Lasagna
La-la-la-la-lasagna
You want-a some-a lasagna magnifico
Or a-maybe spaghetti
Ay, you suppers a-ready now, where you go
Mama mia bambino
Mama mia bambino, samatta you
samatta you, samatta you
You should-a taste my lasagna
Ay, you no like-a lasagna
Thats okay too
How about-a calzone
Some-a nice minestrone, ats good for you
Have-a some marinara
Have-a some marinara, I know-a you like
I know-a you like, I know-a you like
La-lasagna
La-lasagna
La-lasagna
Would you like some-a zucchini
Or-a my homemade linguini, its hard to beat
Have-a more fettuccini.
Ay, you getting too skinny, you gotta to eat
Ay, mange, mange
(gargling)
Ay, you-a pass the lasagna
A-dont you get any on ya, you sloppy pig
Have-a more ravioli
You-a get roly poly, a-nice and-a big
Like you cousin luigi
Luigi, luigi, capisce paisan
Capisce paisan, capisce paisan
La-lasagna
La-lasagna
La-lasagna
La-lasagna
Hey
Hey
(laughing)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
In general I love to eat anything. I enjoy anything that is well prepared, a good spaghetti, lasagna, taco, steak, sushi, refried beans.
quote by Martin Yan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Me Write You A Happy Poem
after ten years
you are inside a bus
going back home
bringing the bacon
your mother hugs you
your father kisses you
surrounded by brothers
you take the pictures
dinner time is joyful
your favorite lasagna
and red wine and
roasted chicken and
jasmine rice
at night you all sit
on the grass
telling more stories
watching the stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lasagna
this is lasagna
your favorite dish
at the bottom is
love
on the second layer
is regret
the fillings of
meaty lust and
spices of
hot desire and on the
top layer is this
pretense
one does not bite it
and then
you settle for hate
fuming madness
of love
unrequited
you wish the tongue
is dead
or the teeth of the
non-taker
crumple into
sand
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Day More, Another Day Perhaps
his lines have always been sad
you will later get a taste of his ways
a custom
not really a trend, it is just that way
with him
a mystery, a mist, mostly moments of mourning
be glad he did not mention about the funeral
and the wake and the wailing of the women
but this matter about sorrow and pain
can be a subject of a discussion
a matter only of an asking
a favor for no favor
perhaps just for a change
like you want another menu in the resto
italian lasagna will do
or a beef steak for two
he is not that hard to please
he will cater to your request
he'll take you to a merry-go-round
and have a ride the whole year round
he will promise, one day more, another day perhaps
a happy poem, a victorious line, triumphant warps
just wait for he is still wiping his tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Marriage (3)
and then you become one
like glued wood to iron
it will be shaky sometimes
she does what you do not want to be done by her
and you too takes revenge
precisely, you also do things to get even with her
you will know what is hell
but both of you get fed up sometime about these
disagreements
you try to agree on some rules
a meeting of the minds so to speak
you bring her flowers and chocolates
and she cooks the best lasagna for you
you come home early and she meets you
on a very soft bed and scented pillows
you make love
you whisper her again what you once felt
you tell her
and she will tell you too about the mysteries of love
that must be shared
you kiss her she hugs you
you are gentle and she is sweet
till then, you begin to find each other
anew, refreshed, and committed
in marriage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tim Horton's Trattoria
How can it be
Lasagna in the world of fast food parody
Of course its factory frozen long ago
Things are getting weird along fast food row
Try eating this on the go
Fowl cries the Colonel of long ago
With his famous finger liken jingle in tow
Is this the fate of Tim Horton’s we know
Can sailor’s share A ground soldier’s battle field and still hold the line
The Colonel of chicken fame knew this ethical line
His advertisement never did patronize
Poke fun, lead on or try to manipulize
Now along comes Timmies to shake down the free
All over a simple cup of coffee
poem by Nick krakana
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My Sad Cinderella Story
You seemed like a really good catch
until that night at your place
dollar store votive candles
boxed wine
and for dinner
frozen lasagna
you picked up at the drug store
when you got your industrial
size bottle of opiates
now my good catch
began to rot
Mom always told me about
how many
fish there where in
the sea
and I had to land you
the cheap
broke
slimy
bottom feeder
Mom also said it's just
as easy to fall in
love with a rich man
most millionaires
avoid cheap dates
dull and dusty
conversations
and dollar stores
So I dream of
my knight in
shining armor
and pray he
doesn't
rust before
I find him.
I'm suffering through
a Cinderella story
on hold.
poem by Robin Bennett
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Roses Are Free
Take a piece of tinsel and put it on the tree
Cut a slab of melon and pretend that you still love me
Carve out a pumpkin and rely on your destiny
Get in your car and cruise the land of the brave and the free
But dont forget to understand exactly what you put on the tree
Dont believe the florist when he tells you that the roses are free
Tke a wrinkled raisin, and do with it what you will
Push it into third if you know youre gonna climb a hill
Eat plenty of lasagna til you know that youve had your fill
Resist all the urges that make you wanna go out and kill
But dont forget to understand exactly what you put on the tree
Dont believe the florist when he tells you that the roses are free
Throw that pumpkin at the tree
Unless you think that pumpkin holds your destiny
Cast it off into the sea, bake that pie and eat it with me
[repeat]
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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BOB
I, man, am regal - a German am I
Never odd or even
If I had a hi-fi
Madam, I'm Adam
Too hot to hoot
No lemons, no melon
Too bad I hid a boot
Lisa Bonet ate no basil
Warsaw was raw
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
Rise to vote, sir
Do geese see god?
"Do nine men interpret" "Nine men," I nod
Rats live on no evil star
Won't lovers revolt now?
Race fast, safe car
Pa's a sap
Ma is as selfless as I am
May a moody baby doom a yam?
Ah, Satan sees Natasha
No devil lived on
Lonely Tylenol
Not a banana baton
No "x" in "Nixon"
O, stone, be not so
O Geronimo, no minor ego
"Naomi," I moan
"A Toyota's a Toyota"
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Oh, no! Don Ho!
Nurse, I spy gypsies - run!
Senile felines
Now I see bees I won
UFO tofu
We panic in a pew
Oozy rat in a sanitary zoo
God! A red nugget! A fat egg under a dog!
Go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ever Had a Nine-course Meal?
Ever had a nine-course meal to set you on your way?
Perhaps to start, a glass of wine aside a cheese soufflé.
The second dish could be of fish, so how about Paella?
Check with Chef to see it's cooked – you don't want salmonella!
Now for the third we'll hot it up with spicy beef kebab –
You know we wouldn't want the feast to feel a little drab!
Before the fourth, you'll need a lager – taken from the keg.
And in this cooling interlude, enjoy a chocolate egg
Before the launch of number five: a roaring Indian curry –
And since our table's near the loo, you'll have no need to worry!
But now to take the heavy stuff: a whopping great lasagna;
However, this is rather special – a recipe from Romania!
Risotto makes the seventh course with red Italian wine,
Then you'll benefit from dessert, with chocolate mousse divine!
Oh - and afterwards a stretcher as we serve course number nine!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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at the easter party somewhere in the Philippine islands
i am thirty minutes late
i expect that everyone of you must have started dinner
those on the table of important names
must have already been seated in comfort
and slicing the beef and sipping their champagne
and those of lesser importance could have already lined up
to pick up their choices: chopsuey, lasagna, fish fillet or salads,
things did not happen the way i expected it
i become part of the waiting people, another thirty minutes
the reverend who shall bless the food is still somewhere
this is the party of fools and waiting is the bad game
there is no exact time to start, and every minute is flexible
the reverend has to say the final word
and we are but some kind of appendices on the book
there is nothing poetic in this thanksgiving, nothing at all.
the rice has gone cold, the grease turned solid, the guests too gullible.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love Only One Girl
(words & music by sid tepper - roy c. bennett)
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
In paris there is mimi, and when the moon is bright
I love to take her walking, along the seine each night
I kiss her on the left, then I kiss her on the right
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
Im proud of my brunhilda, in frankfurt on the rhine
Oh shes a lot of woman and all of her is mine
Oh she can lift a steinway as easy as a stein
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
In naples theres maria how she can cook and flirt
You cant beat her lasagna, I eat until I hurt
And then she tops it off with amore for dessert
Oh, I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
Oh I love only one girl, the one I got my arms around
I love only one girl, one in every town
I love only one girl...i love only one girl
I love only one girl...i love only one..girl..
Shes the girl for me...
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salvage
Daily the cortege of crumpled
defunct cars
goes by by the lasagna-
layered flatbed
truckload: hardtop
reverting to tar smudge,
wax shine antiqued to crusted
winepress smear,
windshield battered to
intact ice-tint, a rarity
fresh from the Pleistocene.
I like it; privately
I find esthetic
satisfaction in these
ceremonial removals
from the category of
received ideas
to regions where pigeons'
svelte smoke-velvet
limousines, taxiing
in whirligigs, reclaim
a parking lot,
and the bag-laden
hermit woman, disencumbered
of a greater incubus,
the crush of unexamined
attitudes, stoutly
follows her routine,
mining the mountainsides
of our daily refuse
for artifacts: subversive
re-establishing
with each arcane
trash-basket dig
the pleasures of the ruined.
poem by Amy Clampitt
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May Your Last Poem Be Not
may your last poem be not about me.
not about you either.
not about us, far from what i conceive it to be.
not about the world, it is as mundane as a soiled shoe.
not about the sky, it is highfalutin like your way of choosing words.
sometimes, you are somebody that i have to reread for me to really
have a glimpse of what are you all about. a broken glass. a sad tune.
a sour milk. a rotten flower. a dead bee. a butterfly wingless.
i like to say some nicer things about you. Like a flower in perfect bloom.
a caterpillar finding the perfect place to hide its cocoon.
a rainbow with both feet on the hills filled with green trees.
a south beach diet. a purse filled with coins. crisp dollar bills smelling like
lasagna pasta.
i want to say everything inside my mind without fear of censorship and reprisal. I am proclaiming my freedom from restraints. To say something
illogical and senseless and shameless.
may your last poem be not about me. may it be beyond me. beyond us.
may it be not like any other poem. melting in slow fire. shedding off.
lights shut.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Number Is 4.
The tiny capillaries of the gumamela
I see. I like to open my palms
Somewhere in snowy Vienna.
Nordic walks
On this month of the year.
No coffee. Just green tea.
Just lasagna and pasta.
No rice. Red tomatoes.
Strictly English, but my little german will
make a little fun. Danke
schon. Yes, gratitude counts wherever
we go.
I do not wish to waste myself away.
I must travel now, or if I don’t
I may not find a glimpse
Of eternity.I like to call a friend
In Calgary and crack a joke and stomp
My feet and make the hardest laugh.
She must hear it.
Soonest.I don’t like
To tell her, I don’t read in my room.
I don’t eat much either. I don’t pray.
I left my rosary in Sto. Rosario.
A child must have found it, there
Is no sign that it shall be returned.
Got tired finally of listening to
A young priest’s sermon. He needs a new
Haircut.Or perhaps a boyfriend.
Could be a sugar mama.
I recall the names of women
I make up in bed before I sleep.
There are so many. So untrue. But
There is one name she knows. I like
Her buried there. In her conclusions.
In this memory, tears fall inward
Like a movie played in reverse.
I don’t really like life.
But I still breathe air, like
A hungry man
Grabbing with all hands
Pizza and iced tea. Not minding
Young girls on the other side
Of his table. The number is 4.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Missing in action
Although she’s mopping the kitchen floor,
Ella is crying.
Words come out of her husband’s mouth.
Some variation of “Stop now, Ella.”
Ed’s a good man,
keeps his lawn trimmed,
stays away from liquor and the racetrack.
Neighbours bring meals.
Roast chicken, gumbo, lasagna.
Ella remembers her father saying,
“Food is love, the only way some folks can speak.”
Roland’s room.
Ella stands at its threshold,
looks again at the wall poster of Sly Stone
wearing a rainbow-coloured cap,
on stage at Woodstock,
once a hit-maker,
once a hero.
Evenings, after dinner,
sometimes Ed moves towards the record player,
then shakes his head,
knows Ella isn’t ready,
tells himself
that the quiet,
after an eight hour shift at the brewery,
is good.
Ella removes the candlestick holder
from the dining-room table,
to work further on her quilt,
the story of her sharecropper parents
told in panels,
told in thread and stitches,
their days of work and prayer
sewn into a field of cloth.
In the quilt
trees appear.
Trees in which
a girl could hide,
pretend she was a bird,
flying away from her home
of plank and tin,
flying away from the South,
following the moon-lit railway tracks
all the way to Chicago.
From his armchair,
Ed looks up from the book he’s reading.
He cannot see words
only Roland,
lying in mud,
flies crawling his face.
Ed closes his eyes
until the image leaves him.
There is Ella,
still at the dining-room table,
working on her quilt.
Ed watches the threaded needle
dive and resurface,
guided by his wife’s steady hand.
poem by Peter Bakowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Multiracial Festival of Love
We are going to celebrate this Valentine’s Day
In style, New York’s style
On top of the pile
Of the black and white snow
On Eastern Parkway
Not too far from the subway
Let’s clean up the graffitis
Let’s fly the balloons and the confettis
The streets will be wrapped with a giant rainbow
Soul food everywhere, hot patties and pâtés cordés
On every corner; griots, hot dogs, hamburgers
Including Asiatic and African cuisines
Bring more lasagna, more appetizers
More soda, all kinds of rice and beans
More quiche, more kool-aid
More punch and more lemonade
Play the music, twist and crack the knees
Rock and roll and chase the bees
Oh! This is our way of celebrating Love
With the blessings of the spirits above
Love has no color, Love is colorless
Cupid is wearing James Brown’s vest
He is getting down with Erotika and the rest
Do you get it? Love will forever remain the best
By the way, love is like the air
It is a spirit that is floating in the atmosphere
No one can touch it, no one can see it
One can only feel it, enjoy it
And make the best of it.
We are going to celebrate this lovely day
With friends since there are no strangers
In the festive valley
The children are happy; the women are dressed like flowers
And the gentlemen are doing what they always dream
Of mimicking all the time, you know what I mean
Don’t be too prosecutorial, don’t be mean
Have fun while guarding your self-esteem
The spirits are with us, they are colorless
How about that! There is only one race
Turn of the lights, touch your face
Tell me what you feel, love is like a mess
No one can truly describe it
Paint it, color it
And make the best of it.
Let’s enjoy today as if tomorrow
Will never come
Let’s chase the sorrow
And welcome
Everyone, Love is in the air
Let’s be happy, just and fair
Let’s celebrate Valentine in style, New York’s style
On top of the pile
Of black and white snow
Inside the circle of a heavenly rainbow.
poem by Hebert Logerie (February 2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mom Song
This is for mom
Miss Linda Harwood
Miss Cathy Hill
This is for you.
I respect my mother
With every step I take
She was there for my first step
In the first place
Everybody wants out on their own
Now that I'm grown
I wanna be back home
In a world full of vipers
Only my mother's love was righteous
I feel I've been to hell and back three times
I could never sum it up with these rhymes
Looking for a story to share
With somebody, but they never seem to care
While I'm looking for this person everywhere
I'm slippin', cause my mom is right here
Life moves along so fast
When I see real love at last it's past
That ain't gonna happen to me
I can hear my conscience rapping to me
It's like Hey, you've only got one real friend
From the cradle, to the grave, and back again.
With unconditional love
That's my mother I'm speakin' of.
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
And I know it's true
Even in my darkest time
In my darkest hour
When my heart is blind
And I'm giving nobody respect
My mother's there to put my ass in check
And she don't play that mister famous trash
She was putting them diapers on my ass
She's seen every side of me
It don't matter how thuggish I'd try to be
NAW every week in the back yard
Now I'm in the big time, trying to act hard
What mattered when I looked a years back
Was mamma, bringing the chairs back
Supportin' every dream I got
You best believe, man, I dreamed a lot
Me and Rude Boy, I'm trying to tell ya,
Not a day goes by in life, we don't feel ya
We ain't taking nothing for granted
Mom's lasagna is so good I can't stand it!
Mrs. Hill always greets me with a hug
Now I see where Rudy got all his love
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
Everybody around me, they use me, and go for self
They want cash, equity, bank and wealth
Mom puts that on the shelf
All she cares about is my health
It all seems too good to be
As I'm battling life, mamma's backin' me
And she only really wants one thing of mine
Just a little time
Mother, in this world of scars
Money and snakes and labeled wars
Whatever else life puts me through
It's all #2
When it comes to you.
And your love is all I treasure
My real father just didn't measure
He was gone, without a thing to say!
I know he would have failed in comparison anyway.
You gave me 3 times the love
Enough for you, him, and the God above
Rude Boy, his daddy was strong,
Stayed holding on when the ease was gone.
Now a days, everything's all right
Millionaire rocking these microphones all night.
Makin' all of our dreams come true,
And we're full of love, mamma, thanks to you.!
I'm still sorry about the china cabinet
Wish I could bring it all back now, dammit!
Linda, Ron, Cathy and Ryo
We want you to know that we love you.
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
My love will never change (My love will never change)
That's just the way it is (That's just the way it is)
(Mamma)
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Mama
Honey, I think audreys a little mature for you
No I dont think shes mature I think shes nice
Hey mom when are we going
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Dont wrap me up in cotton wool
You cant treat me like a fool
Anyway if I was, you gotta let me be one
Ok give me your advice
Its not my fault if I cant be wise
Show me a person who hasnt been done
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Dont try to stick your rules on me
I wasnt born as a carbon copy
I came out of you
But dont think that you own me
I have my respect for you
I wont try to change the things you do
Give me a break
Let me learn it my way
You think you know more than me
Experience hasnt set you free
Look mama I love you
Look mama, look, look mama, look
Look mama I love you
Loom mama, look, look mama, look
I gotta make my own mistakes
Why cant you treat me like a friend
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
But you gotta let me live my life
Look mama I love you
Look mama, look, look mama, look
Look mama, look
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bambino Io, Bambino Tu (Legenda)
Lui stava l seduto nel giardino,
ed era quasi nudo e piccolino.
Da dove era venuto non lo so,
era normale che lui fosse l.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Sembrava primavera ed era inverno,
e c'erano dei fiori tutto intorno.
Doveva essere buio e c'era luce,
e tutto quello che mi piace.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Mi sono seduto in terra l vicino,
ed era lui mio padre e lui mio figlio.
Ho parlato di cose che non so,
di cose che non ho saputo mai.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
Poi mi venuto sonno l in giardino,
cantava e la sua voce era sottile.
Mi sono svegliato e lui non c'era pi,
c'era un fiore di carta al posto suo.
Io avevo un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Mi sono svegliato e lui non c'era pi,
io avevo un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Bambino io, bambino tu.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah...
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
song performed by by Zucchero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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