"schnitzel" poems - Hello Poetry

Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.

0

Dec 18, 2017

Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC

jcthefluteman

Mary had a little lamb

Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.

60

Ketchup on French Fries and big juicy Burgers All kinds of Candy just loaded with Sugars Cold Beer and Pizza and Buffalo Wings These are a few of my favorite things! Cream in my Coffee with Crisp Apple Strudels Spaghetti and Meatballs and Schnitzel with Noodles Warm Pecan Pie with a Scoop of Ice Cream These are the foods that I see when I dream! Chocolate Cupcakes with Caramel Icing Cookies and Brownies and Fudge – so enticing Turkey and Dressing and anything Fried If I say these aren’t favorite foods then I’ve lied! When the scale breaks, when my clothes shrink, when I’m feelng fat, I simply forego all my favorite foods And then I don’t feel so Bad!

0

Mar 2, 2015

Mar 2, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC

phil-lindsey

My Favorite Foods (a Parody)

Ketchup on French Fries and big juicy Burgers All kinds of Candy just loaded with Sugars Cold Beer and Pizza and Buffalo Wings These are a few of my favorite things! Cream in my Coffee with Crisp Apple Strudels Spaghetti and Meatballs and Schnitzel with Noodles Warm Pecan Pie with a Scoop of Ice Cream These are the foods that I see when I dream! Chocolate Cupcakes with Caramel Icing Cookies and Brownies and Fudge – so enticing Turkey and Dressing and anything Fried If I say these aren’t favorite foods then I’ve lied! When the scale breaks, when my clothes shrink, when I’m feelng fat, I simply forego all my favorite foods And then I don’t feel so Bad!

15

as i said before, the real active ingredient in cigarettes is not nicotine, nicotine is the flavoursome bit, the real active ingredient is carbon monoxide, the thing that spins your head a little on the first cigarette of the day. oh god my nicotine hangovers are worse than my alcohol hangovers, i get this cough when waking that makes schnitzel from my lungs on the cough up (you'd think it was tuberculosis), but recedes once enough active ingregient in my addiction is inhaled... but the odd thing is... when by odd chance i do get the classical hangover with a headache... my nicotine hangover is not apparent, i don't cough... and i cure this hangover by not trying to think, thinking and brain pain don't work together... so i lie in bed, sing some rammstein and later drink enough coffee for the caffeine cure of increasing blood pressure / blood flow; or the classical hangover could be due to the fact that i was headbanging to sepultura's ratamahatta... any coin flip is just as good to explain this scenario.

0

Dec 3, 2015

Dec 3, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

nicotine hangover

as i said before, the real active ingredient in cigarettes is not nicotine, nicotine is the flavoursome bit, the real active ingredient is carbon monoxide, the thing that spins your head a little on the first cigarette of the day. oh god my nicotine hangovers are worse than my alcohol hangovers, i get this cough when waking that makes schnitzel from my lungs on the cough up (you'd think it was tuberculosis), but recedes once enough active ingregient in my addiction is inhaled... but the odd thing is... when by odd chance i do get the classical hangover with a headache... my nicotine hangover is not apparent, i don't cough... and i cure this hangover by not trying to think, thinking and brain pain don't work together... so i lie in bed, sing some rammstein and later drink enough coffee for the caffeine cure of increasing blood pressure / blood flow; or the classical hangover could be due to the fact that i was headbanging to sepultura's ratamahatta... any coin flip is just as good to explain this scenario.

26

I am from the old world From over the waters I am from old houses Majestic, kings and Celtics I am from Mountains and Lakes Mozart, Music, Stereotypes I am from red-white-red And what once was a monastery I am from skiing, snow and sunshine From Schnitzel and pasta I am from almost Espresso And people speaking fast I am from languages (Servus, Srečno, Ciao) I am from a house with a mom And a brother, little me I am from a family with 4+21 I am from a field, tough but still a passion And rivers with the moonlight I am from climbing And the top of the world I am from kilometers and kilograms And from long nights I am from Rap And the school where it’s never quiet I am from a mother That says goodbye with the wings of a bird And white roses I am from a dad that helps me keep focused On the important parts of life I am from singing people That I left over the clouds Far away

0

Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC

matteo-christofl

Where I'm From

I am from the old world From over the waters I am from old houses Majestic, kings and Celtics I am from Mountains and Lakes Mozart, Music, Stereotypes I am from red-white-red And what once was a monastery I am from skiing, snow and sunshine From Schnitzel and pasta I am from almost Espresso And people speaking fast I am from languages (Servus, Srečno, Ciao) I am from a house with a mom And a brother, little me I am from a family with 4+21 I am from a field, tough but still a passion And rivers with the moonlight I am from climbing And the top of the world I am from kilometers and kilograms And from long nights I am from Rap And the school where it’s never quiet I am from a mother That says goodbye with the wings of a bird And white roses I am from a dad that helps me keep focused On the important parts of life I am from singing people That I left over the clouds Far away

33

*whenever i drink with friends, i wake up the next morning thinking i had a midlife crisis and bought a yacht with my debit card, given that i was using the card on 3.50 pints of guinness.* a loveless scene, that is, full of laughter and itemisation of the surroundings - in an adams’ family house type of pub with gargantuan pillars and more expanding lung space than in an asthmatic convention the troopers gathered for talk of almost anything. one was giving into the psychological testament of “stealing the show,” playing on the whole social aspect of respecting the presence of strangers - a william blake quote was heard - but since it wasn’t properly quoted the suggestion was: don’t quote poetry verbatim within a millimetre off precision, it’ll show you’re not a poet, plus the listener will not investigate something that’s quoted perfectly. the quote: had anger with my friend, told my anger my anger did end. hand anger with my enemy, didn’t tell it, my anger grew, found my enemy dead by the apple tree. the prompt for all this? pears, we were talking with pears in mind. - we’re talking drinking after a bottle of brandy and three beers having walked the distance between romford and seven kings. - all throughout it was concerning to look at the old man and two frisky girls - we’re talking: are we really going to be the young philosophers? all the old men in our age are corrupt, i wouldn’t trust them with a pen let alone a sword - so while the youth languished the old man took to the girls - but i laughed on purpose to peacock myself into the eyesight of one, in the end, i got as close as getting her to go outside, kissing her hand and forehead and doing some māori hongi, but then she started with auschwitz dating dynamics: number! nummer! schnell schnell! oh right... my house no. 01708766... that’s as far as we got, before she lost interest and i ended up walking home with a traffic sign signature’d by my fist; that’s how i practice, hoping for an even connection between my index and pinky knuckle; and now? now i’m going to drink a stale 7% with a cigarette **** in it, cough up a saliva schnitzel and wear sunglasses.

0

Sep 29, 2015

Sep 29, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

a clown without makeup

*whenever i drink with friends, i wake up the next morning thinking i had a midlife crisis and bought a yacht with my debit card, given that i was using the card on 3.50 pints of guinness.* a loveless scene, that is, full of laughter and itemisation of the surroundings - in an adams’ family house type of pub with gargantuan pillars and more expanding lung space than in an asthmatic convention the troopers gathered for talk of almost anything. one was giving into the psychological testament of “stealing the show,” playing on the whole social aspect of respecting the presence of strangers - a william blake quote was heard - but since it wasn’t properly quoted the suggestion was: don’t quote poetry verbatim within a millimetre off precision, it’ll show you’re not a poet, plus the listener will not investigate something that’s quoted perfectly. the quote: had anger with my friend, told my anger my anger did end. hand anger with my enemy, didn’t tell it, my anger grew, found my enemy dead by the apple tree. the prompt for all this? pears, we were talking with pears in mind. - we’re talking drinking after a bottle of brandy and three beers having walked the distance between romford and seven kings. - all throughout it was concerning to look at the old man and two frisky girls - we’re talking: are we really going to be the young philosophers? all the old men in our age are corrupt, i wouldn’t trust them with a pen let alone a sword - so while the youth languished the old man took to the girls - but i laughed on purpose to peacock myself into the eyesight of one, in the end, i got as close as getting her to go outside, kissing her hand and forehead and doing some māori hongi, but then she started with auschwitz dating dynamics: number! nummer! schnell schnell! oh right... my house no. 01708766... that’s as far as we got, before she lost interest and i ended up walking home with a traffic sign signature’d by my fist; that’s how i practice, hoping for an even connection between my index and pinky knuckle; and now? now i’m going to drink a stale 7% with a cigarette **** in it, cough up a saliva schnitzel and wear sunglasses.

41

Daddy: I did not know you well/except for the suits you wore they were always well tailored in the color blue would it be okay if I told you how much I miss you...? You always smelled of Black Jack gum I remember running up to you when you came home sometimes you smelled of *** n' I was barely four but I remember uttering the words, "gum-gum" Daddy, I loved you so much... why did you have to leave/why did we lose touch? I loved the letters you used to send when I left for college I thought my life would end... but you wrote humorous lines about long dog your wiener schnitzel pet... you always made up stories about some guy named "Chet" I'm so sorry I didn't get to say goodbye-- I wished and wished... the day I found out you had died... it was a bad joke/a terrible lie... I love you Daddy...if you can hear me up there I hope Tigger n' Lion's are fly'n everywhere just like the stories you told me every night... before you tucked me in bed with my baby bear... n' you brushed my hair... you always said, "Papa loves you... Tiger, you sleep tight... now you just go... n' let your dreams take flight"

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC

krisselle-s-cosgrove

"For My Father" by, Krisselle S. Cosgrove

Daddy: I did not know you well/except for the suits you wore they were always well tailored in the color blue would it be okay if I told you how much I miss you...? You always smelled of Black Jack gum I remember running up to you when you came home sometimes you smelled of *** n' I was barely four but I remember uttering the words, "gum-gum" Daddy, I loved you so much... why did you have to leave/why did we lose touch? I loved the letters you used to send when I left for college I thought my life would end... but you wrote humorous lines about long dog your wiener schnitzel pet... you always made up stories about some guy named "Chet" I'm so sorry I didn't get to say goodbye-- I wished and wished... the day I found out you had died... it was a bad joke/a terrible lie... I love you Daddy...if you can hear me up there I hope Tigger n' Lion's are fly'n everywhere just like the stories you told me every night... before you tucked me in bed with my baby bear... n' you brushed my hair... you always said, "Papa loves you... Tiger, you sleep tight... now you just go... n' let your dreams take flight"

29

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Burning hot metal and marks when I'm bitten Black skies all day even in the spring, These are a few of my favorite things. Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels, Peace from the neighbors and schnitzel with noodles Flies on the wall, an arrow on their wings, These are a few of my favorite things. Girls in tight dresses and quick **** flashes, Ash from the sky in your eyes and eyelashes Silver white winters that melt into springs, These are a few of my favorite things. When I start fights, When my ears ring, When I'm feeling mad, I simply remember my favorite things And then I don't feel so bad!

0

Mar 16, 2014

Mar 16, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC

sweaterweather

My idea of a few favorite things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Burning hot metal and marks when I'm bitten Black skies all day even in the spring, These are a few of my favorite things. Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels, Peace from the neighbors and schnitzel with noodles Flies on the wall, an arrow on their wings, These are a few of my favorite things. Girls in tight dresses and quick **** flashes, Ash from the sky in your eyes and eyelashes Silver white winters that melt into springs, These are a few of my favorite things. When I start fights, When my ears ring, When I'm feeling mad, I simply remember my favorite things And then I don't feel so bad!

17

they say the way to a mans heart is through his stomach, i guess they never met a poet, id take feeling and a fountain pen, feelings soft and vibrant whims, eyes of fire and knowing grins, soft spoken; knowing flames dont end but schnitzel wouldn't hurt either.

0

Nov 10, 2014

Nov 10, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC

jopo

stars overhead, stars in mind, stars in front though scars behind

they say the way to a mans heart is through his stomach, i guess they never met a poet, id take feeling and a fountain pen, feelings soft and vibrant whims, eyes of fire and knowing grins, soft spoken; knowing flames dont end but schnitzel wouldn't hurt either.

7

on today's menu? a leek and granny smith apple salad (crème fraîche instead of mayonnaise, a bit of lemon juice and a bit of sugar, salt and pepper of course; diced tomatoes with onion, white vinegar / an acetic acid concoction, salt and pepper; cucumbers and tomatoes with onions likewise as the diced tomatoes extras; mashed potatoes with a dash of milk and crème fraîche and dill; and of course, the pièce de résistance - a slowly fried schnitzel (dabbled in a sprinkle of plain flower, egg, and breadcrumbs); apropos, don't you find middle-class english people slightly paranoid about using white vinegar as if they've seen a martian? i've seen it, what a comedy, with one line the entire theatrical play played out, and nothing was said, just eye contact! actually the only fun i have from certain bad palette recipes is throwing raw meat to my cats, beef is met with full approval, pork too, chicken not so much, prawns are approved, even a fish eye; indeed if i'm working on a dish from inexperience reciting each ingredient into the cauldron i never know what to expect, and if the dish is written by a badly experienced palette, throwing raw meat to my cats is the most enjoyable part of cooking, it almost feels like a scene from a coliseum.

0

Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

scene from a coliseum

on today's menu? a leek and granny smith apple salad (crème fraîche instead of mayonnaise, a bit of lemon juice and a bit of sugar, salt and pepper of course; diced tomatoes with onion, white vinegar / an acetic acid concoction, salt and pepper; cucumbers and tomatoes with onions likewise as the diced tomatoes extras; mashed potatoes with a dash of milk and crème fraîche and dill; and of course, the pièce de résistance - a slowly fried schnitzel (dabbled in a sprinkle of plain flower, egg, and breadcrumbs); apropos, don't you find middle-class english people slightly paranoid about using white vinegar as if they've seen a martian? i've seen it, what a comedy, with one line the entire theatrical play played out, and nothing was said, just eye contact! actually the only fun i have from certain bad palette recipes is throwing raw meat to my cats, beef is met with full approval, pork too, chicken not so much, prawns are approved, even a fish eye; indeed if i'm working on a dish from inexperience reciting each ingredient into the cauldron i never know what to expect, and if the dish is written by a badly experienced palette, throwing raw meat to my cats is the most enjoyable part of cooking, it almost feels like a scene from a coliseum.

16

Rhadda Rhadda Rhu Rhadda? Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda? Rhadda Rhadda Rha? Rhadda Rhadda? Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadd,Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda Rhad, Rha Rhadda Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda Rha Rhadda. Rha Rhadda, Rhadda. "I dream of what I wish to be." Rhadda? Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rha Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda. Rhadda, Rha Rhadda, Rhadda. Rhadda Rha. Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda Rha Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda. Rha Rha Rhadda Rha. Rhadda Rhadda Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda... Rha. Is death meant to be? If it is, can we allow it? Can we tempt God? Is it a Temptation? A man is just a man and there is one just like him next to him. The toil, Oh the toil murders souls. Children shed their skin, as the knife cuts them, so that from their blood, nourishment may be provided for their ravenous, broken dreams. "I dream of what I wish to be." Do you? A man was bound to be a doctor. As Fate leads many a man. Yet as fate does often, it changed in favor of a coin toss. Heads, or tails, the side one. This side won. So let my piece be spoken, for my words are soaked and stale, and they are beginning to make me sick. Never take the first job you find. Never make a decision based on fear, or pride. Never decide based on indecision or instability. Live for what you wish, and never wish for what you wanted. It leaves you... Empty Was this version funny? I guess it wasn't foreign sounding, now, It sounded harsh and biting. I guess because you finally could understand it, it finally meant something. Foreign things are very funny.

0

Apr 23, 2018

Apr 23, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC

Birthday A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who has to pay to be published how pathetic is that? We, my companion and I found a restaurant and for lunch she ate something African. I had a schnitzel that looked as the white meat of a rat that had taken the pledge lost my appetite. Instead, I had a double portion of fresh cut salad followed by a tomato salad with a bit of mozzarella. I lifted my glass of water saw the eatery through tears not shed, the few friends I had in Algarve have all gone they could not stop in time. The conversations, wit and bottles of red wine kept flowing, it had to stop so I took the bus home. Now it is only my beloved and I left and every year I love her more. At night with a heart full of dread I snuggle up to her, she strokes my somnolent head until I fall asleep again and sadness drifts away.

0

Oct 24, 2015

Oct 24, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC

jan-oskar-hansen

Birthday

Birthday A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who has to pay to be published how pathetic is that? We, my companion and I found a restaurant and for lunch she ate something African. I had a schnitzel that looked as the white meat of a rat that had taken the pledge lost my appetite. Instead, I had a double portion of fresh cut salad followed by a tomato salad with a bit of mozzarella. I lifted my glass of water saw the eatery through tears not shed, the few friends I had in Algarve have all gone they could not stop in time. The conversations, wit and bottles of red wine kept flowing, it had to stop so I took the bus home. Now it is only my beloved and I left and every year I love her more. At night with a heart full of dread I snuggle up to her, she strokes my somnolent head until I fall asleep again and sadness drifts away.

18

The End of Poetry I refuse, refuse to write anymore my head is a winter turnip you can slice fry and pretend it is schnitzel served with spinach and mashed potatoes, all of them are veggies that refuse to be eaten but have little choice but to surrender at the motto of “Let us try this once more.” Dreams are the last to go, she was sleeping and dying woke up and said she had a funny dream she told me about it delightful memories she didn't have a happy childhood and a pony, touched my deeply. Two hours later she died in the middle of another dream and stark reality sat in a corner crying. Pallid faces took her away as I repeated to myself, I refuse to believe what have occurred, reality had lost its rudder. I accepted the avoidable opened a door and was hit by a storm full of spiteful and hateful thoughts, but I refuse to write about that.

0

Nov 2, 2015

Nov 2, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC

jan-oskar-hansen

end of poetry

The End of Poetry I refuse, refuse to write anymore my head is a winter turnip you can slice fry and pretend it is schnitzel served with spinach and mashed potatoes, all of them are veggies that refuse to be eaten but have little choice but to surrender at the motto of “Let us try this once more.” Dreams are the last to go, she was sleeping and dying woke up and said she had a funny dream she told me about it delightful memories she didn't have a happy childhood and a pony, touched my deeply. Two hours later she died in the middle of another dream and stark reality sat in a corner crying. Pallid faces took her away as I repeated to myself, I refuse to believe what have occurred, reality had lost its rudder. I accepted the avoidable opened a door and was hit by a storm full of spiteful and hateful thoughts, but I refuse to write about that.

19

if you're a "heavy", i.e. a serious drinker like me? if you're getting the bout of hiccups? for god's sake man... eat something! you're going to choke, if you don't eat something hearty; like a schnitzel; you're going to suffacate on your phlegm! comparatively: alcoholics teaching diabetics about the sugar content of alcohol's calorie worth of penny sweets dynamo, comparison, made, to stage, a status quo, of some remote sensibility... oi! tarzan! stop swinging from that vine! don a suit! ah **** he actually did it... thing's a bit like that; otherwise what? lasting, by listening to some tina turner? no, not that... frankenstein's monster with a one-liner (cameo): fire! fire! bad! same as sugar... imagine it though... alcoholics teaching diabetics... even shakespeare couldn't write about this kind of scenario.

0

May 24, 2017

May 24, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

a cure to hiccups (multidemensionalism of alcohol "abuse")

if you're a "heavy", i.e. a serious drinker like me? if you're getting the bout of hiccups? for god's sake man... eat something! you're going to choke, if you don't eat something hearty; like a schnitzel; you're going to suffacate on your phlegm! comparatively: alcoholics teaching diabetics about the sugar content of alcohol's calorie worth of penny sweets dynamo, comparison, made, to stage, a status quo, of some remote sensibility... oi! tarzan! stop swinging from that vine! don a suit! ah **** he actually did it... thing's a bit like that; otherwise what? lasting, by listening to some tina turner? no, not that... frankenstein's monster with a one-liner (cameo): fire! fire! bad! same as sugar... imagine it though... alcoholics teaching diabetics... even shakespeare couldn't write about this kind of scenario.

32

Good News Day Yesterday and it was a long day I’ve edited poems written 15 years ago, spelling tends to let me down, but slowly I get the hang of it Back from the ecologist, I'm cancer free and that is great. I had hoped we could eat out, but my wife is frying filets of fish that has been breaded and look like schnitzel no matter what you with fish I still don't like it, perhaps canned tunny. But truth be told – always? - I have to do the dishes when dining at home the only good thing with hand wash the dishes is clean fingernails. My mother had so much dirt under hers, it was possible to plant cabbage, but not deep enough for potatoes; it is fair it was mostly tobacco as she hand rolled her cigarettes; I tried to but got nicotine fingers it looked like I had my left hand permanently stuck up my *** For the sake of the good news, I will not carp eat the fish and be glad.

0

Jun 22, 2017

Jun 22, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC

jan-oskar-hansen

a good news day

Good News Day Yesterday and it was a long day I’ve edited poems written 15 years ago, spelling tends to let me down, but slowly I get the hang of it Back from the ecologist, I'm cancer free and that is great. I had hoped we could eat out, but my wife is frying filets of fish that has been breaded and look like schnitzel no matter what you with fish I still don't like it, perhaps canned tunny. But truth be told – always? - I have to do the dishes when dining at home the only good thing with hand wash the dishes is clean fingernails. My mother had so much dirt under hers, it was possible to plant cabbage, but not deep enough for potatoes; it is fair it was mostly tobacco as she hand rolled her cigarettes; I tried to but got nicotine fingers it looked like I had my left hand permanently stuck up my *** For the sake of the good news, I will not carp eat the fish and be glad.

14