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Tommy Johnson Feb 2014
He sat down at his desk
With his face buried deep into it
His sweatshirt road his broadened shoulders
Something about this guy interested me
He was new, fresh slate at a new school

We exchanged hellos
We exchanged names
I threw out an invite to chill
And he politely and happily accepted

There was something odd about him
In a good way
Offbeat
Offbeat boy
I gave him a nickname because his real name was to plain for him

I introduced him to my circle and they didn’t like him at first
But over time they became as thick as thieve
We all were
New bonds were made
Bridges built and doors opened

The things he would say
So random
So off base
So hilariously out of place
I loved it
I always looked forward to what he was going to say next

He was a true friend
There was no lying, no evil in him
He was pure, a pure person

He loved nature
His love was Mother Earth
Shedding at tear at environmental ignorance

He was socially awkward
He couldn’t talk to girls, or anyone that wasn’t one of us
He would get into fight we would have to talk him out of
The confusion he gave to the teachers and frustration he gave to the entire student body
He didn’t know any better

Writing a funny speech about what he would do if he was voted for class president
Then having it being taken as a threat against the school thus getting him suspended and having the police search his house for weapons

The complete disbelief of his guidance councilors
And the flabbergasted administrators were all gut busting comedies to us

As we approached graduation news of him going into the navy came about

And we were all in disbelief
But it was true
A boy who couldn’t life a five pound dumbbell was going to serve our country

Good for him

Even now I can recall our adventures up to that point
Staying out late and wandering the streets in the middle of a cold winter night
Cat calling at the mall, trying to pick up girls
Breaking things
Invading private properties
Avoiding police entanglements
Detentions
Suspensions
So many laughs
So many memories

When he left it was as if the once bright aluminous room we all shared was a little bit dimmer
But we were full of pride
We knew he would shine on else where

From Michigan to Texas to California for boot camp and training he went
Our friend went on a journey, his own journey

One year later, we all await his return

He is back, oh the change is overwhelming
He shines brighter, he’s witty
He’s mature, bold and confident

He’s become a man, he found himself

He has claimed his long sought after love

The one who has been walking a difficult path and strides in beauty

He made passionate love to her last night
He woke up from her house and came to mine at 5 AM

I awoke to find him sipping coffee in my kitchen; he had a smile in his heart that was bigger than the stupid grin on my face
I sat and talked to him, chugged my coffee and got dressed

No we were going on another adventure, two weeks
Two weeks with him was all I have
Then he’s being deployed for two years
He speaks of oncoming war with Syria and North Korea
His views have changed
He believes in war
My, my I’m astonished
This is my friend?
The awkward, soft spoken dude in my history class?
Now I wait to see what happens next
With one of my dearest friend, Chives
early, the crowd came to see

yellow, the famous arch .

laburnum.

i came to see the kitchen garden,

seeds growing, chives flowering.

humble plant sprout small mauve flowers,

bees come early.

yesterday mostly yellow and mauve then.

bodnant garden.

sbm.
Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Just as the earth puckered its mouth,
each bud puffing out from its knot,
I changed my shoes, and then drove south.

Up past the Blue Mountains, where
Pennsylvania humps on endlessly,
wearing, like a crayoned cat, its green hair,

its roads sunken in like a gray washboard;
where, in truth, the ground cracks evilly,
a dark socket from which the coal has poured,

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

the grass as bristly and stout as chives,
and me wondering when the ground would break,
and me wondering how anything fragile survives;

up in Pennsylvania, I met a little man,
not Rumpelstiltskin, at all, at all...
he took the fullness that love began.

Returning north, even the sky grew thin
like a high window looking nowhere.
The road was as flat as a sheet of tin.

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Yes, woman, such logic will lead
to loss without death. Or say what you meant,
you coward...this baby that I bleed.
Norman dePlume Jan 2016
The other marjoram and the clothes
Are chimes inverted for her story,
What if we had chives, asparagus?
And what, asparagus, if we had chives?

Why did all that rain fall
All day in the grounds
And on the bird feeders,
And through the clearing?

The neatest patrons are back,
Their statue tortured by your autumn sweater.
Then there is the storm of receipts.
The salad bowel needs sanding, but not this

Fall. Scatter the remaining marjoram like dust.
Sweet peas from melancholy gardens
Sautéed over her faux tofu.
Fruit flies like a banana.
Parody, after Ashbery’s “Album Leaf,” from Some Trees
Emily Nov 2018
Grown beneath the sun,
Holding the occasional rain drop,
Surrounded on all sides by companions.

Snip!

Cut off forever from nourishment,
Collected with a few companions,
No clue what the future will hold.

Moving swiftly through the air,
Higher than ever dreamed, but
Fearful of sky diving without a parachute.

Misted occasionally,
Attempting to maintain appearances,
Despite being starved of food.

Enduring more body-jolting aerial swoops,
Drowned in a swift waterfall,
Losing companions that did not maintain their appearance as deftly.

Chop, chop, chop!

Sliced into innumerable bits,
Wondering if life is over,
Now that one’s shape is forever lost.

Perfuming the air with a distinctive aroma,
Blending it with those already in the air,
From other small bits of greenery.

Fears realized at last:
Falling from a great height to the ground,
But falling on a soft cushion.

Smothered with white strings,
Rolled up tightly in the soft cushion,
No escape route possible.

Dying in the heat,
Spreading into the gooey whiteness,
Wondering what the point of it all was.

Eventually cooling down,
Being exposed to air once again,
And hearing (if it were only possible):

This is the best herb cheddar bread I’ve ever had!

Was the result worthy of the chives and Italian parsley’s sacrifice?
All who partook of the savoury goodness certainly believed it was!
We may never know how others will one day benefit from our sacrifices, but hopefully they will one day appreciate them.
MV Blake Apr 2023
I don’t want to talk to angels,
Not for me, the bleeding priest.
I want my ****** doctor
So I can find some peace.

I want a ****** expert,
Not a hippie with some tea,
Charging excess for the karma,
And no money guarantee.

I can’t take ****** ginger,
It brings me out in hives,
And you can take the Echinacea
And stick it with the chives.

I want the ****** doctor,
Tired eyes and cynic smile,
Who’s seen it all before
And has my details on his file.

Pull out your cold machines,
Test me to the hilt;
Try to find what’s wrong with me,
Before I ****** wilt.

I don’t want to wait for callback,
I’m not interested in online;
It’ll only tell me that I’m dead,
Dying,
Or I’m fine.
Dorothy Apr 2014
Green peppers
Red peppers
Onions
and shallots
Get ready for some intense flavor to hit your pallets


A splash of vinegar
Salt
Chives
And garlic
Your tongue will dance for joy and actually seem to frolic

Epis
Sos Pwa
Rice
And baked chicken
The taste buds in your mouth wont know what hit them

Four hours later and I've enriched in my culture
I'm almost like a new woman
Because today I learned to cook food from my parents native nation
The time and effort was so very worth it
And now I feel a little bit more Haitian
Creole Translations:
Epis = herbs and spices
Sos Pwa Rouge = Red bean sauce puree
Clouds,
snaking silently across the sky,
the howling wind is rushing by,
a bit like life
the reason why
I lay awake and listen to Bizet.

Resistance only tires you when
the end, inevitably blue
the colours always stay the same
grey, black ruins on my window,
what's the pain you feel when
Winter comes, when
daylight runs away and
snaking silently across the day
the clouds all seem to laugh as if
to say,
We're free as birds but have no wings, we
fly and you can only pray.

The winds that blow,
the trumpet sound, the trenches we dig,
underground,
I lay and  watch the clouds that fly
to me they're still snakes in the sky
and I remain
unsatisfied,
a bit like life and
then it died.
growing well, so we took you out

the glass house in to air not expecting

thundrous rain. we returned to find you

battered.



our apologies……



we  will love you and  nuture you

again



back in the green house.



sbm.
Jack Nov 2014
The Perfect Combination


A-1 on your sirloin
Butter on your bread
Chocolate on your ice cream
Or butterscotch instead

Cream cheese on your bagels
Jelly on your toast
Maybe peanut butter
Which do you like the most

Salsa for tamales
Lemon for your fish
Onion dip for vegetables
Delicious on your dish

Pinto beans in chili
Carrots cooked in stew
Bacon on your meatloaf
Chicken cordon bleu

Chives on your potato
Sugar in your tea
Pickles on your burger
Crackers for your cheese

Garlic for your pasta
Sauce upon it too
Milk poured in your cereal
Slices of fresh fruit

Gravy on your biscuits
Sausage would be nice
Cocktail sauce for jumbo shrimp
In a bowl with ice

Syrup on your pancakes
Frosting on your cake
Cream upon your peaches
A salt and pepper shake

Caramel on your apples
Seafood and white wine
Cottage cheese upon your pears
It’s so much fun to dine

Mayo on your sandwich
Ketchup on your fries
Dressing on your salad
Whipped cream on your pies

So many combinations
That we see each day
When we’re having dinner
Breakfast, lunch or play

To enhance each other
Nothing left to waste
Flavors come together
In the name of taste

There’s one combination
The best one I can see
Not to do with eating
Because it’s you and me

So perfect now together
Like ham on top of cheese
Lettuce and tomato
Onions in your peas

Wonderful together
Sometimes sweet or ****
Soft and always tender
This love inside our hearts

Of all the perfect pairings
Only one will do
This combination built on love
Forever me and you
A little Saturday fun.
BLitZeD Feb 2016
EG TEN /V.S/ BLitZ3D

ROUND 1

EG TEN
For the second time around, I won't be too gentle.// You turds can't rhyme for *****, soft as a noodle.// Get rid of that shirt, Wordman, do us a favor.// It ain't bad at all, its just, one size too little.// Ill break you fools in half, straw snapping like a scarecrow// Cowardly lion come out, Monster Smashed you innuendo.// The reason why you got passed by the first time around// Like a girl post some pix up, cut my **** in half, now u goin down// You and Wordman teams up, who cares! a pair of freakin clowns//

BLitZ3D
let um start off first, either way ur a representation of a man in a hearse /hurt um real bad n rubbed his face in the dirt/the pics that I posted was just a ***** in a skirt/sskkirrt! on this *****, like who you ****** with nerd?/ that's a ****** sweater what u talkin bout shirt?/ an what exactly do you think you rhymed off ****?/ ******* from the start, pulled out and drove straight into the curb/ Asian drivers man, they'll never ****** learn/ a coward vs a lion I guess my warning wasn't herd/ why'd you delete the first battle? you coulda reread my words/ then you'd probly remember to go again would be absurd/ but everyone loves a under dog, makes emotion go reverse/ cause then when you go under dog , the wears not even worse/ an no one teamed up on you,/ I tagged in and hulk Hogan lumped a few/ American Dream, elbow jumped at you,/ then to your defense, in ran gorilla monsoon/ the way I see it, the joker popped both of you,/ a heist on ur thread but that's just my point of view./ sights locked retical red, not a sound with the front mount/ knights drop, clown with a crown, and a jester in bed./ leave um slumped out/ /roar/ I messed with his head/ take my advice and this cypher ...just jump out

Round 2

EG TEN
Let um start off first? Now what the **** was that?// Your no king of the jungle, but a little ***** cat!// A blissful of zits in your face a sign disgusting// BlitZed does not show off his face an ugly duckling// My rhyme is in verse, so fresh with multiple gears on my Hearse// You can't spit for *****, so your *** be going in reverse// A fan of hulkamania? That **** ain't real brotha!.// I bet your next line would be "Hakuna Matata!// You ain't no **** Mufasa, your like that fool Scar hangin out With them ugly *** Hyena// I laugh at you BlitZed, I ******, I flip the script with my skills// Your elbow dropped not fast enough a straight kick up your chest!// This is SPARTA!!!! So jump on out! off to the next round// Welcome to the Writer's Creed, A true MC battleground!//

BLitZ3D
if this is Sparta then ***** I'm Gannicus,/ two swords in my hand while u attack with some shallow ****/ your **** right I'm scar and ull still bow down to this/ u wont get to far hyenas surround in the mist/ Hakuna Matata but theres reason to worry kid/ shoot um point blank an laugh as he say the dots are blury miss/ from his stomach out leaks guts an curry strips/ no lines to connect, his souls in a hurry, drips,/ out his mouth like his mom as she dines in nutty bliss/ bust um quick like his dad, his sister we both miss/ a cute little thing, deaf dumb n blind, snitch/ I think not, i broke her fingers, a tight grip/ dropped her leg and screamed Hogan wins/ layed on top of her and counted to three/ donkey punched that ***** in the head an continued to proceed/ so ask her how much I give a **** about writers creed //

ROUND 3

EG TEN
You claim to be a Marvel-Super-Villain-God-Like / If you are Galactus" I'm Lactose - Bacilli / Fermented like Lactic Acids what I spit!/ A genus of original but your just a make belief/ BlitZed please! step it ^ up a bit higher/ Your dealing with an oldskool underground ****** / None of that Kindergarten *****' of entry level / My words may be shallow but yet sharp as a Razor / Your write- wrist slice the veins blood burst just like a geyser / My word plays undefeated so try a little Monster / I sMashed your Baked Potatoe with chives a little butter / On side some bits of bacon a Cub is now a Lion / If you don't understand, im at work im eating Lunch / Im on break and wasted half of my time you little punk/ But its cool It's all in fun and that's what its all about / In a place full of infected A cesspool full of talent / Respect to my opponent a true Warrior of Poets / A Monster Mash Creator, A Master of Salvation / The bad *** Mr. BlitZed, Will continue this ***** later-/ Here at Writer's Creed, or where ever else you pleased/

BLitZ3D
A mutant, a radioactive contusion./My ***, gave it gas, now im ******* moving./Onto the end, the finish line, a ******* shoe in./Im new an, your old news, news i knew and /screws im loosing, as we pretend this battle im loosing, wrap it up with a few loose ends, /confusing, a thriving city, up an left it in ruins./Black cloaked, hooded druid, IV fluids, /Gat broke, firing pin, out i chewed it, trigger squeezed now, told you id do it./Ten teeth marks on the barrel, yea EG blew it./Face on some blue ****, stiff Elmers glue tip, /sticky grip, stick um up, Richy Rich, Jackson upper cuts, a Rampage, no *****./Bomb on the stage, chickens with no cluck./Took a bomb on stage, chicken heads, my ***** well ******./Salmonella poisoning, chocked the chicken, she likes it real rough. /In an out, left and right, my blade keeps the feathers well plucked. /Goose and a swan, I recognize no duck, bad luck, body covered up in the back of the truck./One G, no UN, i see, just me..no pun./Mission complete, no fun, grey skies, trust me, no sun.. rains not done. /Bars run from bars, bring the heavens down from the stars, impacts bombard/even from behind bars locked cars explode far, gorilla tactics, no holds bared, reload the AR/Re-roll a new cigar, as i retold, another page from Scar/12 bubbles Gage the contents of this unmarked mason jar./I know your popping some corny something, but i wasn't listening./Busy kicking it with Popcorn Sutton, drinking an smoking **** in the kitchen./These lines must be glitching, space-time the fabrics ripping./Physics are ******, i need a new physician./Watch as my feet move, roots grew planted in a quantum position./Like Groot, stomp um like a twig, raging tunnel vision./A ton of incisions, a gun mixed with questionable decisions. /A life for a life, changes nothing, for both sides the death penalty still glistens./the only difference is the same as this blunt. *****, BLitZ3D is still hitting. /Next time i roar a warning make sure you ******* listen... /
battle?
Im already bored with you
.....
I pulled a gun
And a sword you drew
LD Goodwin Apr 2013
Maybe Apples and Peaches this year,
Strawberries for sure.
So patiently the tender buds
await to grow.

And Volunteers are peeking through,
awakened from their quiescency,
where they performed their subtle dance
neath the Winter snow.

Chives and Thyme and Lavender,
Rosemary, Parsley, and Sage.
All happy and warm and full of love.
Oh no! Where did the Oregano go?

Garlic tops and Lemon Balm,
more fragrant edible things
bring Peace to these troubled times.
For Peace, we all must sow.



*anyone know this style of poetry? I am having a hard time finding it.
Harrogate, TN April 2013
Liam C Calhoun Aug 2015
The landlady pounds, one door left,
And my “Momma’s” chopping chives in the kitchen;
So I wince when
My black hat’s conquered wrought wool.

Right, and right out the window, the workers break,
And my “Uncle’s” feet crack, crack come the chemical grass;
So I concentrate when
My chopsticks carve pork.

“Up,” cries the baby, starved are the mice,
And my “sister” bids farewell to her soldier;
So I grasp when
My feet twitch to understand the cold, cold concrete.

Diesel cooks, so down goes the neighbor,
And the “Missus” smiles with our son atop lap;
So I admit when
I try to smile, I really do.

Herein lies the endurance, the rice paddies ancient,
And we’d all bliss ignorant, come the table we surround;
So I reconcile when
Again, I try to smile, I really do.
My in-laws live in what could be considered low-income housing in China; don't bother me none (save the ***** downstairs refining diesel fuel in his home whilst constantly smoking near the flammables), I love this place and it makes for some interesting sounds, sights, and stories.
there were no chives, so we hunted for ferns.

they are everywhere here, we wanted something
in particular, me with my green trowel, gardening
apron.

she was coming up the lane, head down,
i waited. a steep *****.

on looking up she smiled, and chatted a while.

did you know him? she asked, told me he had
died suddenly.

she went on her way, she has moved house
you know.

we went on looking for a fern, and
found one.
sbm
My Dear Poet Aug 2021
I found myself a seat at the table
among greens and violated vegetable
and I’m wondering if I am able
to stay calm and sit there stable
while staring into a Buddha bowl
searching for some peas in my soul

I’m looking down so hungry
the side dish appearing so angry
like that smashed green avocado
near the pile of mashed potato
and the cut and diced main dish
beside the chopped chives
and sliced spinach Quiche

These vegetarians are not so nice
beating the egg and whipping the rice
and this fruit punch I’m drinking
by dessert, has me thinking
they’re as aggressive, and more
violent and cruel, as a carnivore
Joe Cole Jul 2014
You know apart from writing poetry I design gardens for other
people just as an unpaid sideline
But come and take a look in my garden.
Rough laid brick edging round the lawn and I do mean rough
you wont see a dead straight line there
Flowers, hot oranges intermingled with reds and gold
No
Plants carefully chosen for form and texture
No
Rather a jumble of wild and cultivated plants doing their
own thing
White campion, red campion intermingle with white and yellow daisies
Scarlet poppies vie for space with rosebay willow herb
Sage and thymes in profusion
Great clumps of lemon balm mixed in with chives and lavenders
Foxgloves and hollyhocks in places they shouldnt be
Wild mallows and geraniums growing where they choose
And running wild my favourites of the flower world
nasturtiums
That then is my garden, my retreat, my oasis of calm
prim' Sep 2020
There was a witch
In the meadow near the forest
Living in a tiny house
With walls of woods
And roof of grass

There was a witch
Dressed in black
Picking Chamomile,
Sage and Thyme,
Rosemary, and Mint and Chives

There was a witch
Dancing in the night
When the moon was high
And the stars all out
Singing a song that no one knew

And I couldn’t help to wish to be that witch
For she lived happy and simple
i said it were a lovely day, i did not mean the weather.

i talk about the feeling, the mood that did not change, all day,

little tasks that please. planting chives in treacle tins, ironing pyjama pants,

and cotton handkerchiefs.

he warned me the rain would come, and when it did

heavy, we tucked in tight here, enyoyed the darker

green.

then, the rain will stop.

sbm.
HE ALLAN FAMILY STORY




SEEING ME AND MY BROTHER WERE INTERESTED IN THE SPORTS WAY OF LIFE

DAD AND MUM TOOK US DOWN TO THE KIPPAX GYM TO PLAY SQUASH, I COULDN’T HIT

A SQUASH BALL, SO I PLAYED RACQUET BALL, EASIER TO BOUNCE, AND I WON MANY GAMES

AND MY IMAGINATION, WAS AFTER WE PLAYED FOOTBALL ON  THE ALLAN FAMILY SPORTS STADIUM,

THE FOOTBALLERS WENT TO THE KIPPAX CLUB AFTERWARDS TO PLAY SQUASH, EVERYONE IN MY

FAMILY WAS A FOOTBALLER IN MY IMAGINATIVE FOOTBALL GROUND, PLAYING SQUASH OR RACQUET BALL

TO LOOSEN UP THEIR MUSCLES, AND MY BROTHER HAD A BIT OF A SULK, BECAUSE, A DECISION DIDN’T GO

RIGHT FOR HIM, , MEANWHILE BACK AT HOME, I LIKED THE IDEA, OF HAVING THE PRETEND YASS MAGPIES FOOTBALL CLUB

WHERE I WILL DRAW MENUS UP, LIKE CHOPS WITH GINGER AND CHIVES, RISSOLES WITH VEGETABLES AND MASHED POTATO,

THIS CAUSED A BIT OF BLUE WITH ME AND DAD, THEN MUM RANG UP AND I ANSWERED IT SAYING, YASS FOOTBALL CLUB

DO YOU WANT TO MAKE A RESEVATION AND MUM LAUGHED WITH AMAZEMENT SAYING, WHAT IF THIS WAS SOMEONE ELSE,

THEY WILL SAY, OOPS I HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER, AND THEN I WAS GETTING BORED OF TV

SO I WROTE MY OWN TV GUIDE FOR THE CHANNELL TVN/OBO, THE CHANNELL IN MY IMAGINATION, I PUT SPORTS SHOWS ON IT

AND ME AND MY BROTHER, HAD A HANDLE BALL COMPETITION, WHERE WE USED MY BROTHERS YELLOW SPONGE, AND

I OCCASIONALLY BORROWED IT, SOMETIMES WITHOUT HIM KNOWING IT.

I WAS IN THE LOUNGE ROOM TALKING MY PARENTS UNDER THE TABLE

DAD LOVED THE IDEA, OF TEASING BY GETTING THE LAST WORD IN

BUT MUM WAS DIFFERENT, SHE GAVE ME THE PEN AND PAPER AND

SAID, GO AND WRITE ANOTHER TV GUIDE, SO SHE CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT TO WATCH

YA SEE I WAS OBSESSED WITH TV GUIDES, AND I BOUGHT THE TV WEEK TO SCHOOL

AND PAUL WANTED ALL THE COOL POSTERS, BUT, I HELPED HIM OUT, I WAS NICE

POSTERS, ARE EASY TO COME BY, AND I BROUGHT MAPS OF CANBERRA AND

SHOVED THEM UNDER MY DESK AT SCHOOL, THEN I MOVED AND MANDY SAID

GET THESE STUPID MAPS OUT FROM UNDER MY DESK, AND I WAS OBSSESSED WITH LOOKING AT MAPS

I TRIED TO DIRECT MY DAD TO THARWA, BUT DAD CRACKED A JOKE TOO THARWA, MEANING TOO FAR AWAY

WE WENT TO TIDBINBILLA A LOT, THE TRACKING STATION AND THE NATURE RESERVE

I PLAYED BINGO WITH MY GRANNY, AND I WENT TO COLES DEPARTMENT STORE WITH MY NANNY

AND I LOVED THAT ALL SO MUCH, I PLAYED BINGO WITH LYLE AND ATE AT K MART WITH LYLE

LYLE WAS MORE OF AN OLDER BROTHER THAN A MATE, BUT WE MADE A PACT, TO GO TO

ACTTAB, TO BET ON THE FOOTY, WE NEVER WON, THAT IS WHY I DON’T DO IT NOW

I FELT MY DRINKING GRANDFATHER WHO DIED WHEN I WAS 3, SPIRIT WAS ALIVE WITH THE COOL KIDS AT THE MALL

DAD TOLD ME, I DON’T WANT TO BE ONE OF YOUR MOB TO ME, BECAUSE, I WAS TEASING HIM

I TEASED DAD, BECAUSE, THE VIBE WAS THERE TO TEASE MY FATHER

BUT DAD WAS A GREAT HELPER, HE WORKED HARD AT THE YMCA, AND AT ALL HIS TEACHING POSITIONS

DAD LOVED PLAYING WAR GAMES, ON HIS COMPUTER

ME AND MY BROTHER PLAYED A SOCCER GAME CALLED THE BOSS

WHERE YOU PICK YOUR TEAMS, YA SEE IT TEACHES YOU HOW TO BE A PROFFESIONAL SOCCER MANAGER

AND MY BROTHER HAD ALL HIS MATES TO PLAY DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS, HE ENJOYED THAT A LOT

L;IKE I ENJOYED PLAYING FOOTBALL IN THE FRONT YARD AND CRICKET IN THE BACKYARD

AND THIS WAS VERY FUN FOR THE ALLAN'S
Alan S Bailey Jul 2024
Completed Jimmy Dean Breakfast

Sang to the tune of Micheal Jackson's original song Billy Jean-1983

Verse 1
With the milk poured-bowl of cereal, hash-browns and melted cheese
I said, "got coffee grinds, sugar and cream and a cinnamon bun-
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.
Yea a cinnamon bun-with
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown."
Said "I just added sour cream, to the bagels with Philly cheese,
These pancakes almost burned, flip em' now-with a cinnamon bun,
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown."

Pre-chorus
Someone once told me, "be careful what you do,
Syrup goes terrible with salt... (Hee-hee)
And melted butter drippin' "be it food that's on the grill
And just add chives to as well, cold pizza's
Good breakfast to!"

Chorus
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
I just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...

Verse 2
For forty danishes and for forty pies, granola on the side
Choice of sausage or oatmeal with jam? Pineapple and ham
And a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.
So next some cream of rice
Some croissants should do just fine
(Yea, real nice) Do just fine! (A-hoo!)
I asked could we have blueberry muffins (please?) lemon cakes with whipped cream
Maybe even Frittata's and strawberry's on the side, they should do just fine (Oh, oh)
With a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.

Pre-chorus
Someone once told me, "be careful what you do,
Syrup goes terrible with salt... (Hee-hee)
Whatever kind of pasta you eat
Huevos Rancheros with chili's
Beef hash and sauteed mushrooms
Even got egg omelette's too

Chorus
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
Just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...

(Break)
Woo! Woo!

Chorus
Just put the griddles on, uh
Ya' know the waffles are almost done
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know the waffles are almost done
No-no-no, no-no-no-no
Just put the griddles on,
Ya' know the waffles are almost done

(Outro)
Just put the griddles on
Waffles will soon be done
Put the griddles on
Yeah, yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast
Jimmy Dean the sausage king and lots of breakfast food while sang to the tune of the well known song Billy Jean by Micheal Jackson.
Food humor lyrics Weird Al Yankovic style!
Mary Gay Kearns Mar 2018
Standing by the fridge
We could see the roses
In a flower bed
Beneath the kitchen window.

We took to tidying
The cupboard, together,
Where the contents had grown
Hard and dusty with time.

The roses were transplanted
From a London home
Finding leaving her garden sad
So carried them with her in a van.

We made pizzas for tea
Using a simple base recipe
Adding tomatoes and chives
Topped with grated cheese.

In the flower bed the three
Roses, fed, pruned and watered
Cleared of greenfly with soapy water
Flourished and bloomed in the sun.


Love Mary for her mother Grace Westbrook
Ryan Holden May 2017
Avoid your school lunches,
Not a singular crumb,
They can turn you crazy,
Stick to ******* your thumb,

Sloppy monster pizza,
Will eat you while alive,
Greasy fat saturates,
Stick to salad and chives,
Just a silly "kids" poem about school lunches.
Emily B Jun 2016
And I sit reviewing my week

I dyed my linen petticoat
With cherry bark
And iron oxide.
I have five colors now.
Almost enough
For a box of crayons.

I pulled weeds
And planted garlic chives
And two kinds of gourds.

Hoed the garden
In between rains.

Baked biscuits
Twice.

Picked old Bob
A bag full of kale.

Spun some yarn.

Ground corn meal
With a big stick.

Pulled more weeds.

Started cleaning
And drying
Chicory root.

And more stuff
I can't remember.
No wonder I am
Tired.
Sauerbraten with
Spätzle now
darling dearly
has chives
connect to
love caught
cheve in
her tie
that luge
down hill
with trigger
still fear
truth in
dire need
to flout
justice again
here today
A luge
Donall Dempsey May 2015
I remember your father
kicking in my womb.

The sunshine
fell on the floor

as if it were
worshiping me.

I felt just like I was
the ****** Mary or something

being told what was what

in some Renaissance
painting by some guy whose

name I can’t even
pronounce.

“Woah there...little one! ”
I said chuckling to the kicking.

“There’s still time enough...less of the rough stuff! ”
I tried to coax it into quietness.

“Don’t be in such...a hurry...I’ll still be here! ”
I smiled to it and myself.

Then I had breakfast of coffee
& scrambled egg & chives
with a little dill & paprika sprinkled on top.

Went on making baby
for all I was worth.

The paprika would explain
the red hair!

God...when it came...it was
a difficult birth.

Felt like a peach...split apart.

Beethoven came into the room
from some passing car radio

& then floated out again
as if he were gliding around
on his own notes.

I tried to follow
where the music was going

but it got entangled
in next door’s clothes line.

A pigeon walked up & down
the window sill

trying to look as if he was
very busy but he was only

passing time
&...poo!

“Shoo! ” I scolded it
and then wondered


what a pigeon would look like
in a *****.

Need a lot of changing!

I took a stray feather
from a pillow

balanced it on
my swollen belly

(God I was...huge!)    

& laughed
as it got kicked off.

“That’s my girl! ”
I grinned

‘cos I was
sure I was

having a girl

but instead
I was

having your father.

Always never knew where I was
with him.

He was always his own
person

even when he hardly even
existed.

Then when he handed me you
& I realised my baby’s had a baby

I just cried
& cried

...’till I
laughed.
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2019
The boy's sister is a real Russian
Jewish paradigm of teeth.                                              Alchemy is expected,
it is expected that more,                                          and more fluid is waiting,
and a long week is likely to affect
the invisible invisible desert of the Earth.
Marriage begins unmarried with an intriguing arcane magical attack
that burns an amateur mushroom box.
A planet was born without the son of Adina Medusa,
and the roof was a hole in the list of vacancies -
and often in the Western Cape, Tom's shadow was harmful.
Lady Slavic painting - Anna's student or veterinarian.
The magic carts and the Arab child
were the first to strike the knee. He is Prometheus
Ag "Prometheus is wise in heart,
Zeus came to the conclusion that fat is oil
and what do they make of whale bones?"
A collection of collections of Ovid and Theba?
The white saddle is red in color.

The heroes and their daughters follow
the moon in the future to 39 Russians,
Spaniards and the Holy Spirit and Alice,            William & Igor Sokolovich;
For me, I do not know the singer who gave him the fourth
The best woman in the world is health,
Echo chives, news, sport and fashion,
Lush and luxurious, organic, calm,  Pictures,
sounds or family, brothers and sisters, music,
German, music and live music
weapons; 39 years ago, Juiced Igor,
the Russian King of Roses,
the boy king, not to mention the young man,
compared to history, is a witness fleet,
a Latin city, a whole heart and parents,
and bad ones, pads and jazz, women's health,
children and grandchildren in the world.
Shock, a thirty-year-old girl, beautiful, new,
modern music, organic and world for the family,
brothers, music, magic fantasy,                                          death for the bush.
George removes fake glasses, bird, butterfly
and tree glasses in the tower.                                    In the foreseeable future,
the boy’s old French plasma wings are unknown to Jews,
unknown to the great joy of the Son
and the Holy Spirit; 39, Russian and Spanish,
for this reason it is wet;
Igor killed two local agents
National Department Dream World
Class Entertainment;    On Saturdays and in the temple,
the singers were Williams happy. Women's health,
intelligence, maiden mermaid, modern women,
high-speed movement,    ecological and beautiful parks,
psychotic pictures, books,      funny thinking,
dancing magic stories. Jazz Petroc - lies in it;
Merkel Forli will come to power, having lost her mirror,
Hermitrix, Mirik Risk, Pyrogora is very interesting,
her sleeping resources are afraid after a while
The best beans, remember that the gun
Igor's Sock Chili,         Russian king of the kingdom
                    [Igor's death] - the study
and etiology of young beauty leaders.
This is a Greek species of bird, an aticologist-logius,
whatever,                                                    the­ actual "why" and three more.
Common causes,                                            causes, arguments and reasons
for studying etiology.                                                The history of the story,
mostly doing or not, you are mistaken at the present time,
with some reasons for your body.
Therefore, a legend or an etiological legend — a legend of time,      or time must explain the occurrence of various social
and natural phenomena.              For example,
Virginia is a national history that explains
the origin of Annie’s history from the Roman Empire.
Religions,                 which many theologians
                        explain as the origin of stories
                       in the world and report loyally.  
           Or the situation often decides
to discuss the symptoms of etiology.                                         Epidemiology,
***, chemistry, etc. Sometimes the etiology.
Is an obvious process. The first etiology
of schizophrenia is not covered. Using pans
with fresh fruits and vegetables
is not the best sailor.   I do not know, Captain
James Cook asked for a vegetarian diet.
And he came back and every day, asked
to avoid the yoke of the bulls and bore fruit
from the effects of eating sunflower seeds.                                        Etiology,
Advisor - a strong Latin art.    Barbie -                        immaculate overthrow.
*****'s PARAGON, Masha's stomach.
Alchemists. Coca-Cola,||Tristan Tzara.||
Tristan Tzara was a Romanian and French avant-garde poet, essayist and performance artist. Also active as a journalist, playwright, literary and art critic, composer and film director, he was known best for being one of the founders and central figures of the anti-establishment Dada movement.

noun: paragon; plural noun: paragons: a person or thing regarded as a perfect example of a particular quality. "it would have taken a paragon of virtue not to feel viciously jealous"; a person or thing viewed as a model of excellence. synonyms: perfect example, shining example, good example, model, epitome, archetype, ideal, exemplar, nonpareil, paradigm, embodiment, personification, quintessence, standard, prototype, apotheosis, the crème de la crème, the beau idéal, acme; jewel, gem, flower, angel, treasure; a perfect example of its kind; one in a million, the bee's knees, something else, the tops; archaica nonesuch "a paragon of fortitude and cheerfulness". A perfect diamond of 100 carats or more. mid 16th century: from obsolete French, from Italian paragone ‘touchstone to try good (gold) from bad’, from medieval Greek parakonē ‘whetstone’.
Mitchell Oct 2014
Candle light
Onna'
Dead horizon
Woken up by a flashlight
That ain't
Mine.

Down by the water
We watch and squeal
Wondering to ourselves
How God
Truly feels

Light-hearted and wandering
Dead ended and graduated
We are the fateful few
To young to be forever blue
Got too much time an'
Not enough money
Somebody somewhere
Can you tell me where's my honey?

She left two years ago
And a day
She took my dog and my
Favorite pair a' shoes
Oh' lord...
What on Earth am
I gonna' do?
She smelled like lavender
And chives on a Spring afternoon still
Wet from the dew
Oh lord...
What on Earth am
I
Gonna' do without you?

Desperate accents
Ain't nothing bout' us that's recent
Made up a make-believe
It crawled right up my sleeve
Out of orange juice
And done with abuse
Never did find her
That lady was born
To be free and unwillin'

Got another notch
Underneath my belt
You know...
Can't say what is for
Got another rock
In my boot
And you know what?
I sure as hell
Can't shake it
Ah **** I'm broken
Ah ****
I'm stolen
No one around me
Knows my name
And ****
Looks here I'm all outta' change
If I could only take my life
And rearrange

Too tall to
Tell
The difference
Between falling in love
Or falling
Into hate
Lots of words
Lots of
Definitions
Lots of reasons
Why we do what we do
For simple
Recognition

Last call
Last chance
A star sputters out like a broken down
Ol' 55

Out in the distance
A cold coyote howls
Every cell in me
Down under my skin
Tells me:

We gotta' begin again
We gotta' begin again
We gotta' begin again

Tailored suits
Pre-ordered wives
Diamond necklaces
All in stride
Pearl buttons
Pressed pages
Souls too damp
To wear it to tonight but,
It's alright,
Take mine.

It's alright.

The wind for some reason
Is always better
On my

Side.
It is hot
hip
for the Sun to scorch my eyeballs?

sour cream for wild chives.

Getting on with the business
putting it out there
fuelling the engine and
filling with grief,

winter comes and at the most unexpected of times,

but it's how and how it is hot and finding a spot to reflect.

I always reflect
is that hip?

Sight now unseen
though blinded
I have seen
and have been
blind.

I wonder aloud
some time and sometimes
I chill
in the heat of
the Sun.
Donall Dempsey Oct 2019
THE NURTURE OF CULTURE

"Have you a working pulse...?"
he asks of his petunias.

They perk up at once
to Pericles.

"...she sent him away cold as a snowball..."
he whispers to his gladioli.

Once again the Pericles
does the trick.

They positively beam at him
eager for more Shakespeare.

"Oh yes...oh yes...flowers...!"
he pontificates

"...adore Shakespeare
especially Pericles and other minor plays

rather than the great Dane
or say Othello!"

I gasp hardly believing
the flower's Bardolatry.

The herbs prefer
Gilbert and Sullivan.

"Really...?"
A ha...be my guest!"

I tentatively  approach
a sprig of oregano.

It looks startled
being sung to!

"Poor wandering one
though you are sad and lonely...."
"

"No no my son...herbs
like to be spoken to...not sung!"

Ahem, I
try again.

"Poor wandering one
Though thou hast surely strayed..."

The oregano dances
in the breeze.

"Or sometimes my son
a little dash of Noël  Coward!"

"What compulsion compels them..."
I sing to the chives.

"And who the hell tells them!"
before being interrupted as before.

"No no my son
spoken not sung!"

"Why do the wrong people travel, travel travel
When the right people stay back home?"

"Excellent...excellent one
of their favourites!"

What could I say?
His voice provoked such a fecundity

that could not for a second
be doubted.

"Oh yes...oh yes when one talks
to one's garden one

must bear in mind
that flowers and herbs

prefer a little culture!"
Laying in wait and
the selection now playing
is,
what was I saying before the jukebox cut in?

I believe when I see it
my hearing's off key,
show me don't tell me
or
else leave me be.

But the bandwidth is wider which
sits well with the cider and
the beat as they say carries on.

Someone puts cheese with some chives
for the ploughmen, how then
and where will I eat?
and the band carries on,
but I'm beaten.

Gone are those good times under the sheets.
I read between the give way signs and
the stop lines and the
hard times are here.

The teardrop only shines for a moment or two
then the bad times are filtered away.

The selection selected though I've not yet perfected the play,
but I know that there's always another day to
lay in wait and one more when I lay in state
and another which will have to be
another notch on my belt.

— The End —