"veal" poems
There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don't mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet,
Because I think that is sort of sweet;
No, I object to one kind of apology alone,
Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal,
And they apologize because the anchovies aren't caviar or the partridge is veal;
They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests,
And they apologize publicly for their wife's housekeeping or their husband's jests;
If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn't by Scott,
And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot;
They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can,
But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them,
I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them,
Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious,
And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious,
And what particularly bores me with them,
Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them,
So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf,
Which is don't spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.
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No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).
Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).
No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run
to
***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).
Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
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I'm the best, there ever was
Can't get with me, at da club
Other poets, need to respect
My reputation, I'll protect
I got a 9, pen in my hand
Write your name, in the sand
To me, you can't never stand
I ain't afraid, to let out a curse
Write you in, an ugly verse
I'm da best, you da worst
You can't, stay with my meter
I spit sick, iambic pentameter
I'm da truth you da cheater
You rhyme like Armstrong rides
You have to dope, ya got no rhymes
You da Cheech I'm da Chong
I write, you smoke da ****
You da burger, I'm da veal
I earn likes, you freakin still
You got da, cheesy *** rhymes
Droppin' words, like love & sublime
I put the free, in free verse
You all about, Nonsense Verse
I drop a sonnet, makes his head Shake
I'm the Chaucer, you da fake
I'm a Lyric, you the Lune
You can't quit writen', too crazy soon
Your stuff is dirt, mines the moon
You want a challenge, get in the ring
I'll make you cry but your mama sing
You'all poets, you got to know
You da fluff, I'm da show
I'm the king of the poets, HELLO
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
Night sets,
The sun falls.
Moon and stars become uncovered.
A pink faced child crawls under the covers.
A cardboard book is clutched in soft bands.
A f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
looks innocent and careless.
Mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig,
their smiling faces send the child off to sleep.
That child remembers that story.
They remember the smiling faces of
mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig.
That child is no long a child,
they no longer read that cardboard farm book.
They remember their childhood with that book,
they blur into one.
They see a barn just like the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
just like the picture in the cardboard farm book.
They stop to revisit their childhood,
they stop to revisit their innocence,
they stop to revisit those smiling faces.
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is only a step away,
that no longer child pushes open the sun warmed door.
They except innocence,
they except those smiling faces,
but they did not see what they expected.
The innocence of their childhood was a lie,
there are no smiling faces here.
This is not the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from their cardboard book,
from their childhood,
they blurred into one.
Mother hen is not smiling,
her beak is cut off with a hot blade, she cannot move her wings in her cage,
her daughters are taken to live her fate,
her sons are ground alive to be feed to her,
mother hen is not smiling.
Baby calf is not smiling,
baby calf is just born,
then taken by a man in blood soaked boots,
baby calf watches helpless as their mother cries,
as their mother chews the metal bars,
as their mother fights the electric shocks.
Baby calf does not know their father,
neither does their mother.
Baby calf is put in a metal cage,
they will live a year or two,
baby calf will not move,
that is the point of veal.
Baby calf is not smiling.
Wiggly pig is not smiling,
wiggly pig can only wiggle,
only enough so her babies can drink her milk,
she cannot reach them though.
Wiggly pig will watch her babies grow,
but beyond what is natural,
beyond what their hearts can handle,
but there is a big demand for bacon.
Wiggly pig can see her babies hung from their hooves,
and slit open alive,
but wiggly pig can only wiggle.
Wiggly pig is not smiling.
That f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is not as innocent as the cardboard farm book.
That farm in the book,
it was a lie,
but that cardboard farm book was their childhood right?
They blur into one.
Their childhood was a lie.
That no longer child lived a lie,
because power wanted them to only see the smiling faces,
they wanted them to believe that farm in the book
to be true,
not the lie that really is.
Power took away their innocence of childhood.
Power took away babies from their mothers.
Power took away my smile.
The f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from my child no longer sends me off to sleep.
Instead it keeps me awake with the image of a farm,
not the farm in the cardboard book though,
a farm not filled with smiling animals,
a farm filled with cries, blood, sorrow, pain, horror, death.
A farm that is a lie.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
I
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away.--And they never came back!
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Prosecco cocktails, être pour la danse,
cassis pour moi avec limoncello,
madame, passion fruit, and blood oranges
très grownup, breakfast at Tiffany's,
she is all sunglasses and Audreyfied,
me and George P., struggling writers,
checking if i got enough cash
or have to exit smooth, just in case,
maybe we leave our
coats behind, as ransom?
lincoln center plaza cross-dressers,
past the opera,
the sun, a balmy thirty five degrees,
laughing at us teasingly,
cause tonight and tomorrow,
*********** all the day,
winter kisses
in case we forgot,
early March
first belongs to the Ides of Winter
Afternoon of a Faun,
another ballet, origin,
a Mallarmé poem.
(you begin to comprehend)
yes quite so,
a perfect synopsis of the day,
Acheron imported from Scarlett Liam
who lives in the U.K.,
but comes to choreograph here,
for gloria Americana
sundown, soul cold back,
"lest we forget,"
but the dancers bid us adieu
with a rousing waltz, frenchified,
La Valse, une poème chorégraphique,
by Ravel, bien sûr!
aroused and heart gladdened,
return home for
for veal chop love
two hours of *** banging,
kitchen banishment, (Yay!)
chanterelles steeped in red wine,
coverlet for a non-vegan tasting,
English peas, red and purple potatoes,
and for desert,
a diet dream of verbal exchanged of detailed
I love you's
He: I love you,
She (happy), replies: I love you more.
(this repartee ballet, has been rehearsal danced before)
He: Why?
She: Because you are kind and generous, to street beggars, my single friends, good and smart, love art,
and never let me down, and love my cooking, leave space for others when you park, go thru life making waiters and ticket takers smile and laugh, sleep for hours your head on my hip, write me crazy love poems about veal chops
He: What's for desert tonight?
She: A ****
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
In your past, this past
they weren't valued
no one said they were members of the family
what walks on four legs and is furry and cute is only
to last as long as nature intended and then to be disposed of
Veal calves in crates, taken from mothers on the day of their birth
to make more milk for humans, horse slaughter for glue
and foi gras, ducks and geese locked in a vice grip of their cages
metal tubes rammed down their throats and force fed until a liver disease
develops, painful, but given no respite
and served as a delicacy and
fur coats from animals skinned alive right here in America
still when mink farms are outlawed in the Netherlands and
two million dogs and cats skinned in China every year not to mention
other horrors and no one cared or looked their way because they are
only animals, and voiceless and helpless and no one cared to give them
a voice or advocacy
"that's why they're there, for our use, people still say" who profit from an industry
of suffering
And today, there are people who try to give them a voice and there are veterinarians who will try to help you with your member of the family, as he suffers, in his old age
a bag of fluids hangs from my exercise bike, and intermixed with my medications
is the painkiller and anti-nausea pills for my dear old friend
whose pancreas is failing
and father, this is foreign to you
you pretend it is a crime
silence is the only thing connecting us now
I hope you enjoyed your last barrage of unkind words
I think you did. The saddest thing I've learned about people like you
is
you feel better after such an attack, to see me reeling, bleeding on the ground
and you feel better, calmer and purged.
A kind of misbegotten peace settles over you
an exploitive peace from another's tears and pain
And yes, father, there were no agencies to give a voice to children
when you were young
no CPS, to aid my nine year old ***** friend
as a code of silence enveloped her attacker
to protect him, the one who destroyed her
But today there is a small brigade of a modern kind of love
to give a voice, protection, soothing to the ones who can
only suffer at our hands and not protect themselves from
our wrath and exploitation
and it is a better world for that, father
for my furry pancreatic friend and for any other
nine year old **** victims here
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
What would you like for dinner, Honey?
Pork? Beef? Human?
Ah, I’m never sure about human.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a free range or organic human ever,
Which has always surprised me, seeing as they choose the environment they live in.
Haha, they have the most ridiculous hierarchy of alpha males and leaders,
The psychopathic lead the docile.
I find it hard to eat this animal,
Always in the back of my head are the rumours
That they have a conscience
Somewhere underneath their thin skulls.
And all the controversies,
About it not being quite human meat,
Or being diseased,
Or the weirdoes, with their
“where did humans come from anyway?”
They barely have any meat in them anyway,
Useless animal really.
Sometimes it’s just fat, sometimes just bone.
I don’t like the chances.
Too much risk.
I think I’ll have some foie gras, or maybe some veal.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
The cows graze in their pasture
Subservient to their master
Who doesn’t move faster
To help avoid disaster
So the cows are on their own
To deal with snow
Those all alone
Completely froze
Yet those who know
To use the warm glow
Of company that showed
Survive temperature lows
The cows used to solitary grazing
Now begin embracing
To fight cold air they’re facing
That is life erasing
While frost is lacing
The grass once worth tasting
The winter refuses to yield
As snow builds in the fields
The cows’ cohesion is revealed
As they protect their veal
And forget to steal
To connect and heal
During this ordeal
In times of inclement weather
The cows huddle together
Like someone pulled a lever
That won’t stay locked forever
So eventually ties are severed
As summer comes
The dumber numb
Thinking they won
Soaking up sun
Knowing winter is done
They divide into ones
A flow line
Of the bovine
Slow grind
Shows flies
Grow wise
With no size
They devise
To go for eyes
Cows go blind
In their mind
And cannot find
Their herd in time
Pretty soon the irritating fleas
Give them mad cow disease
As they don’t look to please
But put the good on their knees
While they’re hiding in trees
And biting with absolute ease
Seeing the absence of immunities
From their lack of community
The lost independent
Weather defendants
Become repentant
When they hear encroaching
Thunder clouds approaching
The cows become hectic
From a storm electric
Their formation eclectic
So they feel unprotected
But a fence was erected
So they can’t join the dejected
And this lonely life they elected
Is sadly reflected
The lasso angler
Hassling wranglers
Unmasked as stranglers
Bring the herd together
As they pull a lever
That’ll stay locked forever
As the cows’ heads are severed
And the horns in their head
Stick around once they’re dead
As we eat what they were fed
While they made their own bed
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Don't try to move
Just Be still
You must prove
It"s your will
Just be,
Quietly
Silently
Chill
No technology
No phones
No emails
No fax
Mythology
Bones
Trails
Relax
Thoughts flow through my head
like streams upon the riverbed
Constantly haunting me
Is it a plague or am I free
Wondering what it is I truly do seek
On this Hedonistic journey for pleasure
Once I finally reach the highest peak
Will I even care if there isn't any treasure
And even if there was, how much is really ever enough?
No matter how much was there I would still feel rough
The journey is over, but at least you can buy more stuff
Many toys to play with but your hands are tightly cuffed
Look a brand new thing to crave
How much money did you save?
I"ll take that secret to my grave
As a true consumer ridden slave
Everyone wants what they just can't have
Eyeing your neighbor"s prize like a vulture
Euphemise it veal instead of saying calve
Euthanized a deal, our throw away culture
I want more more more, that's mine not yours
So blessed to have our choice of each amenity
We"ve bore ourselves into consumer ******
So stressed when all we should seek is serenity
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
A bite of meat
I dare not eat.
I'll have some fruit instead.
No milk for me
Why, can't you see?
I'd rather have some bread.
Faces haunting
Proteins taunting..
I don't want it if it's meaty.
You like to eat entrails
and brains,
A bit like zombies--beastly!
Hormone laden,
Child-sacrifice
to make the thing called "Veal".
I can't believe what you go through
for your tasty high priced meal.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
In a misguided attempt to escape you
I fled to Nietzsche.
Weak
Inconstant
They are cats and birds
At best, cows,
he mocked.
I don't know about that
But I've never stolen glances at a cow
And felt my heart turn to ash
At the gentle devastation of its beauty
While praying that the mild curry in my mouth
Somehow shrivel up my tongue
And singe off the unspoken entreaties simmering within.
(And my affection for cows
Extends only to veal cutlets)
Today
Nietzsche and curry failed me
Tonight
It'll be the familiar embrace of alcohol
Until you fly back to Beijing.
After which
Are other substances and their derivatives
To deal with the fallout
Your transient smile
Wrought on my worn soul.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
It was wild
You know that type of wild
That doesn’t let anything tell its journey
It’s the stripes, the scars and freckles
Its all there
It was the type of wild of intimacy and the passion that rises in one’s eye
It was falling and never touching the ground
It was like pinching stars from the sky
It was touching the clouds with your soul
it was the wandering the stolen dance
And leaving your hands on the ground.
A wild that would never make you hard
It was so soft
But so freaking yellow
Burning burning burning
Oh man did I burn
As I sat near a pale, I swore not to touch it
It was wild as wild could be
Open beautiful, emotion pouring rivers of gold
Long grass
A veal of freedom a loss of control.
It was wild
Raw
Endless
And we were lost in the adventure of the creeping green wilderness dancing through forests until our hearts had fall gently together.
scraping the mountains like eagles and diving like sea birds.
oh this life
Oh it was wild.
Heres to living as giants on Monday and ants on Sunday.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
I hate myself
I've lead a life that a lot of people don't understand
feeling the need compartmentalize my life to the point I don't even know who I am
stopped wanting ***
even now find it crass and crude
just another way for people to use me
afterwards feel see thru and ugly and gross
wilted sunflower to be culled from yr bed
even if mutual with ample loquacious lovers
I curl up in ball
don't let them look at me
in ugly failure skin clown mask
the **** of all yr jokes
'he's great but he's quiet'
talk on
everyone just seems so cruel
I weak like veal
tender for the taking
fry me up
straight from womb to pan
cowards make the best cuts
of wet meat to ****
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
I have vowed to no more eat that which harms,
And to the best of my abilities,
I do so.
I see no difference between the cat you pet
And the lamb you slaughter.
I see no difference between the dog you play with
And the calf you tear from its mother.
I see no difference between the pet birds in cages
And the male chicks thrown in the grinder at birth;
They will produce no eggs, we have no use for their lives.
I believe it is not the role of man
To deem whom should retain their lives
And whom should die for a moments self-gratification.
Vegetarianism is wonderful,
Every little bit helps; less humans eating meat,
means reduced CO2 emmissions
and less world wide poverty,
The grain that could feed a hundred hungry mouths
Is not used to produce single burger patty,
For a single peckish man.
But drinking the milk of a cow,
Eating cheese and eggs
All contributes directly to the meat industry.
Dairy industry is veal industry;
Dairy industry; milk, eggs, cheese all supports and prolongs the practice
Of killing and eating children.
You ask that we respect your choices;
but you do not understand that your "choices",
Your learned eating habits,
Your probing questions of "what do you eat then?!"
And your arguments of "But meat just tastes so good"
Are directly offensive to all we stand for,
And all we fight against.
To me, arguing that the taste of meat,
Makes the living conditions of these animals ok,
Is a kin to the argument that slavery is fine,
Because the work gets done quicker if you can use a whip.
It is a kin to the idea that **** isn't that bad,
Because it at least feels good for the ******
It is a kin to the comment that women are inferior,
Because men could beat them in a fist fight.
You will instantly think I am radical in my views,
You will try to brush them off as the rantings of a crazed vegan
Or you will stop reading
Because you really do not want to see what I have to say.
But I give you only the truth as i plainly see it.
If you must eat meat,
Hunt for it and **** it yourself,
Let it live a real life first,
And respect that for you to eat,
It has died.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
Peaches and pears your delight
Divine roses a gift from your wife
Your favorite soups and stews
Lamb and veal cooked to and fro
In silence in your hammock
Hoping the sun melts the cancer away
If I were there
I would rub your brow and wet your lips
If I were there
I’d warm your sheets and fluff your pillows
If I were there
I would bring you home under the old oak tree
If I were there
I would fill your house with sunflowers
If I were there
I would sing sweet poetry melody
If I were there
I would lay next to you and comfort you
If I were there
I would read you prayers
If I were there
I would have said goodbye
My knight and shining armor
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
There was an old man of Three Bridges,
Whose mind was distracted by midges,
He saate on a wheel,
Eating underdone veal,
Which relieved that old man of Three Bridges.
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Farmer Jones set out to build a barn
A shelter for his bovine
When the wood started disappearing
A little at a time
The cows were taking it to pasture
On the other side of the dell
Little by little in the middle of night
Hoping Jones wouldn't be able to tell
This plans been festering for ages
At least since some of them were veal
But cows aren't very good at telling time
So how long is really hard to tell
Anyways they know they have a plan
That's what matters when it comes down to it
And what it is they've been planing
Is "Bovine One" The Rocket Ship
This time they're going to the moon
They had a cousin who jumped over it once
But that was so many years ago
And cousin Eddie has long been somebody's lunch
They got the plans out of Science Illustrated
When Carl went in to use the can
The day Farmer Jones stepped out of the house
A little secret the cows are keeping from "The Man"
They know nothing about jet propulsion
So the cows broke down and asked the goat
The smartest of all the farm animals
Another little secret nobody knows
In the process of building they used galvanized nails
The goat said in space regular nails would rust
I never would have thought of that
I guess goats are even smarter than us
When "Bovine One" The Rocket Ship was completed
It was on a Wednesday the count down did fall
The day Farmer Jones noticed his wood was missing
And the authorities were called
As they began to investigate
A bright glow came from over the hill
Still to this day no matter what people say
They don't know what the object was nor ever will
The Rocket Ship is still up there in orbit
With umpteen cows inside
Next time you hear a cow moo, look up cause you too
Could see "Bovine One" as it passes by
Did they ever make it to the moon?
No one around really seems to know
I bet you could get the answer though
If you were to go and ask the goat
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
I was there the day the sun
was a ****** embryo & you
finally awoke under sick blue
mist.
Do you recall when Nell’s femur
fractured and she cried the way a cow
bawls when it is realized the calf will be
someone’s veal dinner.
Do you think of these times
or has a lardy mealworm crawled within
your nasal cavity & inched into your brain
to erase memories?
Gathering atop our 100 year old
dogwood, blackbirds beckon you daily
to return to your home of devastating
trauma.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
I'm Runnin Jews like Lil Dicky
Run the Jewels, and Ricky
With soso flow of Biggie
Ever since I quit the ciggie
Livin life straight propper
Givin props to Big Poppa
I'm off the spliffs and poppas
Writin riffs for beats that drop ya
Lingerie ladies who have
Curved bodies tight Mercedes
Hot as Hades 420 degrees
Just hot enough to chrisp my cheese
Torchin these trees
Straight from Belieze
Blowin Bolivian keys up they ***
As their friends ends they pass
None of y'all thought this Jew could last
Two days past your last meal
Didn't really know how to feel
Cause I ****** you so raw
Y'all got mistook for veal
That means hyper tender
No allussion to child *** offender
Call me a money stack lender
Back ****** but never a pretender
If I split her in half
God'll have ta mend her
This **** is known to send ya
Into bliss quick
That feeling'll stick
When the tip touch they lower lip
They get oil slick
Just the thought get's 'em hotta than a candle wick
Though you know I don't flow with no trick
Start off slow so we can show each other
Our flame be sure not to smother
Like an over protective mother
Reflect on it while it's lit
Climb inside my mind
See how I visualize thee
Undress and become pantiless
You're sittin on my face
I impress with the pace
I carress your **** with tongue
Spell sinless you'll be a wet well
When you see how well I'm hung (do tell)
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Thousands of grains of rice boiled and resting
on the lining of unconsumed human veal. No one can **** the dweeb
who suckered that one kid at the party out of drugs
with the help of the cutest girl there. He knew how to hurt
the best in the world with one word.
Sweet tea and *** goes much deeper than the ribs
and out the back door much faster than a deadbeat dad. The stomach
rumbles the world far worse than a string of serial rapists on trial.
World hunger is a yo-yo doing pendulum swings over summer BBQs
drinking and popping *** and candy from the local radio station.
“I'm sorry I felled you. I should have done better by you. I love you.”
Vague women with just five minute existences of commitments, those Senators of Love
vying for second and third terms
before they sink into those holes in South America you hear about
in the news.
Men know nothing but control. Women know nothing but control.
Numbers know nothing.
Collapsed tunnels in the mind of Prometheus
before calendars and Twitter and liquor
just the dark and blunt
objects
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Round the path these wraiths walk
paced to keep the gears turning
save for a few this is Lady Justice
her arms holding even the smallest souls
sounds of buzzing and locks clanking
dominate above the incessant chatter
backyard handshakes hidden from prying eyes
dogged deals shaping these shatter lives
and the word of the day is always "waiting"
taking one last look at the hands of time
before that dreaded voice bellows through
then its the cold slap of flash on cement
these veal on twenty three hour lockdown
spinning their tales these jailbird tailors
lying to each other for stolen smiles
each in a different stage of the same life
bathing in the omnipresent light of fireflys
dreaming of a wisp of smoke or a hand stroke
whichever waits for them on the outside
they'd believe in the patience of the buddha
if religion were on their tapered tongues
as it is there's always faces against the glass
eyes peeled to savor the brief passing drama
apathetic to the other prison dog's plight
drooling for the next passing hour
as they count them like sheep herding sleep
cleansing their conscience in the communal rainshower
everyone praying for the wings of freedom
to fly them from these sullen gates
the others still suspended in solitude
letting one man tell them when to eat and wake
their voices becoming mere whispers of wind
poets robbed of their rhymes and words
grown accustomed to breathing processed air
measuring their time in months, weeks, and years
locked away with the shadow of their fears
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
I want to take you to the city
and put your name in lights
after spending the day seeing
all the touristy sights
I'll take you to a restaurant
We'll have the finest meal
music will be playing
you'd pick lobster over veal
I'd smile across the table
watching you decide
on cake instead of creme brulee
and of course instead of pie
there'd be women all around us
beauty of all sorts
and still my eyes stay on you
for no other can compare
none has your intense gaze
your lovely sea blue eyes
no lips can match your lusciousness
to me you rise above
We'd leave the restaurant
I'd see it in your eyes
disappointment for you thought it then
I'd saved the real surprise
We'd travel to a busy street
and walking hand in hand
I'd stop and kneel before you
look into your eyes
the lights would flash on behind me
The message beaming bright
I'd read to you a poem
trying to sum up in mere words
the reasons why I love you
and want you in my life
I'd ask you the question
If you would be my wife
I'd take you to the city
together we'd see the sights
we'd have a picnic in a park
we'd find a tree casting shade
and stare into the sky gazing at the clouds
and watch families stroll by
our hands clasped tight together
we'd speak our dreams aloud
the family that'd be ours someday
of a life well lived, the love we'd give
as night fell on the city, day fades away
we'd find a restaurant to eat a meal
and talk about our day
I'd feel the box in my pocket and wait
the moment would be right
I'd thought and planned and knew
tonight would be our night
you ate the cake, instead of pie
I watched you with a smile
the world around us faded out
reaching out to caress your face
to feel your so soft skin
the words I had prepared
seemed so very thin
we paid and leave into the night
the stars shining high above
I take your hand in mine
and we slowly walk
returning to where our day had begun
the lights are out, the park is dark
and then we see the glow, an island of light
we reach the center, there's a fountain
surrounded by a sea of candles
the water burbles happily
I kneel before you in this man made sea
the light it dances on your skin and I know
where to begin, with the love that I feel
and how your love has helped me heal
how I know my life is with you
and with a question I stake it all
be my love, my wife, my all
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 10:18 AM UTC
I’d like to introduce myself to you today,
I’m Joe Nobody.
You’ve seen me before, I’ve worked for you for years.
I was the crossing guard at your children’s school.
I was your janitor; I emptied your trash and mopped your floors.
I delivered your goods by truck or took away your garbage on Sunday.
I delivered your mail in the rain.
And you never even knew my name, but that’s ok.
See, I’m not special like you,
I’m just plain old Joe Nobody
I don’t drive a Mercedes; I drive a beat up old Dodge.
You wear Armani suits and my clothes are sort of hodge-podge.
But my hands know the feeling of an honest day’s work.
And no one in my life ever said “That guy’s a ****
My pockets aren’t full, but what’s there was earned with honor.
So with that I’m off to the store to buy supper for my daughter.
I’m not looking for anything special, no big fancy type of ordeal,
Just a box of mack-n-cheese, some veggies, and some veal.
Maybe a small piece of that cake they had on display.
Then I’m off to the register, goods in hand and ready to pay.
“Hello Julie, how are you doing? How was your day?”
She smiled that I remembered her name, and that I cared enough to ask.
See she was helping me just then, though we’re just regular folks.
Not special like you.
I pulled up in front of my small home.
Sure it ain’t much, but it’s warm inside and well lived in
The roof doesn’t leak, not even a bit.
And the fridge is covered in magnets that hold my priceless art collection.
It’s all drawn in crayon and scribbles of course.
Mostly pictures of a pink unicorn dolphin horse.
I still laugh at those…..
I opened the door and walked in to the sweetest voice saying “Daddy’s Home!”
I dropped to a knee, bags in hand to hug an Angel.
I, Mr. Joe Nobody, hugged an Angel today you see.
Maybe you never knew my name; maybe to you I didn’t matter at all.
So I’d like to introduce myself to you today,
See, I am a Father
And in the eyes of the most special little girl,
I’m not simply special like you.
I am a Super Hero!
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 2:00 AM UTC