"nosh" poems
As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility
Of a premature passing that may present itself to me
I consider and calculate
Though my conclusion may be crude
That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food
I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture
Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters
I'd take them, temptation takes its toll
Curiosity for calories that I can't control
I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em
But by now I believe it's basically boredom
Not a necessity to nibble the nosh
It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh
No, I know there is no need
To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds
Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed
Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed
Choking on choices, trembling in my chair
Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear?
Selecting such seductive sweeties
Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes?
While I wonder and weep about what will win
My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin
Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat
'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat
Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling
So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling
Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it
But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC
He was never my classmate,
Neither was he my schoolmate,
As we have met on OkCupid,
Which is where we got suited.
He soon became my tablemate,
Then got promoted to bedmate,
Ranging from late-night nosh
To some naughty oh-my-gosh.
He was my almost-roommate,
Now, a hopeful housemate,
Since he would visit me daily
And keep me company gaily.
He was frequently my seatmate,
As well as invaluable playmate,
For we traveled places together
And cloyingly wrestled each other.
He has always been my helpmate,
And is presently my best teammate,
As he has cheered me up from afar,
As we chat as if there is no au revoir.
He will one day become my inmate,
Plus my hard-working workmate,
Since we will both have mini-me’s
Forcing us to slog away on our knees.
He is undoubtedly my soulmate,
One who is to become my lifemate,
For he is a romantic yet **** geek,
A keeper with charms all too unique.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
AWESOME
Excited about our vacation
We knew it was going to cost some
But since it was to Hawaii
We were sure it would be awesome.
We went whale watching
And guess what, we saw some.
They were leaping up high
Out of the water, it was awesome.
The captain shared his tobacco.
I had always wanted to chaw some.
I hated the taste, but he didn’t.
He really believed it was awesome.
We went through a garden
And looked at each blossom.
They were beautiful to see
The colors were pretty awesome.
And the hospitality staff too,
We didn’t even have to boss ‘em.
They anticipated our wishes
They were all totally awesome.
We ended the trip with snacks
And we couldn’t wait to go nosh ‘em.
They call snacks pupus in Hawaii.
What can I say? Sort of awesome!
Brent Kincaid
4/6/2015
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters
Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed
Grids of brainwaves for the degraded
Overhead LED view is negroided
Chapter 1 Migraines;
A klaxon that grains into migraine
From there on out, strolling convulsion lane
Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely
Throe after throe I choose not to fuss
Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body,
Frequent as days turn nightly
I host the severe megrimly
Chapter 2 Vomiting;
A horendous bile builds up in my throat
Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats
Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry
Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye
Vital fluid very crimson soon came
From the cranium, I dislose, head pain
Frequent as the waves harsh blows
I host a ***** hose
Chapter 3 Tumor;
A neoplasm underneath I've found out
Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt
Below I feel like a mutant
All putant and disformed
Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste
As long as I can still haste
Crescendo and surge won't ado
Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour
I host a cyst that is sour
Chapter 4 Deaf;
An absense of all frequencies
I daze everso daily;
Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied
Missing the wind's howls that ululate,
Clamors and bellows that spoliate
I can't sight the same verbiage
Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage
Frequent as birth enfolds
I host a soundless toll
Chapter 5 Brain Cancer;
A malignant fate told today
Disease spreading like a machine,
Programmed to enquire all it knows
A gruesome and hateful dose;
Withering casually away
Grown apart of, I'm the prey
As we hunt the beasts'
An invisible naked eye is poaching
Frequent as a house infested
I host a cancerous clothing
Chapter 6 Death;
A termination soon to unfold
I am as finished and ruined as story told
Biological function ending
Senescence through spending
User maat I haven't seen all wanted
Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted
Frequent as a death anew
I host a dissolution
My evolution; through.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
Somewhere out there.
Spiders build non ending webs.
Funnels and tunnels, no trains passing through.
They scuttle as they dash through the hearth.
Where the fires of the hearts of queens once burned.
Madame summons's her lady in waiting.
To sweep away the creature she's hating.
Her ladyship is really posh.
She's eaten many you know.
Tells the world they're scrumptious nosh.
The ladies maid, collects her captured trophies in a trinket box.
Stashes them in the drawer.
The one where milady keeps her socks and hoes.
Even the hankies to wipe her regal nose.
But, once in the bluest of moons,
She melts some chocolate on a spoon.
Into the runny chocolate, the leggy hairy creatures get dunked.
Those spiders dipped in chocolate,they're tasting really great.
A little bit of protein to satisfy the queen.
Her delicacy.
Apparently!
(C) LIVVI
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
I wear pants under my trousers
A vest under my shirt
Put on trainers to go running
Use a plaster when it hurts
I walk along the pavement
Put my ******* out in bins
Dunk a biscuit in my coffee
Pick up my mobile when it rings
I wash myself with flannels
Go out for a bit of nosh
And if you're spouting nonsense
I'll say you're talking loads of tosh
When I'm knackered I need sleep
I pay the bill after a meal
And if someone's in recovery
It just means they need to heal
I use a rubber for corrections
And when life becomes a drag
I pour a glass of vino
And roll myself a ***
Is weird this common language
I'm still learning the translation
And I thank you for your patience
While I change the situation
To learn the proper lingo
Is now my only quest
So bare with the girl from Blighty
As she tries to do her best!
(C) Pixievic 2016
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Eyes tightly shut, I pretend that
not a single part of it was real—just
some kind of lucid, rotten daydream
straight out of a can
found forgotten and rusted
on the back shelf;
its contents laced
with so many preservatives,
the expiration date just hangs there
a waste of ink, ignored.
Its nutrition facts, faded,
from too many days of
denial and hope.
No, I don’t care what’s in it—
it tastes good, and
I could die tomorrow.
So I nosh on it by the spoonful,
happy for sustenance,
happy when my stomach turns,
happy, once again,
when my eyes open.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Can the skin of my lips touch again the soft suppleness of yours?
I like the euphoria that races down my spine and spreads through me like fever;
Weak and lightheaded, I am painfully vulnerable to its effect.
Giddy like a child to know you feel it too as we linger pressed together.
Can we meld again our faces and make our tongues dance?
I crave the taste of the mint that still haunts your house;
With eyes closed, I greet the endorphins with playful giggles.
Your hands clasped in mine, we brace for the onslaught of our zeal.
Can we again have our souls collide within the envelope of our breaths?
I long for the dizzy heights aloft of my infinite love of you;
Your arms around my neck forcing my head to meet yours with haste.
My hands cradling your backside, drawing our bodies yet closer together.
Can we repeat again the wordless speech, the slow mind coition?
I fancy my heart a metronome escalating a beat in syncope with your own.
A little nibble, a teasing bite, a nosh if you will, as if your silk lined set were food stuffs with gravy.
I suckle the lower lip as if it were an areolar protuberance feeding my infantile psyche.
Can I again passionately conjoin your mouth with mine, and hold you there in my thoughts?
Can I dare evoke the feelings I so wholeheartedly embrace, and return them to you with fervor?
Can we share each other in spontaneity as a hello or goodbye, again my love forever?
Please...!
Can I kiss you again?
-----ChawzzyScript
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 4:49 AM UTC
The frog glanced down at himself
and compared himself to the toad
But the toad was distracted, who
was desperately trying to cross the road.
"Don't do that in a hurry toadie, old man
You will soon be as flat as a pancake!"
Bang, smash and whollop, true to the word
he had made the fatal mistake.
The frog peeled him off the road
and flung him by the wayside.
The frog thought the situation funny
and couldn't keep a straight face if he tried.
"Charming" thought the ghost of the toad
"He will get a scare alright I'll see to that"
The toad ghost waited for the moment
and took on the form of a rat.
The giant rat alias the toad stood in front of the frog
He wriggled his tongue out in a rude way
The frog thought the rats are strange around here
and moved aside as he had nothing to say.
The frog decided to have some lunch, a nice idea
he laid out the cloth on which to dine
The rat grabbed all the nosh and said
"I think you will find all of this is mine".
"I dont see how you think that it is" said the frog.
"What in Heavens name as it got to do with you"
"Well if you had stood out of the way of traffic
while I was crossing the road, I'd have had a better view."
I would have noticed the large lorry hurtling towards me
I would have still been here to tell the tale
I'd have felt the wind, not been a ghost and my
hole would not be up for sale.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
The rivers
that oxbow
slither
down the Cumberland drain
in May
SWOLE
M-E-A-N------F-a-t-----P--R--E--G--N--A--N--T,
hungry pregnant,
walking the floor & opening the fridge pregnant,
drown your own mother for a nosh pregnant,
cantankerously mad pregnant,
flowing from car to car, truck to truck and house to house,
through crawl space, doors, and windows,
down halls, laddering stairs, licking banisters, cresting attics,
feeding, feeding, feeding, feeding
on the stacked labor of years and years,
feeding, feeding, feeding
on unbelieving minds and dumb stares,
feeding, feeding, feeding,
on "We've lost everything",
"Oh, my God."s
and tears.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 11:17 PM UTC
Met Kali today on a descending escalator at the Galleria. Her six arms juggled assorted shopping bags, purse, cell phone, three children, and a fourth in a stroller clearly not hers. I stepped down in front to help balance her baby buggy. No sooner had I reached out for the rubber bumper that I felt lash of her tongue against my cheek. It was hot and frothy, smelled like a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle, and quickly wrung itself around my neck. I was soon dangling from the precipice of an oversized potted fern where I had been perched by my assailant, high above the food court. I dangled dangerously as I saw chinks of chain giving way. The glass ceiling was begining to crack and about to cave in on me. I swung out and with all agility I could muster, landed in the Bagel Nosh's assorted schmears. Hisses and jeers decried. An angry mob of mothers chased me to the nearest exit. I almost didn't make it out alive.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
Ceremonial bell tolls reverberate in suspense
While a flock of ravens sweep the murky skies
The mental state of the land is glaringly tense
As the caws of the crows create eerie lullabies
Unearthly howls reverberate through the Earth
Ceaselessly piercing the ears of all those living
This dark eve will cast forth a very sadistic birth
Of the creatures that run all of Hell unforgiving
Zombies will seize the bodies of the deceased
Ghouls will torment all lost souls as examples
Werewolves will help more souls be released
As Vampires do nosh each being as sampled
A New Dark Era on Earth is now soon to begin
With the Creatures of Darkness harvesting Sin
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
Down the entry ..up we ran
Fighting ,shouting, laughing cans
Days of old where nothing mattered
Play outside until ya shattered
Knock on doors and make a scarper
Light a banger .. could n be dafter
Chase ya mates on bikes all rusty
Pulling wheelies ...fetching plasters
Build a den from scraps of wood
Hide for ages till its grub
Bottles sought to take to shop
Swap for sweeties gobs that stop
Not a phone nor worried sight
When you turn up late at night
Eat ya nosh see Kojak chase
Fire lit ya in dads place
Jimmy's on all snuggled in
flick 3 channels theres nothing on
Of to bed with ***** feet
Only bath time once a week
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:10 AM UTC
Sleeps a myth.
Red eyed, at 3:00 super markets
I’m there just because their open
Four cups of coffee and a dollar tea
I’m not any thing.
The only light be the moon and the blue smoke laces
Of cigarettes and the flashback glasses
Three phone calls and I answer everyone
He pleads desperately for words I don’t have
And for word I have no way of knowing
Nosh on a truck stop sandwich and try to find the watershed of my back days
Dreams in the dunk take that lead me to this bed without comfort
Contemplate connections concerning the girl whose half work knowing
I go home
It is 4’Oclock
A good and godless hour
But I want faith
Thinking back, yesterday was the start of today
Make that four phone calls, a rerun
Make that five phone calls, a rerun
Casablanca and a warm blanket
Problem is it’s hot out
“play it again Sam“. The phone rings.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 2:04 AM UTC
Sleeps a myth.
Red eyed, at 3:00 super markets
I’m there just because their open
Four cups of coffee and a dollar tea
I’m not any thing.
The only light be the moon and the blue smoke laces
Of cigarettes and the flashback glasses
Three phone calls and I answer everyone
He pleads desperately for words I don’t have
And for word I have no way of knowing
Nosh on a truck stop sandwich and try to find the watershed of my back days
Dreams in the dunk take that lead me to this bed without comfort
Contemplate connections concerning the girl whose half work knowing
I go home
It is 4’Oclock
A good and godless hour
But I want faith
Thinking back, yesterday was the start of today
Make that four phone calls, a rerun
Make that five phone calls, a rerun
Casablanca and a warm blanket
Problem is it’s hot out
“play it again Sam“. The phone rings.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 2:03 AM UTC
There is an owl on the gate and he is singing “tu whit tu whoo”
He is not sure whether he is at Chelsea or indeed at Kew.
He knew here there were well to do types
He also knew that bamboo was green and had stripes.
There were ladies dressed in white Broderie Anglais
Most of which were covered in Italian Spaghetti Bolognese.
Somebody said “Oh I do really beg your pardon
I do like a good nosh up in your garden”.
Some preferred a patch with movement and flow
on the other hand stuff hadn’t chance to grow.
Some folk needed style, imagination and some shape
And all that some required was a simple landscape.
One chap needed mud and a garden full of sweet roses
Rather a contrast but his stuff just decomposes.
Most were impressed with the Chelsea Flower Show
And they all shot off to see what they could plant and grow.
Magnificent!
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
over the Christmas period
we tend to eat too much nosh
our bellies feel like they've been hit
with a heavy food cosh
it is advisable to consume
just the right amount of grub
as our stomachs don't want to be like
an over full bath tub
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
i pluck a patch of flesh from my torso laid before me
microscopic angles never did too much 'cept bore me
i ponder at it as i watch it turn to plastic waste
and toss it to the side to join its kin, the long disgraced
i dive headfirst into the pile
thinking out loud all the while
what the **** you've done to me
to make me loathe such harmony
a call to arms is horrifying
as it harms the glorifying
capitalizing, profiteering
bourgeoisie world engineering
i eat my path through all the **** the world has given to me
i see my comrades scoff and nosh and drink their minds all dreamy
the world is coming down to see itself through all its trash
it's still convinced it's beautiful through all the camera flash
you will die, but so will i
it'll be a work of art
like none before, no final score
and time will not restart
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Kafka’s Coffee Cup
A poor petitioner spoke unto a grille;
His need was simple, coffee ‘gainst the dawn.
A voice metallic, disembodied, chill
Chanted a liturgy through the speaker ‘phone:
“And would you like some sweetener with that?
Sugar? Or chemicals, yellow or pink?
Creamer, perhaps, no gluten and no fat;
The selection is yours; what do you think?
“And, oh, yes, would you like to supersize
Your order with a little bit of nosh?
A doughnuts or bagel, some curly fries,
Or a croissant with cream cheese, by gosh!”
(The reader pauses, then speaks the last two lines slowly)
Years passed, as did this tale of Kafka’s woe:
He died while waiting for that cup of joe.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
There is an owl on the gate and he is singing “tu whit tu whoo”
He is not sure whether he is at Chelsea or indeed at Kew.
The Pig knew here there were well to do types
He also knew that bamboo was green and had stripes.
There were ladies dressed in white Broderie Anglais
The Pig was vile covered in Italian Spaghetti Bolognese.
The Pig said “Oh I do really beg your pardon
I do like a good nosh up in your garden”.
The Duck preferred a patch with movement and flow
The Pig on the other hand stuff hadn’t chance to grow.
The Duck needed style, imagination and some shape
And all that the Pig required was a simple landscape.
The Pig needed mud and a garden full of sweet roses
Rather a contrast but his stuff just decomposes.
Both were impressed with the Chelsea Flower Show
And shot off to see what they could plant and grow.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
Now, come along and get there from nearby.
I have a chapel for you to breathe in
and smoked walleye to nosh with fennel
and braised ivy, clutching the flanks of my house.
I can offer you a golden block of Amsterdam
stapled to Achilles' Heel, and a punch bowl
spiked with lavender nettles... and the kettle black
mocking the other black thing.
Now come along and get there, from nearby.
we need hardly talk at all, and i would have you serene -
in the fecund emporium of both our outrageous spittoons.
we give water to the effort we make.... we push rivers uphill.
and the both of us matter, as much as the least of us
do not.
we carry the weight of a sprint
like a gallon at rest.
i see from here, that you are sleeping as we speak.
dream this way.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC