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Gabriel K Sep 2015
passion fruit panna cotta mangosteen melon summer roll jasmine tea 7” deep pan pizza 99p mozzarella pineapple green chilli Morrison Value Range Lasagne chips oysters greengages garlic bread Wotsits masala dosa ginger beer pho bở hash cookies spinach profiterole syllabub rhubarb fool Frappuccino blackberry & apple San Pellegrino Kia Ora mulberry Whopper Meal chocolate ginger ale vegetable thali chocolate biscuits ***’s apples champagne caviar blinis cigarettes ******* smoked salmon fig and balsamic chutney stilton toasted ciabatta Rice Krispee lamb larb nasi goreng som tam tom yum thousand year egg sticky rice Chelsea bun pisco sour empanada cerviche Quavers bacon Caesar salad Earl Grey fried vegetable tempura sashimi crème caramel fatoush ***** Martini Quorn Shepherds Pie oat-milk mango lassi Green & Black’s Gregg’s cheese & onion pasty Tesco’s raspberry turnover with cream garlic bread vichyssoise rocket Shreddies baked potatoes cauliflower au gratin bouillabaisse ratatouille tarte tatin butter raspberry macaroni cheese fatoush lamb shish carrot juice Lebanese bread-pudding wine parsnips potatoes: roast unsweetened marmalade Marmite white toast Sainsbury’s lager decappuccino G&T; Wall’s Tropical Solero Tropicana McDonald’s Apple Pies spaghetti carbonara scampi-fries tarte Normandie roast beef Yorkshire puddee horseradish sauce Spinach & cheese roti caipirinha stuffed olives tom kha kai salt & sweet popcorn green coconut Sprite battered plaice pineapple fried egg whitebait Nescafé Gold Blend Volvic After Eight
© Gabriel Kemlo
HB Oct 2010
Little bitty, battered bodies,
all broken and beat up.
Slathered in a spicy soy sauce,
tiny shrimplings I eat up.

Fast and fresh and greasy too,
fried and hot and sticky!
They take three minutes just to make,
till I crunch them little bitty!
Fresh-fried shrimp in Chinatown. Salt & Pepper Please!!
Hiro was such a clever guy.
he always said the funniest little jokes, even when he was Hiro-chan, to me.
he used to act like a cat when he was frustrated and, and-
remember what he said to the mailman that day, in like june?
about how he looked like an angry Hotei-osho?
we all laughed and that mailman, that man’s face went radish red.

he was such a good lawyer, Hiro.
i mean, he wasn’t rich and powerful, no
but he did good things, though.
like Sayotoma’s lease –
without Hiro, he would’ve lost the store!
and then where would we get our tempura? huh?

oh, Hiro, you are so much fun to talk about.
and i hate that all i have of you now is smoldering incense and an expired passport.
i poured a cup of water on your grave today, you know.
it was a hurting kind of hot under summer’s sun – it’s august, after all.
some steam came off, and it sounded like you sighing
and i said more loudly than i cared no problem, Hiro
and my wife looked at me, with a misting eye,
while my son kept flicking matches
from that cheap matchbook we got at Sayotama’s place.

all the failed matches collected between his sneakers
and i thought that i wish Sayotama didn’t make all his matches
so **** fragile.
they burst and blacken in a second,
and you don’t have the chance to really light something,
and they just end up falling between the sneakers
of some kid who can’t even remember you,
© David Clifford Turner, 2010

For more scrawls, head to:
Elizabeth Mayo Jan 2013
I love you, as a saint
with an aureole of gleaming autumn-burnt hair
an ecstatic shining and bright as the sun,
spilling forth with holy oil
with the face of a white-rose angel from Botticelli's brush,
with the heart of a tar-black demon, a serpent in the fiery bush,
a heavy pink blossom all dripping with honey
a sinuous and serpentine moth-silk scarf, fluttering in the summer air.

and I love you, loving and knowing that
I love you, as a painter
loves a streaked and bright tempura paint
here, sun-kissed as a yellow flower today,
revealing its thin translucent colours the next
and I love you, as one can only love
another who can only love a mirror
whether one made from moon-struck volcanic glass
or drawn from the lips of another.
Jenny Oct 2013
Bonjour, mon Cheri, mon petit Chou!
The doorbell rings with a solemn telegram:

- this just in -
I am exactly like most girls - in civilizations lost, or civilizations in other civilizations, Italy hiding in Toronto and a government hiding in a shameful self-promotion, and 20 seconds later I'm a poly-sci major (incorrigible!)

- 911! 911! 911! 911!
What's my emergency? What's YOUR emergency? But really, what is my emergency? And when it comes to that, What's in an emergency - an aristocracy in high-waisted shorts, an ice cream social (media) scream - lets back the car out and park and loop and inevitably end up in a straight line caterpillars away from
(The truth) - (but more of that later)

Cross-continental cigarette and now I'm running out of material to trade it for. I am lonely, can't you see? A fair trade, for a night with me-

(**** me so hard I can't walk, **** me over so bad I can't detour a one-track mind)

I am not the one Hemingway prepared you for, I will not blow smoke rings in Spain or wander the streets of Paris, I will sit right here lounging in a plaid vinyl sinkhole and carry myself with delusions of grandeur

(Beyond novels unread - yet sadly written - by the unwashed and falsely educated masses)

Life as an existential film, life as woe is me in backwards bus terminals. Life as when you marry someone you hate and life as cold tempura on a *****-stained tablecloth. Pass the peas, please.
machina miller Feb 2016
a giant orange rolls over the horizon
propped up by the skeleton of a titan
dripping citrus flesh o'er the land

as it's adversary ascends the briny depths
a colossal sushi roll, avocado and yam tempura
the battle of the senses begins

the apocalypse never looked so delicious
a hinterland
there has
corn and
orient ties
in court
with his
golden tight
sweater so
he'd cook
tempura right
with his
catch of
roughy 'bout
now and
in his
kind place
in Montauk
a place in montauk
Ottar Sep 2013
Color or colour compacted into a stick,
In the fingers of an artist, quick a slow trick,
can be performed, art before your eyes,
as the asphalt roadway takes on a disguise.

As the sun moves above the fog,
the warming begins and hours logged,
step by step each artist to their own pace,
they begin to add color, yes colour to the place.

Finger soft flesh chalked, bent knees, dusty clothes, holding
chalk stick court for public eyes, conducting the dust, loading
each shade onto the black tempura space to be a master piece,
there is planning, layout, maybe blocking and she says, "PLEASE!,
pass me the knee pads, asphalt is so ******* the bent knees."

The hours pass and fog drifts away, looks like a blue sky,
will be here for the day and overnight, no threat to erase, nigh,
day one is done, look forward to day two, maybe some rain late,
in the afternoon, oh no chances for thunder and lightening are great.

Performance art done with heart,
all know from the start, any water,
will wash away, the efforts, the hours,
that beauty was on display, while made.

No tears were spilled, and the glow of perspiration was contained,
This cat for tonight is the empress of her domain, Government St, Victoria BC

Victoria BC Sept 14 & 15, 2013
Drop by my facebook page to see who I was with and what she did!
See my main hello poetry page, black and white does not do the orange tabby, or calico, any justice
Ari White Dec 2015
my wandering eye is gone
ice to liquid
and liquid to air
the fundamental has changed
making it easy to see
you standing there
the pupil has dilated
and you are the origin
mr three hundred and sixty five degrees
left nothing in the margin

but love

brought my mind to a boil
deep fried my heart like tempura ice cream
with spoons in his pocket
and a smirk on his face
he told me to enjoy myself
cause we are beautiful
don't let it be a waste
Jon Shierling Oct 2014
Wakes up
texts good morning
eats last nights tempura
drinks coffee
and is empty

Tries to read
tries to think of other things
and can't quite find
comfort in old things that used
to bring some slight relief

Makes a passing remark
and is told that if one won't forgive
one will be nothing but bitter
and alone

Doesn't try to explain
that one can forgive
and possibly even forget
but that doesn't mean the same
as setting oneself up
for another betrayal

Misses dad
reminisces about some good times
long past and best left alone
and is irritated for that
***** in crumbling armour

Is a bystander
in a one sided tongue lashing
over pointless frustrations
chemically based
and promptly exits the scene

Is at work
burying half formed anxieties
underneath never ending problem solving
solving all problems encountered
except for one's own

At the grocery store
staring catatonic
through rows of frozen meals
uninterested in actually eating
merely performing a chore

Back at work
typing out nonsense and noise
not really caring for response
simply needing to affirm something

And then I got to talk to you
Sentimeantall Sep 2019
Filling all the hollows of your body and soul,
your waist can never be a waste
floating under my tongue
and I'll be traveling over your bare sensitive mountains
flying as the wind into your valleys,
feeling the grass on my cheeks
tasting your philomenal scent,
which slows me down -

a breath sends shivers

- only darkness withers
for a while -

and your lolling leads me
caressing along,

the awakening,

the vulnerable side
of your stretched arms

and slowly up,

my lips surfing
to your wrist,
where I finally rest and kiss
your life within the beat of your pulse.
Chase Graham Sep 2018
There's an eight wheeler,
with ice cold vapor
wisping upward and out toward
St. Mark's street walkers,
crust punks, do they think
of the frozen fish
and chilled shrimps
to the subterranean
Japanese market
I purchase tempura from,
probably not. This scene
is written, it seems,
for me,
my glassy eyes,
a wandering stare
toward a banal
displayed and private.
i may understand
it is family
making memory
the tent idea

this weather

the air the feeling
of being outside

a taste of freedom
with slight discomfort

yesterday i lunched out
and thought of you

your painting

today i paint
in my bala studio
put the collage together
i left it stewing nearly
a week ago

it has been an odd
sturdy time

with repairs and humbling

the recovery engineer came grumpy
to change my wheel so i talked to the recycling
man instead

he deals with electrical goods waste

enjoy the family
i have three cats too
mostly outdoorsy

no sounds next door
his car is there
i can see it if i lean out the window
he is a farmer

— The End —