satisfying, slightly sweet
an orange spindle shape
something enjoyable to eat
very good for your health
crunchy in every bite
yet full of robust wealth
to improve your eyesight
with a hard and rough texture
it's green bloomed leafy top
helps balance out its flavor
such a great nutrient to savor
diced, grated, wild or raw
shredded even sliced when fresh
in any cookbook there are so may
ways to prepare this delicious and
enjoyable golden orange vegetable
As i lay asleep last night
my mind wondered through the window and out of sight
catching a ride on a passing crow
it went places i’ll never go
Gliding it passed over palms and rivers
swooping under waterfalls left me with shivers
rising on a warm sea breeze high
it watched the golden sun set and with a sigh
Returned begrudgingly to where bedridden i lay
paralysed, a vegetable as they say
There was never before heard
Such a cacophony
As the day I witnessed
The vegetable medley
'Since you've bean gone'
They blasted out
The runners and broads joined in song
They could have rocked it all night long
But it was Taters turn
They rocked the stage
The veggies went wild
The 'monster mash' was all the rage
Then was petit pois chance to shine
He wowed them with a dance
Then made the broccoli sway and weep
With 'Give peas a chance'
Beets are Greatly Misunderstood
They Make sugar from them...
Because they're Sweet
All kinds of Treats
Candy, Cookies and Ice cream
Doughnuts, Cake and Pralines
Girl Scout Cookies and Frosty Shakes
You should Salute the Beet for all it Makes
I hope I opened your eyes to
All the things that Beets can do
You see me sitting there, oblivious to what is surrounding me.
And I appear normal and good to you so you decide I'm the one you want.
You're excited that you found me and how perfect I seem.
Once we get home you start to explore me, only to be shocked.
One the inside I am not the quality you saw on the outside.
Silly human, only the strong and good ones make it through what we experience.
Imagine being ripped away from your home, going to unknown places alone, heard words of different tones.
Being put into a crate with no way to escape.
I'm sorry I'm not who you expected me to be, I'm not one of the strong or good ones you see.
you hated poems so much that you
became one, sweetheart
(tell me, does this suit your tastes?have i gone too far?)
i tried to write a love poem and it turned into a suicide note that doesnt belong to me
i guess you didnt find it romantic when i called you carrotseed,
when i pined so much that i turned my love into a grove of trees
you make comparisons between me and natural disasters like it's a habit you can't get rid of
but there's nothing natural about the way my heart beats when i see you
baby, your eyes have never looked better
Finger tips gained much weight,
As it slumbers in stagnant pulse.
Eyes no longer can blink to close the sorrow of empty solace,
While caretakers play the same video for the last decade of existences.
Like an empty glass of wine,
Does he reflect nothing to anyone.
Just a lifeless shell,
They do not see him!
A void without a soul,
and living without a life.
Don't give up on him,
He is aware of people's view of the vegetation.
Consciousness still lurk around the body,
He is not a vegetable!
One clove a day
health eternal I pray
that it is not true,
for I am well short
of the twenty two thousand
to have been eaten
by this date
one plant if it were new to enter
anywhere, would not pass inspection
as a common garden vegetable,
it would take decades and investigation,
to give the nod to forty garlic chicken
or even to transport one clove.
some say it is the taste,
to others it is the waft,
of air in advance of the consumer,
knowing it does the body good,
but if one eats garlic and your mate
must too, or there may be a break in that allure
is a toxin buster,
if you can muster
can raise a whoop,
from a troop
of the healthy.
eat it raw to digest
your will to resist,
that all will cease
and desist, to disagree.
eat it cooked,
make it good,
that it would
all the benefits
The Flower Sellers
Rushing with their bundles
The Milk Vendors
Cycling with their milk cans
The Newspaper boys
Sorting out their packets
The Morning walkers
Warming up and stretching
Pouring out their teas
The scarfed mill workers
Speeding for their shifts
The vegetable vendors
Carrying their head loads
Flowing from a distant house
The night shift workers
The Municipality workers
Cleaning the streets..
The city is waking up
Or did it ever sleep?
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.
I don't want it if it's meaty.
You like to eat entrails
A bit like zombies--beastly!
to make the thing called "Veal".
I can't believe what you go through
for your tasty high priced meal.
Black- soil-stained hands,
Weaklings at my feet,
Today we thin beets
So the others grow strong.
The beet is my spirit animal
In food form, but
Not the weak kind-
I am the strong one that is good enough
The beet is discrete
The beet is a vicious vegetable
The beet is humble, dirty,
Beneath most humane things
The beet is ugly, absurdly
I often wonder how it could be natural
But the I remember Hell is natural too.
I dream of beets
They are at dusk and dawn
In the desert monsoons,
In menstrual cycles,
In the blood of my enemies I want to slaughter,
When I roast and handle my beets, they are the
blood on my hands I can't rinse off
The black soil remains under my nails indefinitely
When I’ve forgotten about the beet,
The beet has not forgotten nor forgiven
I piss and shit and spit red
The beet never leaves me
Beet, please, never leave me.
The sand hides the sun.
Through a fog of particulate silica.
For the first time in my life,
I may look upon that glowing
bearing, for minutes straight.
That rock it flings,
Paints on the light.
Now the water vapor hangs,
Amongst its spiny rays,
Creating a mist of cloudy haze.
My eyes must seek to,
Alas they lose this skirmish fray.
The sun cannot hide its specter.
The doppelganger image always,
Dapper and prim.
Amongst the thoughts in rift entrails of brain,
I think i am my brain. I don't think that when, head cut from body,
Shall my soul reside where my heart was;
Instead I may see, conscious, from where the two parted.
Creating a scar from which to view this hazed sun.
How the eyes,
Are the only,
I can be an Ammonite with many chambers calcified.
Ghost fossil human head.
A ghost in a shell.
My eyes will carve shapes from the clouds.