Who congregate daily at the All-You-Can-Eat.
We gather here today, in this cafeteria,
To witness this formidable challenge,
This ritual of self-desecration,
The stop-watch waiting
To count down the
Seconds
To your sweet salvation.
With eyes glazed over and bated breath
We will watch you eat yourself to death.
A celebration of gluttony,
The sacrificial lamb (and pork, and beef..)
Laid out before you, dripping
Hot sauce and melted mozzarella:
A 10 pound behemoth
That must be slain
In order to ensure victory
And bring you one step closer
To meeting your maker
Bon apetit
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 11:28 PM UTC
1pck. pre- cooked lasagna noodles
2 jars spaghetti sauce w/ onion&garlic;
17 oz. Ricotta cheese
1 t. sweet basil
1 t. oregano
1 egg
1 lb.ground, browned Italian sausage
3 cups mozzarella
1 cup grated parmesian
Preheat oven(with some innocent play)
Mix:
Ricotta(to add some excitement)
Basil and oregano(to spice it up)
Mix in beaten egg(to add stability)
Use ungreased 8x10 pan(to hold the comfort of it all)
Layer:
1 cup sauce(to swap a sweetened kiss)
Even out1/4 sausage(to add some spontaneity)
Place pasta in row(to layer with anticipation)
Spread ricotta(mixed with the above)
Sprinkle 1/4 mozzarella( to stretch the imagination)
Repeat steps 1-5(until pan is full of emotion)
Parmesian on top( to please)
Bake 1 hour at 350•( to heat up the love)
Cool 45 minutes( to lay in each others arms)
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
You were like mozzarella sticks to me
I always wanted more than I could get
(You were so good, how could I resist?)
But when the main course came
I realized that I just had enough
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
Forget the onion and all its layers
thats obvious
You are undeserving for such a cliché
So I invite a different perspective
Think of a base, flour and egg kneaded together like I need you,
so dense in identical morals
Folded with mirrored ideology of future fortuity
Dipped sensually with a sauce so thick,
Thicker than blood or water,
Blended as one to create a sea of red as deep as our hearts pumping vitality
Sprinkled softly with the most palatable, mouth watering mozzarella
Each placing full of utter affection,
Long lost stares while you sit innocent to me feasting my eyes upon your moreish persona.
The only quandry we must face is whose decision that day of toppings to showcase
Who gets the chance to tease additional flavours, delicious tasters
To open eyes to attributes unseen before,
Hopes set high to electrify taste buds
Wanting the other to crave more
Ingredients brought together for a flavoursome pizza
You are my hawaiian
As i,
Your meatfeast.
Opposing trimmings
Eachothers 1st choice
One anothers perfection to quench their dying hunger
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 12:05 PM UTC
dinner Greenport-side, watching the shuffling ferries do
their sworn duty, a back ‘n forth wearisome toll,
while we sip a rose and a PBR, respectively and with respect
no enthusiasm afterward for anything but an early off to bed,
and slip into pj’s asap
me in my knackered wholly Hanes fundie knickers,
no thinking required
but she
retires, re-attires in a summery combo,
a gray sweat t-shirt and green and white
plaid pj pants
which she is unawares are my favorites
cause they lop off fifty years,
a teenage woman re-incarnate recreated
cause her figure now womanly full,
better than then
morning awake l, a disturbance of the peace,
recall a snuggling a wake up hug,
and her bottoms conspicuously
gone missing
over break fast I inquire
over yogurt and berries and a
smoked mozzarella omelette,
what happened to those plaid bottoms?
assuming I was innocent of any transgressions
as best I could recall
with a sheepish childlike grin,
that made look like she was twenty again,
to match the now yoga toned body,
she confesses:
forgot to tie the bowstrings
and they slipped down to my ankles
blessed and cursed I thought!
too much of a gentleman to take advantage,
AND my situational awareness was slipping badly,
but when a poem comes across,
ready and pre-writ,
I’m still young enough to grab aholt of it
and never let go
6/23/18
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
meadows that stays so green at spring
and so bared in autumn
magically white in winter
scorching and gold in the air of summers
perennial.
how do they do that?
to stay the same on the foundation
yet ever-changing on the surface.
what difference does it make really?
what kinds?
of the surcoats of hazel and acorns
or the blankets of snow on the slender branches
of trees?
don't they, even once
feel weary of all the undercurrents,
of shifting shapes of shadows?
and stand their ground
and shouted their demands
and push at intractable walls?
and flop down
and sift like flour
and grate like mozzarella?
to toss the gauntlet
say
'enough!'
doesn't anyone ever muses then
of whether the slideshows of nature
being flagrantly displayed and paraded
before their soon indifferent eyes
would feel of their performance.
but oh,
those poor meadows,
those poor meadows,
those pitiable meadows.
continue with your acts and scenes
that shall never pauses nor halt
oh no, no.
for you are impressive actors
on the forested stage
and the eyes, belligerent
yes, they are
will be watching the other way
never straight to your eyes
your artic, chilled
encasing a turbulent, melting, whirling
hot caramel core
yeap, right there on your irises and pupils.
so go on
go on
my delectable
my neglected
my pushover
my poor meadows.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
Ireland is riddled with
cancer.
Pesticides, herbicides,
fungicides-
Are obviously, not the
answer.
Dairygold® have got
it right. Surprisingly!
Organic pastureland,
green grass, happy cows!
"Golden Valleys,
Growing Naturally" ?
("Logo ™")
without the question
mark.
<>
In the event of Corporate
Punishment, IE, finding a
herd of hungry Friesians
in my front lawn, or my
next organic pizza happens
to be a Crispy Cow Pat with
lashings of Mozzarella, I am
hereby declaring that Silent
Spring lady, Rachel Carson,
was bumped off for making
metaphorical accusations, such
as could be interpreted by those
who are currently involved in
the depopulation process by
way of poisoning the people
via consumer products, that
are known to contain harmful
carcinogenic compounds veiled
by misleading advertising.
natural
adjective
1. her policy of using fresh, natural produce: unprocessed, organic, pure, wholesome, unrefined, pesticide-free, chemical-free, additive-free, unbleached, unmixed, real, plain, ****** crude, raw. ANTONYMS artificial, refined.
2. a natural occurrence: normal, ordinary, everyday, usual, regular, common, commonplace, typical, routine, standard, established, customary, accustomed, habitual, run-of-the-mill, stock, unexceptional. ANTONYMS abnormal, unnatural, exceptional.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:43 AM UTC
Growing up
in an American house
in the nineteen fifties,
sixties and seventies,
the cheese of choice
was Velveeta,
the processed cheese-type food,
and we cut it
with a cheese slicer,
which was a thing
with a handle
and a wire
and a roller,
and my mother
would make us
grilled cheese sandwiches,
which she called
cheese toastwiches,
and the molten goo
would spill out
unto the plate
as we were eating one,
and this traditional cheese
seemed to start
in the days
of the little red metal pedal car
and end in the days
of being drunk and high
at two in the morning
watching Eddie Constantine movies,
and so the cheese
has changed
and it is now
mozzarella.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 8:42 PM UTC
a man needs a goat
every man deserves a woman
every man should have a woman
but a man needs a goat
if a man has a wife
he still needs a goat
a goat gets ya milk
a goat can getcha food
a goat can make a coat
and keep you warm
a man needs a coat
every man should have a goat
even if every man was married
every man would still need a goat
a man needs a goat
a man needs a goat
you can talk to a goat
and he will listen but
won't give you backtalk
a man needs a goat
if you're stuck on a mountain
a goat can find the way back
maybe
a man needs a goat
you don't have to feed a goat
a goat can feed itself
goats eat grass
if you own a goat
you won't have to buy a lawn mower
your goat will take care of that
goats do not climb trees
if you own a goat
you will never have to call the fire dept.
to tell them that
your goat is stuck up a tree
goats don't climb trees
so that will never happen
a goat can make milk
and with its milk
you can make
all kinds of cheeses
like goat cheese
and fresh mozzarella
there is nothing
like fresh goat cheese
and fresh goat cheeses
without a goat
you just can't make any goat cheese
nor
have any goat milk for your oats
a man needs a goat
you can't step on a goats back
you will break it
please use a ladder or
step-stool instead
do not step on a goats back
you can compare your goatee
to a goats beard
they grow'em too
a man needs a goat
goats make good company
you can talk to a goat and he will listen
but won't talk back
he's a good goat
a man needs a goat
a man needs a goat
a man needs a wife
but if a man has a wife
he's still gonna need a goat
a man needs a goat
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
I always thought making lasagna,
is like a religious experience for me.
And it is I mean,
it's always different depending,
on what I have,
for meat or no meat,
and vegetables,
and cheeses,
You can use cream cheese,
gruyere and cheddar believe it or not,
definitely need mozzarella though,
haha,
All those epic lasagnas I've made,
geez,
amazing what I've learned,
NO failures, ever,
and so many lessons in leftovers,
appreciating the depth of flavors
the gifts of the day,
and those yummy memories,
emmmm, boy.
When you can pause,
a -second-
to appreciate the
finer things in life,
like this here leftover lasagna.
It might be what makes you a good chef,
I don't know,
But it sure is better next day.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
One juice box
One scone
One apple for Noble
and a pita for Peter
One sandwich
One coke
One green pea for me
and a pita for Peter
One fanta for Santa
One pizza for Caesar
And extra mozzarella for Ella
The spare is for you
And as for the bean
Put that in the bin
and a pita for Peter
One ice-cream
One pie
One pasta for Busta
and a pita for Peter
One cake
One steak
One milkshake for Shriek
and a pita for Peter
One pita
for Peter?
Give each one their own
and a pita for Peter
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
everyone agrees that you're
tasteless and flavourless
when it comes to
choosing the ingredients
to make the dough for love.
similar to a slice of
cold, leftover pizza,
hated like pineapples
as the toppings,
slapped on like a can of
expired tomato sauce,
cut away like
unwanted crustings,
and being as cheap as
a low-quality mozzarella.
definitely
loved by me
but purely hated
by the entire world.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
Waves from the beach match my waves for my drink
The waitress comes over and asks what’s my order
I said I can’t choose “I’m feeling like there’s clouds above me,
It’s been a rough few days and these double hotel rooms are bland and lonely.”
“Not a problem, sir. I know just what to get to make you feel *****
She comes back with a Hawaiian margarita.
It came with an umbrella which I set aside while saying thank you, Senorita.
I guzzled down the drink to reach the tequila faster,
But the wind picks up and it looks like a disaster.
I ask for one more, with the umbrella.
This fairy godmother returns with another margarita.
The buzz has transformed me like I’m Cinderella.
I leave a 20 at the table and walk towards the beach, ignoring the families with kids who all they do is screech.
Clutching both umbrellas, I walk to the shore
One of God’s many gifts for us to explore.
I never noticed how nice he made the decore.
Tequila is the only alcohol that’s an upper, or so I’ve been told.
But I enter the water even though it was cold
What happened next though was a story previously told,
My umbrellas caught air like Mary Poppins,
As I floated along the coast listening to Phil Collins.
The speakers down below blast the drum section from that one song,
And I stayed up there for I don’t know how long,
But when I descended,
My pain was suspended and my emotions were splendid.
So next time, when your mind feels cloudy and your thoughts are rowdy
Ask for a drink with an umbrella
You’ll soon find yourself smiling, cheesing more than mozzarella.
Sep 18, 2023
Sep 18, 2023 at 10:29 PM UTC
Mozzarella on my Pizza just burnt my tongue
Moral of this event:
" The one you love the most is the one who hurts you the most."
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
The cheesiest thing... Is that when the parmesan and mozzarella melt, they become one.
Just like how he and I kissed at our wedding. We marry and become one soul.
We are like gruyere and onion soup... We soak ourselves in the broth of love...
When we think of each other, we are like bleu cheese and crackers, our soul complements each other.
The cheesier our love... The more our hearts melt when our eyes meet...
Our love is described by the nature of cheeses.
How some strong cheeses are complemented with the sweetest fruits, how some cheeses are worth melting for and how some cheeses are eaten just the way they are.
Just like how we fall in love when opposites attract, how someone is worth sacrificing for and how we fall in love with someone who’s just the way they are.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Dear sandwiches,
You're awesome
Everything about you
Is perfect
Your swarm white bread
Baked golden-brown in a pan of butter
Crunchy on the outside
Light as a pillow on the inside
Your lettuce
Cold and crunchy like an apple
Freshly picked
A strong base layer
The cheese
So many types
Romano, Mozzarella, Pepper Jack
Muenster, Cheddar, & American
And the meat
Oh how I love you
With your savory, salted taste
You truly are what makes a sandwich
Last, but not least, the sauce
A tangy break from the norm
Dripping from the sides
A perfect mess
Thank you sandwiches
For everything
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Same souls are an
_ island______
Eternal lamour
Perfect glamor
Flying
Transparency
Quiet breeze
Fragrance
Deep
Vichy dress
Glitter shoes
Cat eye sunglasses
Pearls ears
Coast Chekbones
Hills on her lips
Holographic lady
views
*** laude
Seductive Highness
Navy blue
Hair waves
Elegant hands
Embroidery sigh
Mozzarella lover
Prince vibrations
Coast lips
Views
*** laude
Coastal environment
Sun loungers in the sand
Outside peopleland
small views
Fortuna collapses
*** laude views
The refuge of the mermaids
Corners illuminated
Turquoise blue water
Gauze Water
We are _______ Caprisland ______
- Codelandandmore // 17:00 PM ©
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Laying in bed alone, again,
in gray boxers and a whiskey stained t-shirt,
half drunk at 3 AM.
The few rational thoughts still rattling around
are pushed aside by creeping madness,
clobbered by the disillusionment of worthlessness
and death.
Closing my eyes brings anxiety.
Fifty-foot brick walls erupt from the ground.
The walls tower over the bed.
The walls imprison me
from the beautiful, ignorantly blissful people.
THEY do not enjoy reminders of their racism,
their hatred, their greed.
When the inevitable arrives,
THEY will barely remember
the fat nobody, the over-read slob,
the abrasive writer, with no cash and
no woman.
In this sick fantasy,
two simple-minded jerks spew a few flippant lines
and that’ll be all she wrote.
‘Ever hear from Gavalik?’
‘Who?’
‘Big guy. Writer or something.’
‘I think he's dead.’
‘Really? These are some good mozzarella sticks.’
‘THEY really are.’
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC