"pancake" poems
Addiction *****
It's such a killer
Addictions fun
A raging thriller
Weathers its a bag of twack
Or a fat green sack
It doesn't really matter
You could shoot pancake batter
**** or ****
*** with Beth
Just remember its not fiction
That disease you have is called addiction
See it works in such a horrid way
It controls you'r thoughts and what you say
And when it comes down to the end of the day
You probably going to do what it takes to pay
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:31 AM UTC
I'm craving for food,
maybe some eggs
or waffles.
Maybe a bacon on the side
and a sausage.
A huge pancake
with a lot of syrup,
strawberries and bananas on the top.
A piece of bread
with ham and cheese inside of it.
A side of fruits of different kinds ,
chocolate
or an apple pie.
A big glass of juice,
it could be orange or cranberry.
The cup of coffee... Oh, I want a cup of coffee.
I want something that makes me feel better
in this cold and hungry morning.
Why not everything mixed?
Why not make a big breakfast buffet?
Scrambled eggs,
waffles with bacon,
pancakes,
the sweet syrup,
some delicious strawberries
and bananas as a topping,
a mini sandwich,
fruits with chocolate
and another dessert.
The glass of juice for the end,
the lovely cup of coffee to begin.
I want to do a breakfast party, I'm starving.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
This is not poetry
This simply spoken on earthen tombs
Or was it tomes
Or was that tunes
If it was then it wasn't
Because the past is the future and the present is but a thinned out pancake of a reality
Double bongo tulip termination
Implied with the finger-ly pleasure
Upon my love's blackened buttons
Drunkenness sensibility declining reeling sealing the post-operative convolution of Tarzan's missing breath
Target, TARGET, (target)
Reckless love leapin' side' a train-station tumor
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
The dough in the pizza pan
Becomes my heart.
And with my hand, my fist,
I strike it and flatten it.
I force it to change,
Plaster it into limp pancake.
With my palm I knead it,
But the pain which should ebb out,
Will not separate and flow away.
It stays inside the dough,
The flattened,
Moulded,
Hand-mangled dough!
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Vanilla. Nation's favourite. In fact the world's favourite
flavour. So very versatile. From Mr. Whippy's with a
cheap chocolate flake, next to a warm apple
crumble, on a pancake or in a milkshake.
From hot days by the sea side to the
perfect ending of Sunday lunch
and every occasion in betwe-
en. The creamy, comfor-
ting deliciousness
I once fell
in love
with.
But now I prefer the
irresistible, amber, nutty explosion
of Butterscotch. My tongue [mind] craves it!
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 9:19 PM UTC
"Have you talked to dad,
since you've been at school?"
"Nope."
"Are you coming home
for thanksgiving?"
"I don't know."
Josephina
breathes in a crackle
over the phone.
New York,
a cacophony
in the background.
A background of cold,
and
people talking
while walking
while hailing a yellowcab with a left
and slow-rolling heads locked
onto the phones in their right.
These people enter taxis,
not knowing if they're ever
going to reach home,
or the airport,
or union square,
just going
on the promise
that they won't become
road-kill.
I can't feel it in my yellow apartment.
If anything,
my yellowcab
idles.
Through the receiver
A squad car
rings nervously,
then
after a lungful
of garbage-smelling air,
it becomes a full blare.
A pause
of
noise
always ensues,
just for a second,
the entire corner
becomes a silent silo
of human beings.
"How's new york?"
"you know,
dad called me
and asked about
how to get on a diet,
can you believe that?"
Yes,
I can
dad is a fat ****
a pink, white belly
of a man. And a few
sandbags for chins.
"That's good."
"So I'm not going to see you?"
"Probably not."
"Well, you should call dad,
talk to him,
he loves
you."
Some conversations,
acheive nothing.
The same
tired, dead things
get run over.
Road-kill.
Josephina believes she is the spatula
that will bring back
pancake squirrels
and
pancake relationships.
As much as you don't know
about me and dad's relationship,
I can give you a kodak moment.
A snapshot,
of a hovering man,
pointing at his son's neck,
searching for the misplaced vertebrae,
the lack
of fear for the world
--"the right kind of fear,
the fear a man
should have
of himself"--
and a son,
hunched,
small hands in fists,
a heavy haul of muscles
pulled into a dark brow
right over black eyes.
This picture
will suffice.
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 4:59 PM UTC
.*if, and however many mistakes i made in typo... attempting to compete with Spawn, using the black panther... ****** please... it's like that "healthy" competition of butter, using margarine... Black Panther isn't Spawn... Spawn is... Spawn... yeah... thanks for ruining my 12" wish fetish... i was so dying... to... i was never going to **** an English girl to begin with... thank god.*
you're seriously going
to "correct" me
using black panther....
seriously?
spawn was the ********
to what....
to whatever you're
doing these days....
i don't want to be
the blank panther...
**** being black panther...
************
i want to be *spawn"..
******* quasi-nigger...
john coltrane...
you a mariah carey
back-up singer or some
otherwise alien whacky
alien-backlog?
compared to spawn...
the black panther
looks like a ******* ******
wing guy...
for what's deemed
12"...
black...
mire like bleak Parthenon...
some columns,
no spirals...
waste of time...
black Panther, what?
so Spawn...
was just a waste of time?
Spawn was the gran-daddy
where the Batman was the daddy
given the Joker
was the gran-gran-daddy...
you get me?
Miles Davis too much for you?
the blank panther is such
a ***** move...
it's like... come Kosovo...
when expecting Sarajevo...
****** this **** will not
stick...
high flying ****
if you think this will become
a ******* pancake...
no, ******
take your blank panther back
to Yakanda, or whatever...
your Spawn was cooler than
Lego Batman...
**** your white *****
and leave me to my existentialism
of... making a "heroic" exit..
akin to Elvis...
but more or less minding
Roy Orbison in a sing along.
p.s.
lego batman movie quote:
black panther *****
spawn go go go! spammy!
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
So sleep doesn't come to me
But perhaps it has found you fine,
And that's fine.
I hope that you're fine
But my thoughts now unwind in confusion intertwined with illusion can I find what intrusion made you draw the line to place a sign and say to my face,
"This is over. Good luck in college, good luck in life, *** I will not be there tomorrow or tonight, corazon."
And you loved me yesterday,
And today is just yesterday with a different name
Does that mean your love was labelled
And now the label has been changed?
*** yesterday we spoke of what our futures held in store
For the both of us together, holding hands amidst the roar
And the dark of the unknown glazed with ice across the floor;
It was that; "Goodnight, kittycat;" what strange coincidence as my heart sang the night before
And now it's sore.
What a difference 24 hours makes;
Was it my mistakes? Or just the lake of tears and sorrow and how often your heart breaks?
*** I knew I really loved you when my first concern became,
"I hope that she's ******* alright!"
That thought drove me insane.
And there was no response,
The receiver remained on the hook.
Her cell-phone thumbed with call display,
But 'decline' is all it took.
She broke my heart with 1, 2, 3
and now questions seep my bones.
Making sleep impossible,
She could have picked up the phone
And said, "I'm sorry. I really am, you understand this is just as hard
For me as well, I really do love you,
I'm simply more than marred."
But silence was the answer that I got
With my shocked glance.
In my mind stirs feelings that perhaps there is a chance
In fact, a truth that there's no way I could have lost you yet.
Not like this,
Not this abyss
With such finality.
This was so much more than that
In my reality.
I hope you turn around and regain your sanity
Because I miss you and although I've made mistakes, I've realized
Real eyes realize real lies
And what we had was honest truth.
So before you give up on me and you
On both of us;
Please consider what you're giving up,
Because I trust
You'll figure all this out in time
And if space is what you want;
I understand,
But please don't forget of what we were,
I can wait, I just wish it weren't all such a blur.
I love you, and I'm still your waffle
I hope that you know that
And I can be your patient
Silent
Waiting kittycat.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
.*i'm still an advocate of caesarean section... i believe in animal rights... it's just plain cruel exposing a European ****** to a pan-African phallus of a fetus head **** isn't it **** "technically"? **** me... forget the ******** **** the latex... the ****** ******* one pregnant women ************ and talking Freudian implosion will do.*
personally? i hardly think
******** **** is what men turn
to when excavating
***********
ever watched
pregnant
women
************
while filming themselves?!
ever watch pregnant women
film
themselves ************
ever?
in the beginning there
was the word,
and the word was god...
you hear the talking
of pregnant woman ************
**** me...
who the hell needs ******** ***
when you can **** off
to a pregnant woman...
jerking off, talking *****
paradoxes of Freud
about her yet to be born
son
watching her **********
who the hell needs
******** ****
just watch a pregnant woman **********
oath of god...
hand on my heart...
it doesn't actually encompass a
desire for intricacies of latex...
just a pregnant woman
************
*** mad... *** mad...
*** mad...
******* *** mad as hell...
Freud? pale as an uncooked
pancake dough...
the **** that comes out
from the mouth of a pregnant
woman ************
believe me...
i ****** off to one of them doing it
helpless.
nice try... thinking
a man would turn to ********
***********
can't turn to more ********
****
than a pregnant woman,
************
while talking, Oedipal,
*****
try... try, ******
try to bash that fact out
of existence!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
His body lost temperature as he pressed himself against the chest of hers, seducing her with his love.
With his sleepy **** voice, he hums her romantic morning lullabies.
The gray walls of the room soon embosomed with gleaming hearts of their beauteous lust and speedy soft breaths, leaving nothing more but powder blushes of crimson on her flowery cheeks in the springtime dawn.
The honeyed lust in the veins lit the bodies of two lovers like candles into eternal flames of romance.
Under the chocolate brown duvets,
Milky fragrances of the tea dances along the bare hands of two lovers,
while he serves breakfast on bed to her in an old-fashioned way.
Bleak morning mist tango around the vitreous skins of scratched windows,
as fat hummingbirds' tinkling giggles paint beyond the nature's smiley meadows,
sending a major abundance of lovable freedom and glee to the people.
In the bathtub,
Velvety calyx of dreamlover rose flows smoothly through the silk water.
They shower each other and let warmth grasp their naked body.
He kissed her dancing soul of chasms out
and tie uncountable amount of butterfly knots to her pancake stomach.
His abilities of heart possessions had captured the universe's breath.
*Nothing has changed since day number one, everything is iridescent.
Everything is swimming in a magical pool of scarred perfections.*
As the sun sets to the west,
The undarkened nightfall sings lulling melodies and let its harmonic fire burn the skies.
The shadows of their love whirl out unstoppable romance that vanished away void hopes and pain.
The lover's spirits echo and echo into spring gorges and dashing rivers,
Feeding darkness with lucent fragments of light.
Oh they were only two humans in love...
Or only a size of two negligible lovedust in the mystical galaxies...
But their endless love never fails to deluge the world with drizzling tears.
A facile spark of romance can be an amazing set of fireworks that creates indiscernible fruitful happiness.
Who in the world could resist this unpredictable power of their spingtime love?
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
The pancake sizzles
on the extremely hot pan
sticky sweet syrup
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
One night
I was a werewolf,
but that got out of hand.
One night
you were a peach,
but I preferred fresh
over canned.
The blood scent was strong
and on your collar,
or was it spaghetti sauce?
We meandered in
the lost city of angels,
but those women
in the maternity ward
were better shape-shifters.
Couldn't see if the moon
was full against
the polluted skyline,
(but I bet it wasn't).
Then somewhere
down the tracks,
the howler (that's you),
half a dream away
on some deserted block,
and flat on your back
like a pancake,
with the nightmares
stacking up,
and dripping
with strawberry syrup.
Or was it blood?
(I bet it wasn't).
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 8:28 PM UTC
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes bowl full of jelly.
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes in my belly.
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes so good to eat.
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes what a nice treat.
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes all around.
Pancakes Pancakes Pancakes can you hear that sound???????
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
Sweetness
Dawn breaks
He wakes with
Me on his mind.
Licking his lips
A craving exists
Sugary and hot combined.
His warming hands
So warm and inviting
After many hours under the sheets.
Reach out and wrap around me
Pulling me near
Our eyes meet.
He flips my world
Upside down
Stirring me up.
Spreading me
Lapping up my every honey drop
As if I was pancake syrup.
He squeezes me gently
He touches me
Until I explode
I provide him a mouthful of sweetness
Satisfying his needs.
I leave him in happy mode.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Passion is simple.
Passion is tipsy talks with your best friend on a saturday night,
passion is sleepy sunday mornings waking up beside someone you care about.
Passion is spelling your name in the air with sparklers on new years,
passion is a pancake breakfast on christmas morning.
Passion is stargazing in the countryside,
passion is not really knowing much about constellations but always being able to find the big dipper no matter where in the world you are.
Passion is laughs that make you cry,
passion is crying all night until you have no more tears left.
Passion is waking up at six am to watch the sun rise,
passion is napping in the afternoon sunlight.
Passion is watching a thunderstorm on your front porch,
passion is the smell after it rains.
Passion is not knowing where you want to go but knowing you are going somewhere,
passion is simple.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
Asked to write a poem of yellow, what could I possibly have to add that would celebrate this word found within the sun, the moon, at times, the stripes of a bumblebee, a butterfly, a yellow jacket's sting, the brilliant splash on a painted bunting, the goldfinch, canary, a yellow breasted warbler, baby chicks, a rubber duck, a baby duck, too, a dandelion in spring, a sunflower, a rose of sorts, a lily, daffodils in a field of wheat, rubber boots upon your feet on a rainy day, a slicker, too, a school bus, a number two pencil, a taxi when you're running late, a tangy lemon, a banana, sometimes a grapefruit, butter on a pancake, egg yolk for your western omlet, lemon drops, cheese, macicheese, and a cheese pizza, too, yellow hair on a farm boy, a piece of straw in his father's mouth, his yellow-haired beautiful sis, her yellow polka-dotted dress, a yellow kitten, a dog in a sad movie like old yeller.
So nice, the color yellow, on a sunny day in May.
r ~ 5/3/14
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
The cafe has many familiar smells and sounds,
I can buy my coffee there by the pound,
The cafe has fresh bread baking,
Homemade pies they are in the process of making.
The cafe allows me to sit and drink my coffee in peace,
At the counter sits the police,
The cafe has such wonderful smells,
Mr. Jones waves and lets us know he’s doing well.
The cafe sales pies by the slice,
It’s a place I can go get advice,
The cafe is a friendly place in my hometown,
It serves the best fried chicken around.
The cafe is where all my friends like to gather,
Mrs. Smith’s in the kitchen making fresh pancake batter,
The cafe is where the kids grow up,
The kids who never leave town get stuck.
The cafe houses simple town folks,
You can get your favorite ice cream float,
The cafe stays close to my heart,
Right here is where I got my start.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
When the fat vegan says she’s a vegan no one believes her
People offer her chocolate to see if she’ll crack
Fat and vegan aren’t words that coincide
It’s like a pancake covered in hot sauce
Unnatural
When the fat vegan walks into the grocery store to buy some produce people think good she needs it
But fat vegan doesn’t feel fat
She likes her shirt tucked in
Sleeves short
Shorts on
The fat vegan loves apple slices and kale salad long showers and a purple lipstick.
Fat vegan eats what she likes
She feels dainty and light
Finally small
Rightfully at home in a sweatshirt
Fat vegan floats through the world as the woman she longs to resemble
But on the inside
Reality creeps back in front of her only in a side glance in a window,
A judgment from a stranger.
Fat vegan has been taught to fit in not stretch out taking up more space is selfish being loud is obnoxious living a magnificent life is too loud
But fat vegan dreams of endless love and long walks
She finally learns what love means
Being happy on the inside defiant of the world
She knows how strong she is so she continues to float through the world
A
fat
Happy
vegan
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
the cosmos exudes from between our toes
trails of nebula and spiral arm galaxies
burden the floor with their scented residue
of caramel complexion on mint cream -
expectations fall to the wayside
as the wayside falls to expectations
trust in the infallible,
if the world ( is to me )
saved from the virtuous vindication's of a pacifier society
run to the nearest tree and sway with the blustering breeze !
for the cosmos exudes between our toes
trails of nebula and spiral arm galaxies litter the floor
tell me a tale of who i am ,
yet i know i have not felt myself in my fullness.
for i was born before the cosmos could take her first steps
or the sparkling sun stars could take their first light
i am neither the mountain nor the valley in depth
but within both i am sure to reside ~
out of my womb cascades a waterfall of pixie dust to the glee of several a man .
yet i always had wondered why none stuck around to hear from the well versed band.
I was quite sure the depths that i knew how to love
would create a whirlwind of sorts
enhanced by the glow of a dark purple blue rose , i’m not quite the type for rose quartz
to spend my love ***** nilly , a silly endeavor indeed
not all can handle the burn as i am
Light Sky ,
a fire filled sky ,
i am the sunrise dripping from the heavens in mellow tones of yellow and pink , i am the solar eclipse, sacred geometry in motion
and by association
i am the high tide moon shine get you drunk off one look sunset in the desert , dark purple blue rose kinda lady.
and you ,
my earth breeze , can whistle up a tune to jam with me , like no one would ever believe..
The cosmos that exudes between our toes
stacked layer upon layer
like a pancake tower
are the places we go to when the world
closes it’s eyes.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
dont call me a pancake,
i am not a flap jack.
i have pockets for syrup and butter,
and i am obviously hacked.
i can be made into flavors and be savory,
or remain sweet and sugary unbearable.
But--
no matter what you want to call me,
i am a waffle, a baked piece of yum,
so give them one or two...
and dont be the fool.
because its the tool that makes it go...
straight to your lips and eventually to someones hips.
so bake me, shake up the flavor...
stack me into a cake and slice me up,
but when the steam stops...
i am full of love.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
1. i watched you eradicate the ruby roses from your
skin with razors, you told me they just needed to be set
free, they were just doves in a cage needing freedom.
2. i heard that hibernation lasts only during winter
but it's spring, doesn't the flowers learn to pick up
their spines to the sun and reach for the skies?
3. i'm not sure which part of my heart is revealed to
you, but it must be a revolting sight. my apologies.
4. my heart is 50% happy/ 50% sad like living at the
bottom of the world, where i get night time six months
a year and day time six months a year.
5. this web you've strung me in has me tangled in semi-
impossible knots but i would take all the time in the world
to detangle the vines from you and let you continue growing.
6. the weight of my heavy armory prevented me from swimming
in the sickening waters, so i screamed "forget me not" at you. i'm
not so sure you heard me or if you just ignored my screams.
7. your pianists fingers let me slip through your fingers slowly
like motor oil or pancake syrup, but i'm sure you washed off
the parts of me that stuck onto your fingers.
8. HERE IS YOUR ULTIMATUM: LEAVE OR STAY.
9. survival relies on the fittest, but i'm anything but fit
for helping you survive. let me bandage every scar, even
though you're not going to be the same person afterwards.
10. forever is an overused term, but i will never forget the
side of you that shined the brightest and made the sun jealous.
- kra
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Look,
one day,
it’s all
going to happen
to you.
You’ll wake up one morning
and skin your knee
for the
very first time.
You’ll jump
into your best friend’s
pool
in the middle
of winter
just to feel the
cold.
You’ll fall asleep
drunk
in someone’s
backyard
on cheap *****
that sticks
to your fingers
like pancake syrup,
and burns
like the hell
you’ll feel
the first time
you realize
he doesn’t love you
back.
Your life
will be full
of
laughter
and
heartache
and
temper tantrums
from not getting your way
at 5
and age 25.
But baby girl,
if you’re lucky,
and since you’re
your mother’s daughter,
you will be,
your life will be bursting
at the seams
with all the stars
shores
and peanut butter cups
your little body
can hold.
Maybe you’ll
grow up
and save
the world.
Maybe
you’ll slam
your car door
when you leave
and break my
heart.
Or maybe you’ll be
like me,
awake at all hours
writing down words
for someone
who doesn’t yet
exist.
But no matter
which path
you choose,
know that
I’ll always
be at the end of it
waiting for you
with sweets
and bandaids
in hand.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC
but we’re only human.
when it comes into something you’re truly passionate
it’s even easier to make a snap judgement.
if it were me however
I would have never made it this far
I never bothered going in for a closer inspection.
That’s right, in my own flawed and jaded ” been there, done that” mindset
As it turns out, very.
I’ll be the first to admit that
while I consider myself to have a rather smiley pallet
open mindedness can occasionally be on short reverse.
Fortunately fate would give me another chance to get up close this faith
and after the recommendation from a friend I did a little web minning.
The more I discovered about the faith the further my foot traveled into my mouth.
When I finally finished off my last slice of humble pancake
I realized that the only acceptable way to right my wrong
would be head to the place were its all start.
When I first saw the faith
it was still shocking, how shinny it was
and still.
Even with my ‘vast knowledge’ of all things people I thought it was surely a cover.
But that’s just another item we can add to the “thing I was wrong about” list.
The advantages of this process compared to conventional talking are vast
primarily the ability to talking virtually anything.
but as easy as it is to get carried away by the impressive exterior of fake smile
there’s more to it.
if you’ll pardon my ridiculous pun
but it has been given a kick in the pants.
Speaking of driving hard, that’s exactly what the ‘cranky’ guy doing with his car
everyday since he just 9 years old.
There’s nothing I like more than a car
ok, I also put on cakes and cat into the list.
But what’s the point. that was me
not you or anybody else.
I must say it’s been a while since I misjudged people so badly
but certainly there is a lesson to be learned, no?
What I thought to be a run-for-the-cover behavior is really anything
but and my first impression has now been well and truly erased.
it’s not some untalkable harebrained concept and its not sitting around in a warehouse collecting dust. it’s doing exactly what a guy should be - it’s being driven its way.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC