I tried to tickle my vegan fancy
With bushels of quinoa and kale,
I was told no meat or dairy
Was the healthy Holy Grail.

But I was sad and hungry
With every burger I declined,
See me toss away my salad bowl,
I’m in a sirloin state of mind.

I filled my fridge with veggies,
Bean sprouts and legumes,
But I dreamt of pancetta
And links of sausage to consume.

Breakfast was plain yogurt
Lunch was collard greens,
Snacks were roasted edamame,
****, they’re just soy beans.

I was getting much too skinny,
My ribs were protruding,
I became short-tempered,
And was dark and brooding.

I covered all the mirrors,
I looked so pale and pasty,
All day I would salivate,
Craving something hot and tasty.

My vegan days are over
Enjoying pork chops, ham and bacon
I thought veggies were the answer,
But it seems I was mistaken.

Feel free to live off plants,
If you are so inclined,
But I’m firing up the grill,
I’m in a sirloin state of mind.

Prairie winds howling from the south, the entire southern plane a gaping maw issuing forth wide frozen tides in the air scorching the land. peering thru the open blotches of the windshield on the way home, headlights revealing the rolling billows of misty scintillating snow devouring the gravel road way, old raised green truck roars thru the drifts. Earlier, twilight. Freezing. Everything the wind touches, everything that blocks its path becomes still and solid and severely dense. Had a bubble bath before i went out. AB =Long Johns 7 mo's. outta the year. Cheeks barely exposed to the elements, cells begin to deteriorate instantly, the strong stolid ache appears seconds afterward, and spreads in my blood quickly, and doesn't stop till some minutes after i seek refuge in the truck. Taking an elk. old bull. my step dad bumbles the first shot and the beast runs down the *****. He shoots it again. Cuts the throat and eventually takes off the head. Draining Blood is steaming. Leave the entrails in the snowscaped pasture land. Chain the legs to the bale mover on the back of the truck and make for the shop a few miles away. There Fire rages in an old steel drum in the corner, burning wood blocks and black petroleum wax leftover from the pigs that blast out from the pipelines. Feeney's in my coffee mug. The heat radiates just enough to reach us in middle room but we still wear full coveralls against to stifle the endless cold. We hang the carcass by running a steel rod through its achilles tendons. Grandpa & Stepdad refer to a murdered family in Consort whose place was burned down, suspect the son was involved in a drug deal gone bad. (Cohen bros. come to mind. Real life in Alberta & BC seems a blend of Big Lebowski and No Country). Skinning the elk. Carving it up. Learning the different cuts of meat, where t-bones come from, tenderloin, round steak, sirloin. Cool. Mass more than a 100 lbs of meat for jerky making. Country cousins comin over the next few days to help with cutting it all up. Striking a balance between fine articulation and the art of laughing. Turns out Everyone respects poetry for the audience. Good god y'all.

Isn’t it strange that the same bloodlust
Which feeds the *** drive, drives
Deep into one’s Egyptian appetite,
Feeds deep, deep around the campfire at night,
Flames of carnal desire: and by carnal, I mean
Literally a yearning for rib-eye steaks,
Pork sirloin & Horse Meat.
Horse meatballs.
Horse sausage.
Horse stew.
Hi-** Silver & Trigger,
Fury & My Friend Flicka, &
Lest we forget:  The Famous Mr. Ed.
Oh Wilbur, I'm talking about Horse Cuisine!
(God Bless the French!)
Dartagnan & Brigitte, typical post war
Parisians with slim pickens
(No relation to the actor)
Survivors with little to choose from
Whatever scroungy edibles offered on the pushcart.
The one good thing about those years, you might ask?
It was a jubilee time, a precursor to
Lean Cuisine & Weight Watchers
Jenny Craig & Nutrisystem, & the lovely
Marie Osmond looking especially edible lately
Having dropped a dumb-bell 50 pounds, yet
Still crammed tightly in Spanx.
“Hey Marie, it’s good to be the King!”
I am Mel Brooks ******* you,
From behind, History of the World: Part I.
Marie is looking  tasty, n'est–ce pas?
France after WWI and WWII: a starving time,
Yet ironically a meat-eater's ****.
The French Cavalry, no longer needed,
It meant liquidation of the local Lipizzaners,
War-weary, would-be Man o’ Wars,
Secretariats, Seattle Slews, & California Chromes,
Shot twice in the head,
Carcasses hung & butchered.
But I digress. Or do I?
MEAT: gives the same ecstatic rush as ***,
Carnival Season, a pre-Lenten animal s’morgasm,
Identical, as nourishing as, perhaps as
A horse of a different color: ***?
SEE ME/FEEL ME: ****** cheeks, dripping jowls;
Shredded flesh betwixt my teeth—oh yes!
I confess that among my forebears,
(Not to be confused with The Three Bears,
Which would, of course, be a whole 'nother story)
Somewhere ‘long the spiral helix
Was a seriously carnivorous naked ape,
Some troglodyte Alley Oop, evolving over Time,
Into a reptilian, puffed-up, junior broker,
Impressing some ***** 21 year-old
In some Chichi Manhattan bistro, trumping
The waiter's or waitress’s shopworn query with:
******!
A fresh ****:
****** & still warm.

Just fifteen minutes ago
Penelope and I had been
******* like a couple of
fire-breathing, rabid dragons.

I say dragons as opposed to
rabbits, jackalopes, or whatever
because we’d only been awake for
the past half hour or so.

It was 11am on Sunday;
neither of us had brushed
our teeth yet.

There was a party at Reilly’s
last night and the bourbon and
gin were flowing fine,
I have to say.

John Reilly’s oldest boy
had gotten out of Wabash
Friday afternoon after serving 7 years
so it was definitely time for some levity.

Penelope wandered the bar and made
over some of the regulars, sitting on laps
or patting bald heads.

Reilly wasn’t giving drinks away,
despite the joyous occasion.
Ol’ Johnny wasn’t about to pass up a buck,
but Penelope made sure she and I drank for
free.

So, we drank.


I found the bedroom to be sour,
smelling of *****-sweat and ****-fumes,
so I pulled my shorts on, making my way
to the kitchen.


I turned on the stove,
found a pan and went to the fridge
for the butter and eggs.
The coffee *** stared at me.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”


After a brief pause to get
my first love percolating,
I grabbed what was left of a loaf
and my finest, read that as only,
cast iron skillet and wished I had a
sirloin or flank to fry in it, but I didn’t.

Instead, I grabbed three coffee cups,
and set to work, using one of the cups
to cut circles out of six slices of white bread;
luckily I had a half dozen eggs left.

Some people call them
hens in the nest
or
eggs in a basket,
but we always called ‘em
frog eyes when I was a kid.

I won’t bore you with the details,
but I had those little golden *******
looking pretty good by the time I heard
Penelope’s bare feet padding from the bedroom
to the can.

I listened carefully.

I heard the tiniest little **** echo into
the bowl of the toilet while she peed;
I found it endearing.

The shower ran,
the coffee dripped,
I grabbed the Tabasco, some maple syrup,
some marmalade.

Options, right?


I made myself a cup of coffee,
added sugar and some powdered
creamer I had.

I rarely bought milk.

Hell, I rarely slept here.

The frog eyes were done.
The shower stopped.
I heard Penelope padding back to
the bedroom and rustling around in my
chest of drawers.

She appeared in the doorway.
her shower-wet hair a deep, mossy
brown that would dry to a mousy color,
her large, deep, wet eyes the color of emeralds.

I could get lost in them.

Penelope was wearing one of my undershirts,
and, from what I could tell, nothing else.

“What’s for breakfast; it smells good.”
“Coffee too?”

“Indeed”, I said.
“Frog eyes”, I said.

Penelope made a face,
but sat across from me anyway.

Picking up a circle of fried white bread,
bursting a yolk; sipping her coffee,
she took a bite and
smiled at me.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016

One month to Christmas.
So glad I'm not a turkey.
Doing the turkey trot.
That's foul.

Glad I'm not a goose on the loose.
Waiting to be stuffed.
Not a duck either.
Don't fancy that.
While sat there in my Christmas hat.

If I was Sirloin.
I'm sure I'd find a beef.
At the prospect of being munched.
Main course for some sad suckers,
Christmas lunch munch.
Don't want to be a piece of meat.
Perhaps I'll just eat leaves.

Maybe a mince pie .
I will walk with a wiggle.
Pull a Christmas *******.
Maybe get a little tiddled.
Lets all giggle.
And say,
Glad I'm not an edible bird.
Upon crisp Christmas day!


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Hijacked by the snooze button
stolen minutes slip into my sleep
to feed the dream furnace.
Consciousness struggles to surface
like a moth trapped in cold molasses.
First muttering - then SCREAMING
into the hazy space between
waking and sleeping - "Wake Up!"
subconscious philosopher stubbornly
attempts to unify all the
random baggage and jack-n-the-box
questions, into one patchwork epic.
Broadcast at the speed of thought-
in full Technicolor and 3-d surround sound.
Seeking clarity in the realm of abstraction.
Unable to interrupt - the adult self
tries to subvert with subtle
whispers of: closely persuing
clocks ticking in triple time,
floating on a sirloin raft through
piranha infested waters
towards some cold, crushing
waterfall grave.
Success sees the door open slightly.
A single arrow is loosed into
the thin rectangle of light.
Striking deep and true,
"You're LATE!"
The panic button neatly impaled
bleeds a banshee choir of sirens.
Shrieking all systems into action.
Dreams evaporate, instantly
turned to dust.
(only to resettle unnoticed
into forgotten corners)
Ashamed, the maestro
frantically conducts the
(somewhat abbreviated)
rituals of morning,
while thumbing through a
well worn book of excuses.
Is the **** coffee ready yet?

Why do you push us away from what you want us to do?
Do you even realise the damage that you create?
You, create a monster building factory, where they end up hating themselves.

There is nothing called Identity anymore.
Everything is like an oasis in the middle of a dessert.
Non-existent.
An illusion.
Fake.

You expect things to be fulfilled,
And to go in your favour.
But all you are doing is creating a world of self-hatred and pity.
Problems have become a cliché,
And personal failure is nothing but a benefit in your freakish thought of a perfect system.

How many more faceless creatures do you want in this world?
Because, if you have it your way, the world will contain nothing,
but these mind-forgotten, brainwashed creatures.

You have a goal.
A goal to destroy what once was such a beauty,
Something that was once worth holding on to.

You have created nothing but heartache.
As it seems, the continuation of this process will lead to no back up from those,
who needed your support in times of great need.

You took and misshaped their being,
their purpose, their future,
And threw it away,
like as if it were nothing more than a piece of well chewed, chewing gum.

You hope for a better world,
A better and brighter future with strong leaders.
Well, my friend. You have missed your chance.
You could have had it, but you demolished it,
along with the rest of the living souls of your now well-thriving monsters.






You say you’re going green,
But you keep holding onto the idea of maintaining the meat factories of the century.
Well, you got your sirloin,
your loaf of scrambled up confusions and shattered dreams.
You keep them in your pressuriser,
To keep them warm and squirming.
You know, got to keep the green flowing.

One day,
One should hope you’ll see what a disaster you have created,
Though obviously too late.
That’s how it works.
You have to learn it the hard way. (If you have the capability of learning more inside that so called “wise”, thick, thinking-box of yours.)
I hope you know, what you got yourself into.
Good luck with it all.
It’s a great mess all of it. Be careful you don’t cut yourself on the shattered well-being of each precious youthful life you have affected.
Thank you for your great work,
Mr. Government.

I want something
A sirloin steak
A piece of carrot cake

I want more than when
Not who but now how
Something more than then again

A purple drink umbrella
A creature double feature
An itch unscratchable scratched

I want something

The alarm clock buzzed beside him as he struggled to reach his hand out to shut the alarm away. He groaned as he rolled over from his side of the bed to the other side of his king-sized bed. The other side of the bed, that used to feel so warm, was now empty and cold. He gave out a deep sigh before sitting up on his bed and proceeded to kiss the picture frame on the side table beside his bed. He admired her beautiful face for a few minutes as he smiled painfully before placing it back where it was before. Ruffling his own hair, he walked towards his cupboard to grab a random shirt and threw it on before quickening his steps to the bedroom beside his. He knocked on the door gently before opening it lightly. Walking towards the snoozing female on the bed, he sat down beside her and shook her petite body.

"Hey... Wake up..." he spoke gently as he switched the side lamp on. Long eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes, her brown watery orbs shimmered under the small light. Small groans could be heard as she tried to hide herself under the blanket, making the grown man laugh at her cute antics. "Come on, I need to get to work..." he said as he shook her more.

"Noooooooooo~" a small muffled groan could be heard from under the blanket and he chuckled.

"If you are not going wake up, the tickle monster is going to attack you~" He grabbed the girl who was hiding under the blankets and started to tickle her through the thick cloth and cute giggles could be heard as she slowly revealed her head, sitting up as she came eye to eye with the grown man.

"Good morning, Daddy." she greeted politely.

"Good morning, little princess." he greeted back, smiling as he stroked his little girl's long wavy hair that she grew out ever since the day she was borned. "Come on, let's get washed up." he opened his arms, inviting the little girl into his arms. She did the same and held onto his broad shoulders as he carried her and they both went into the bathroom. He sat her down on their sturdy basin counter top as he started shaving his stubs carefully. The 5 year old independently took her father's toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on the brush before passing it to him. He smiled lightly before taking his toothbrush and watched as she prepared her own small pink bunny designed toothbrush. After finishing brushing their teeth, he helped the little girl down from the basin as she ran towards the bathtub.

"Kailee! Remove your clothes before you start the bath." he spoke firmly to the girl as she started running the tap to the fill the bathtub.

SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH!

He squeezed his eyes together so that the water that was splashing around would not get into his eyes. "Will you please stop splashing?" he nagged at the young girl but she merely giggled, finding the scene of her father getting all soaked rather amusing. She continued splashing the soaped water in her father's direction, ignoring the fact that he was literally getting drenched in his clothes as he scrubbed her clean.

After drying her up, he brought her back into her bedroom as he looked through her clothes that were hung in her wardrobe. "Daddy! I want to wear that dress!" she exclaimed, pointing to a sky blue dress, with floral prints on the thin silk layer on top of the bottom half of the dress.

"Again? This is probably the 50th time you wore it this year, my dear." he half-complained as he chuckled behind his words, taking it out from the wardrobe and dressed her up in the dress.

"What~? I like this dress." she responded as she waited for her father to help her zip up the dress before she skipped to the full-length mirror in her room and admired herself.

"I know I know. Go down for breakfast. Your grandparents are probably waiting for you." he said as he went back into his own bedroom and prepared himself for his day at work.

Decked in a simple tight fit black tee shirt and light blue ripped jeans, he started styling his hair, slicking his black hair backwards in a neat style. After he was done accessorising, he jogged down the stairs to join his family for breakfast.

As he sat down with his father and mother for breakfast, he saw that his little girl was already done with her meal and had scattered off to play with the two dogs in the yard. "Good morning Mom, Dad." he greeted before bowing a little and started to munch on his sandwich. "Egg sandwich! Mmm, this is tasty." he spoke with a little hype as he munched on it more.

"Dylan... Why did you let her wear that dress again?" his mother nagged at him, but he merely smiled at her with respect.

"It's alright Mom, you know that's her favourite dress." he said nonchalantly before realising that his parents were already looking at one another with worried looks. "It's alright, it really is." he assured them with a cool smile as he heard his phone ring and his secretary's name showed on the phone. "Alright, we need to go. Come on, Kailee!"

At the sound of her father's voice, Kailee kissed the retriever puppies goodbye before running towards Dylan, who was waiting for her with his hand outstretched for her hand. Small fingers gripped around his masculine hand as he tugged her along towards the posh looking van that was waiting for them upfront. The two of them board the van and the well-mannered Kailee greeted the adult man inside.

"Good morning Uncle Fred!" she grinned brightly at the male whom was older than her own father.

"Good morning Kailee, wearing your favourite dress again?" he commented casually but Dylan knew that he eyed him for a bit there.

"Yes! I love this dress!" Kailee exclaimed, smiling brightly as her eyes turned into crescents, just like how her father's would. The three of them went on their way to the company. Upon arriving, they made their way up towards the studios and the elevator stops on the 4th floor. Before the elevator door opened, Dylan knelt down on one knee if front of Kailee and gently brushed his thumb against her chubby cheeks and stroked her hair.

"I've got to go. Behave, okay?" he smiled at her but she pouted.

"Can't you stay with me today?" she mumbled and Dylan felt his heart clenched a little. He had always felt sorry that he could not spend his time with Kailee, but this career was all that was supporting him and his family.

"Sorry baby." he lightly kissed her on her forehead and smiled at her again, "I love you." he murmured to her.

"I love you too." she replied with a small smile as she waved to her father goodbye. Dylan waved a little before walking out of the elevator, leaving Fred and Kailee in the elevator alone as they proceeded to the fifth floor, where Kailee's private tutor was waiting for her.



"Dylan."

"Dylan."

"Mister Dylan Caleb!"

Finally snapping out of his daze, Dylan raised his head as he looked Travis in the eyes. "Yes?" he realised that he have not been paying attention to the song that Travis was playing for him and he watched as  his partner sighed in front of him. "I'm sorry." he apologised to Travis but his blonde friend merely sighed deeper.

"Let's go for a break." Travis suggested and they both stood up, leaving the studio as they started to take a stroll around the building. They finally came to the room where Kailee was receiving her private tutoring. Through the full glass doors, he leaned against a pillar that was out of sight from Kailee. Staring at her backview, he smiled lightly. His heart warmed up, feeling grateful for her existence.

"Are you alright?" Travis placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder and his eyes started to tear up.

"What have I ever done to deserve this?" he murmured, loud enough for Travis to hear and Travis' face turned solemn as he patted Dylan on the shoulder.



Chapter 3

*He stared in the mirror as he fixed his tie nicely. The black tie went nicely with his black shirt and coat. He turned to take a look at his bedroom, which still held the things that belonged to her. Controlling his emotions, he stepped out of his bedroom and saw his 2 years old daughter held in her grandmother's arms, decked in a formal black dress.

"Must we really bring her?" Dylan murmured to his parents, his head lowered and his hands pocketed. He bit his lips as he kept his hopes high, hoping that he did not have to bring his daughter along.

"She is, after all, her mother, Dylan..." His father replied him and he nodded his lightly. He outstretched his arms to welcome his daughter into his embrace as the innocent toddler giggled and held onto her father, his face struggling to smile for the little girl.

"Let's go..." Dylan said calmly as the entire family left the house.

Arriving at their destination, most of the people were already there although it was pretty early. He left his daughter in the care of his parents as he proceeded to greet his guests politely before moving to the main hall, where his wife was.

He slowly approached the white grand coffin which his wife laid in and he hesitated before looking into the glass panel, where he could see the face of his beautiful wife, all dolled up. She looked so beautiful, and he smiled as tears started to fall down his face. Reaching out his hand, he gently caressed the glass panel as his tears started hitting it in droplets.

"Sky..." he murmured her name softly, his body shivering as he admired her face. Her eyes were closed and the small smile on her face made it seem like she was in peace. "What am I to do...? What am I to do without you...?" he mumbled under his breath as he slowly stroked the glass panel. "Ah... Sorry... I'll be okay...You will watch over Kailee and I... Right?" he mumbled some more. He slowly placed his lips against the glass panel and kissed it, his body still shaking uncontrollably. He heard people walking into the room, but he ignored it, placing his full attention on his wife.

"Dylan..." A deep voice spoke as a hand was placed on Dylan's shoulder. "Be strong..." he said. He turned slightly to see TOP standing beside him before turning back to Haneul as he slowly calmed down. Back and forth, people came up to Jiyong to comfort him and send him their condolences. It was a small funeral as Jiyong was a celebrity and he wished to be able to protect his family's privacy by not blowing it up too big. The only guests there were his close friends and family as well as Haneul's. Finally coming eye to eye with Haneul's parents, Jiyong bowed deeply at his in-laws, solemnly portraying his apologies and guilt towards them.

"Sorry that I didn't take good care of Haneul like I've promised to. I'm deeply sorry, Father and Mother." he said in great sorrow.

"Look up, Jiyong-ah." Haneul's father said in a deep, calm voice as her mother teared beside him. "It's not your fault. It's just Haneul's fate that she couldn't live longer. But she is a fool herself, ending her own life like this."

BASH!

Out of nowhere, Haneul's younger brother, Hanbyun, came out and gave Jiyong a punch in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. Jiyong's friends wanted to help him up, but he shook his hand before turning to look Hanbyun in the eye. Instead of anger, he saw sadness in Hanbyun's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hanbyun-ah." he apologised, not knowing what to say to the depressed young adult. With no reply, Hanbyun stomped out of the funeral hall.

"Sorry Ji-"

"It's okay Father and Mother. Everyone is definitely not in a good mood because of this. Hanbyun is no exception." he lowered his head, feeling shameful to face his in-laws after what happened to their daughter.

"Let's go send Haneul off nicely." Jiyong's father commented to everyone as Seungri, Daesung, TOP, Youngbae, Mithra and Seungyoon were ready to lift the coffin. He nodded as he turned to see his daughter in his mother's arms.

"Umma. Let me hold Hanyoung." Jiyong said as he reached out his hand towards his daughter and held on to her. Sending Haneul off into the fire, he bid his last farewell to his one true love.



Chapter 4

He held his daughter's hand as they slowly walk along the rows of tombs. Once they had arrived at the tomb of the person they were here to visit, Jiyong passed the bouquet of light blue and red roses to Hanyoung. The 5 year old held the bouquet in her arms and made a small prayer as she laid the bouquet on her mother's tomb. Taking out his hankerchief from his pocket, he knelt down in front of the tomb and started wiping her photo and the words that were engraved on the tomb.

"Haneul-ah... Hanyoung and I have come to visit you." he said steadily and softly.

"Umma..." Hanyoung called out to her mother as her small hands reached out to stroke the photo of her late mother. Jiyong held on to his daughter as he forced out a smile.

"Hanyoungie is 5 years old already..." he paused, "Which means you have been gone for 3 years now..." he said, his lips quivering as he tried his best to keep his emotions under control. There was so much he wanted to say to Haneul, but he kept them in his heart as he made a silent prayer. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her, how much he wanted her here with him and Hanyoung, how everything felt so incomplete without her.

"Appa, don't cry..." he heard a small voice comfort him as her warm hands reach out to wipe away his tears. "Hanyoung knows that Appa misses Umma... I miss Umma too..." she murmured to her father as her face to change. Jiyong reached out to hug his daughter tightly, feeling her warmth as his heart continued to tear apart at the thought of his wife. He started to hear little sniffles coming from beside him and he gulped in guilt.

"Alright... Appa won't cry anymore... Hanyoung shall not cry too, okay?" Jiyong swallowed his agony to comfort his daughter. Hanyoung parted the hug and turned towards the tomb and placed her hand on the photo again.

"Umma... Why did you leave me and Appa alone? I want you here with Appa and I..." her innocent thoughts rolled out bit by bit and Jiyong watched as Hanyoung conversed with the photo. "But it's okay... Umma is in better place now... Appa said that Umma will take care of Hanyoung and Appa from that place..." she smiled slightly, "Please take care of Appa... He seems really stressed out from work..." she prayed to her mother out loud and Jiyong cringed at her words, his heart shattering with every word that came out of the young girl's mouth. He choked on his tears, controlling himself as hard as he could.

"Umma... I miss you... And I love you, forever..." she stroked the photo gently.

"I'm so sorry, Hanyoungie..." Jiyong caressed his daughter's face as he lowered his head.

"It's okay, Appa. It's not your fault..." Hanyoung tilted her head in confusion as she patted her father's head, making Jiyong smile slightly.


Bringing Hanyoung to a restaurant for lunch, he ordered his usual as well as Haneul's favourites, Carbonara Spaghetti and Beef Sirloin Steak. As he fed Hanyoung, he started to speak softly.

"You know... This is the restaurant where I first met your Umma..." he said and it called Hanyoung's attention. Her ears perked slightly as she looked up at her father, waiting for him to continue his story.


Chapter 5


"What do you mean there are no more seats left? Don't you know who am I? I'm G-Dragon. What happened to my usual table?"

Jiyong ranted at one of the waiters softly in the restaurant. He was there for his lunch that day, but the restaurant was packed.

"Sorry sir. Your table is taken by that lady. We didn't know you would be coming by today..." the waiter replied in a flustered tone, not knowing how to deal with the situation. Jiyong frowned in anger as he turned to look at the woman who had taken his seat. His expression softened as he watched the woman twirled on her spaghetti. She was in a white collared blouse and a mini black skirt, a pair of studious yet classy spectacles on her nose as she was studying her laptop as she ate. He was overwhelmed by her charisma and beauty uncontrollably. Just then, her eyes looked up and he met with the most beautiful pair of brown orbs that he had ever seen in his entire life. With a pose of dignity and sophistication, she smiled at him before calling over the waiter that Jiyong was questioning. Nodding his head at her words, he literally ran up to Jiyong one more time.

"The lady said that if you don't mind, you can share the table with her." he st

just because something’s for sale
and you bought it
doesn’t mean you didn’t steal it
isn’t that why prostitution is illegal?
of course, stealing is fine
if you couldn’t purloin the life
of a sirloin or banana
you wouldn’t eat
BUT
just because you can buy a porkchop
doesn’t mean that the pig
placed himself on the market
not to sweat it though
when the earth digests you
it all evens out

Like an insatiable hunger
I desperately want to find my place in the world
Yet, I never know where to look
Looking at a menu of different paths
Too afraid to pick just one entree
Do I want to always be known as the burger guy?
The steak sirloin?
Or do I want shrimp scampi?
I know I can only have one but...
Everything looks so appetizing
So delicious

I never know what to get myself
It's a mix between
What do I want ?
And what do I think I deserve?

The Waiter gives Patrons each a book as the menu order
Pages upon pages of Author’s tasteful foods
It will make one’s taste buds drool
The book menu full of enlightenment, Decisions and assortments
Earnest Hemingway Sirloin with tender loving care of potatoes and a mix vegetable with adventure of an encore
Now that is sure to make your heart soar
All the thrills that fit the bill
Then there’s ****** She Wrote with a variety being a mixture Salads, Beef and an intriguing detail of taste
So much to eat
You now have a treat
Mark Twain catching your eye in adventure of exploration
A Food dish offering the look see
But with a surprise in not knowing in what it could be
If you are hungry, let me hurry in proceed
So much to chose indeed
A Novelist for the Patron in being an eating dream
At least that is what it would seem
A Restaurant where the menu comes from a hardcover book
All you have to do is take a look
Imagine, a Novelist Signature Paradise Restaurant where the Patron becomes the Novelist and indulge in the Author’s flavor having taste.

Herbivore’s Wish

Imagine a world without

carnivores

Get rid of the mushrooms

last of the spores

it would be great, no cats

or dogs

plus most of the people

who use teeth like cogs.

Vegetarians, would live

in peace

Some are already living

in Greece.

Watch cows in peaceful

rumination

But the meat eaters realm

is just devastation.

They **** for pleasure and

enjoy the pain

They factory farm to reap

and gain.

But those who support it

are just as depraved

Because a sirloin steak

is not engraved

No death by date can

ever be seen

To a human what does

an animal mean.

So tell me then what is

strife

And how can you utter

the words Shelf Life.



Today's lunch

Aubergines Seitan courgettes
in Olive oil  garlic with Rice.

if hell is where you love - yet heaven where you are at peace: where, i ask - would you rather be?

why doesn't this word exist: SOLEMNOUS...
"borrowing" from solemnity...
"borrowing" from... ah... because there was
the man of sorrows, woes...
there is the sorrowful...

i dared to think there might
be a solemnous man...
then again it's much simpler:
since... i have become the solemn man...

what does, solemn mean?
formal and dignified...
categorized by
deep sincerity...

         -ly: added to solemn invokes:
with: deep sincerity...
hardly a case for a heart of a naive child:
by now, aged 37...
i have aged to actually appreciate
a sincerity of Christmas...

i shouldn't have to make this public...
but i will make it public anyway...

        i thank with all my heart
             for bringing Edie into my life...
i can't forgo thinking aloud
an arrangement with fate
very much akin to the Duke of Windsor
and that of Wallis Simpson...

perhaps i've been binging on watching
the Crown and feel immense sentiment
for the man...

regardless...
finally a love less and less like that of tumultus
youth of changing each other
or jumping through hoops...

no longer an empty Christmas
no longer stationed with duty to an immediate
family... that ship has long
sunk and what remains is three
people on a raft...

the rest of family being crushed by
both death and modernity
and the luxuries the latter afforded each
to dissolve through the death of the last
patriarch in the shadow
of Franklin - the great grandmother,
guard of the kindergarten
the delivery man of lemonade
using a horse and cart...

              i only hope and perhaps i might
even begin to usher in a practice of prayer:
for me to be united with Edie
and Reyla for next Christmas...
even apart: yet a quick telephone call
and i'm there...

and i'm there with a quick snap of the fingers
and a shake of the wallet for
a £700 ticket from London Heathrow
via Anchorage to Honolulu...
a lifetime apart, unknown to either of us
a me or a you or a we as i-to-i...

terrible affair, love... so freely available
so freely given, so unabashedly willing to loiter
to lessen the pains of distance...
yet only loiter on the surface, yet...

how dexterous these hands with this
heart like a sponge...
        how easily to give love to know one can:
also receive     like-for-like...

no longer bound to poetry
   no longer threatened by family or by youth
or by expectations of muddled forensics of
societal norms...
threateningly unabashed:
a threateningly friendly: by my will
            i cannot otherwise...
                          disguise...

even with the throng of badly burnt men
who spew red pill black pill white pill blue will
as if the Matrix could be the only analogy
to a philosophy and how men
and women relate...

operation sirloin steak:
an imminent attack from Norway
establishing a colony on the coast of Scotland
by way of decoy:
to begin major work on canal building
under the English channel...
or at least that's the immediate
reading of Edward VIII sympathising intrigue...

quiet openly: these days you can be working
in England with colleagues
who are sympathisers of Vlad Putin
who have come from Sudan
to re-educate almost everyone from the continent
in post-colonialism...

          so it's not everyone is going
to get of scoff free...
for all that modernity affords us,
                    it still can't give us sufficient evidence
that...
heaven is a place where we can love...
that love is not a torturous liberation
from the stifling affairs of keeping at peace...

i do not consent to a heaven by dictates of peace
and angelic boredom
   while fascinated by a child-god
fascinated in turn by geology, dinosaurs
and the planets...

               for that matter time...

in hell and in love i'd rather reside...
         and perhaps tortured by being bored by women...
i can't imagine anything greater
than... pretending to be bored by women.

To market to market to buy a fat pig
home again ,home again Jiggitty jig

Everything Skyrocketing
Taxation, government pocketing

Food cost on the rise
the price of steak and fries
$26 for steak, an outrage
Who sets the price? what is the gage?
That’s not even organic, free range
It’s mysterious , very strange

Gasoline $5.89 a gallon
Which doesn’t last
Longing for the prices of the past

Now Everything 3 Times more expensive.
What use to cost $100  now cost $300..

In the market, I heard families talking. “How much money do we have left “and oh my gosh the meat is $30.
“How much do we have in our budget?”. These  quotes from a family of five and the woman looked panicked,
plus. She was pregnant, one on the way
Her face frantic, she had nothing to say

A list in hand carefully selecting
only what’s on sale.
Frustration, realization, A life tale
Baby crying in the cart
Changing their budget
now they start
Watching broke my heart

These are real observations
at the market today.
It took my breath away

Many Products have gone away.
I asked the butcher
” I don’t see any petite sirloin roasts
had I made a mistake?”
“no” he reply “
nobody buys those anymore. “
I ask “well I’d like to buy one and
cut it up into individual steaks
It’s cheaper” The situation getting Bleeker
His reply” that’s what we do with them.
Ma’am , If you want a whole one,
I’ll be glad to see if we have any left”

Winco is employee stock ownership plan
The employees have a share, so they care
I bought three bags of food; milk, eggs just a few things, no meat, the cost was $96.

Even the cost of a bags
Increased, from $.10 to 12 cents
I know that doesn’t seem like a lot  
but everything adds up. With the limited income, most Americans have got

Now we’re learning there’s poison in everything ;  in bottled water, toilet paper,
in our fruit, in our grain,
pesticides, GMO, GM, Chemical poisons
All these factors can drive one insane

How  do we know what to buy
people just want to cry
Research, research, research.
The CDC tells you
it’s all in the open,
they no longer need to lie

We were told to move away from tap water,
Poisonous chemicals Chlorine and fluoride
The beginning of a long and arduous ride

My friend took a shower
and broke out into a rash
What do you do for itch medicine  
without any cash?

They no longer scream conspiracy theory
Check the Internet, do a query
You will find what I say is true
All the things we are learning,
We never knew
Now, what course changes can we do?

“What now deer”?
As more things are starting to disappear, empty shelves, are what Americans fear
but nobody wants to believe
it’s happening here!

Humanity on the decline
Staying quiet is no longer fine

To market to market to buy a fat pig
Home again home again Jiggitty jig

INGREDIENT

TASTE

TEXTURE

RIGHT SEASONING

TENDER

SIRLOIN

LEAN

FLAVOR

SAVORY

COOKED

EAT

alarms have been raised
of a disturbance great
a fly has its feet placed
on Julias dinner plate

it landed fair and square
on her sirloin steak
and then without a care
on Helens chocolate cake

then it took a trip
onto Stevens crotch
followed by a sip
from his glass of scotch

and then from angry Andy
through its ***** snout
it took a liking to his brandy
until his angry shout

though loudest came from Jill
who screamed out every note
then suddenly all came to a still
it flew inside her throat