A person who arrives at a feast when the cooked meat is being pulled out of the pot does not know what was endured by others to catch and cook it.
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Who Have Done A Great Sin?
The person who killed a living being, say animal or bird
The person who has supported and witnessed the killing
The person who bought the meat of the deceased animal and bird;
If you think twice, even
The person who cooked the meat of the same and
The person who ate the cooked meat;
All the five are considered to have done a great sin.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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I don't cook - I can cook - but I'm not very good. I like being asked over for dinner, because she can't cook either. We would starve if it weren't for modern technology. I know how to work a microwave, but love home cooked meals.
quote by Mark Mothersbaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farmer And The Stray Dog
the farmer arrives
bringing with him his
viand and rice
places it in the corner
of his hut,
the stray dog
gets in through its
sense of smell
and finds its catch
the farmer's
viand and rice
the catch is taken
far away
the farmer
is not angry for soon
a woman with a long
black hair arrives
bringing him
his broiled fish
and newly cooked rice
the woman is not
his wife
and there they are
under the shade of
the mango tree
the stray dog watches
as this story unfolds
to the final chapter
inside the hut
on such a very dark night
the dog is clever
and it knows the ending
the farmer is not angry
for dogs. mind you,
never tell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Duck! Don't Stick Your Neck Out
How many quacks does a quack quack quack
before he ducks for fish?
How many ducks does a quack quack duck
before his fish is fished?
How many geese's goose is cooked
because they ate up all the fish?
How many cooks cook geese
before their goose is cooked?
How many fowl fall foul
of fowl hunting cooks?
How many fowls' geese are cooked
before they flew from a foul hunting cook?
How many ducks' goose is cooked
because he didn't duck duck duck
when a fowl cook reached for his neck?
poem by David Taylor
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Pulled Up
Mommy, daddy, come and look at me now
Im a big man in a great big town
Years ago who would believe its true
Goes to show what a little faith can do
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up pull me up pull me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up
I drift away to another land
Sleeping dreaming such a simple thing
I think of things that I might be
I see my name go down in history
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so string now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I tripped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled
You pulled me up! pulled me up up, pulled me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up
I got up
cause you pulled me up
I stood up
cause you pulled me up
I got up
And that was because you pulled me up
I got up
In a little while you pulled me up
Pull me up up up up, up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
I cast a shadow on the living-room wall
Dark and savage with a profile so sharp
Keep that wonderful food on the table
Theres really no hurry Ill eat in a while
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I slipped,
And then you pulled, you pulled me up!
Pull me up...pull me up...watch out!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Friends
A certain person came to the Friend's door
and knocked.
'Who's there?'
'It's me.'
The Friend answered, 'Go away. There's no place
for raw meat at this table.'
The individual went wandering for a year.
Nothing but the fire of separation
can change hypocrisy and ego. The person returned
completely cooked,
walked up and down in front of the Friend's house,
gently knocked.
'Who is it?'
'You.'
'Please come in, my self,
there's no place in this house for two.
The doubled end of the thread is not what goes through
the eye of the needle.
It's a single-pointed, fined-down, thread end,
not a big ego-beast with baggage.'
What's the Big Deal?
Can I,
Be Mean?
Do I,
Choose to?
No!
I can curb my anger,
If a fire hydrant is near!
Or...
Become distracted by spinning hubcaps
Shining on a speeding car
To chase.
Or...
Amuse myself,
By running around in circles...
To catch my tail,
When I'm getting none from you! ?
Isn't that what you think of me?
A dog.
Barking...
After you've yanked my chain,
To satisfy your urges
To hear my growl?
And then give me looks
As if
My going ballistic
Suddenly occured for no reason,
Because I couldn't find
A lost bone I buried in the backyard?
Isn't that what you discuss with friends?
How I can go off on the deep end for nothing?
All they need is to be here...
Alone.
With you.
For five minutes.
Listening.
To you constantly whine,
Over 'my' decision
To season the tasteless meals you prepare.
And you expected me...
To eat meat you cooked,
I could not chew...
IF I had three sets of dog teeth,
And a chisel and a hammer!
Can I,
Be Mean?
Do I,
Choose to?
No!
I was honest when I said,
'You are no Martha Stewart! '
And you're NOT!
What's the big deal?
'Anyone blind cooking for the first time,
Could cook better than you! '
Why did you get upset after I said that?
Did you want me to lie?
That's not being mean at all!
IF 'you' were threatened with the possibility,
Of choking to death,
Murdered willingly!
What would you do?
I appreciate your talents, honey!
But none of them are associated with the kitchen.
That's not being mean!
That's self preservation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Carcas
A sacrifice after childbirth,
The period of separation;
A suspensive guilt like,
The carcas of an unclean animal.
To be fully cooked,
The meat is roasting over an open fire!
It must be very neat as well.
One person touches an unclean thing,
Another person touches a clean thing;
All in this world to make a choice.
The gleanings of a field,
To reap the harvest;
Olives and grapes,
You may eat its fruits;
But three times in a year you must keep the feast.
He is a stranger,
She is a stranger,
The first tithe is Holy;
Of leaven and honey,
Of peace and love,
Do not eat blood.
To the second tithe of grain,
To the second tithe of wine,
To the second tithe of oil,
Like a daughter of a priest;
Do not eat it raw or boiled,
It must be roasted!
He is poor to pay his debts,
She is poor to pay her debts,
Like a sacrifice after childbirth;
But he is a native of your own country.
Love, peace and care;
She is a native of your own country.
One thing is clean to you and,
Another is unclean to me;
But like life's own choices,
We have to offer a sacrifice after childbirth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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One Meat Ball
(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wedding Feast
Brother dear brother,I came as quickly as I could
The Digital Haze is broken,The Banished Ones r gone 4 good, gone 4 good"
Now there must b a wedding/Now there must b a feast
A feast, a feast/A smorgasbord at least
A brunch, a munch/Of cake if just a piece
Not just a vat of chitlins/Or turkey meat u c
We r what we eat/So we must eat a leaf
We'll dine under a tree/Unless it snows!
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Meat Of Darkness
Discover a land so shadowed with darkness,
It spreads like dark flowers around the land.
The reality is bitter, falling away like silver has dropped
Into a chasm to be rebuilt as gold.
Retrieve this gold, when the goats of meat
Are cooked above a burning fire,
And then the gold can be filling the meat
So that it is worth more to eat.
To eat the gold, you must defeat
Shadows of the land, and the goats
Of meat have clung to the land then,
And after this you have paid for the good.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Servent Cook
mother
Cook
with love...
father
Cook
With taste...
Brother
Cook...
With enjoy...
sister
Cook
Simply fine...
Servent
Cook
A boor...
A woor...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Taste Of Food
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
In this food, in that food we collapse
And honour a feast with some gaps.
The food we eat as dinner shall be kind
To the sleep we carry throughout the mind.
What food do you cook with expertise?
Fish and meat will certainly cease!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cooking and taste
eating the same tasteless dinner at the only diner
the umpteenth time, a thought came to my mind
am i a guinea pig or one of its kind
or was there a conspiracy behind
has my taste buds gone out of date
why is all so tasteless, that is the food i ate
i dared to ask the manager why the taste is so bad
bang came a caustic reply, this is by the best cook he ever had
(insinuating a problem not with his cook but with my taste)
well then it has to be my taste buds i thought
directing all my efforts to the food i had bought
then came storming, the savior, inside the hall
in his hand was the same food for which i have taken the fall
indignanlty he shouted at the manager
this food is so bad that even his dog had refused to had
hell i thought even the dog has a better taste
why, why am i such a waste
the dog in me forced me to start cooking that very day
the dog in me does sometimes refuses to eat what i cook
the human in me requests him to hav another look
for, when people are struggling for one square meal a day
how can i keep the food i cooked at bay,
hence i eat, taste or no taste, everything i cook, every day.
For Molly, Concerning God
Is God the one who eats the meat
off the bones of dead people?
-Molly Miranda Jong-Fast, age 3 1/2
God is the one,
Molly,
whether we call him
Him,
or Her,
treeform or spewing
volcano,
Vesuvius or vulva,
penis-rock,
or reindeer-on-cave-wall,
God is the one
who eats
our meat,
Molly,
& we yield
our meat
up willingly.
Meat is our
element,
meat is our
lesson.
When our bodies fill
with each other,
when our blood swells
in our organs
aching for another,
body of meat,
heart of meat,
soul of meat,
we are only doing
what God wants
us to—
meat joining meat
to become insubstantial air,
meat fusing
with meat
to make
a small wonder
like you.
The wonder of you
is that you push
our questions
along into
the future—
so that I know
again
the wonder of meat
through you,
the wonder of meat
turning to philosophy,
the wonder of meat
transubstantiated
into poetry,
the wonder of
sky-blue meat
in your roundest eyes,
the wonder of
dawn-colored meat
in your cheeks & palms,
the wonder of meat
becoming
air.
You
are my theorem,
my proof,
my meaty metaphysics,
my little questioner,
my small Socrates
of the nursery-schoolyard.
To think that
such wonder
can come from meat!
Well then,
if God is hungry—
let Him eat,
let Her eat.
poem by Erica Jong
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Domestic Shades 3
Kitchen mine cited varieties
Recipies, utensils, strange personalities
And Pathamadai Parvathi..
Matted her tresses to a lulling shine
Out with her freckles and pimples
Powdering talcum on a tantrum
Eye lining into the mirror
At a whir of every possible minute
In my absence..
Cooked my anger; ate my temper
Old Parvathi paatti next
Chithi patti for everybody
Of tonsured wedlock in yester pathos
A needy helper
To cook off my in- laws' diabetes
Cooked, ate, drank
Cooked, ate, drank
Often and nasty
Hardship towed me
Timely bruised by my paralysed m'-in-law too
Fortune eloped with chithi patti
Misfortune betrothed me
Hell of two months..
Parvthi paatti back
For a pay through her nose
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Escape From Hell’s Kitchen
I too have been bound in
breathed endured screams
your dark side hell’s kitchen
but you never glimpsed lived
ecstasy heights soaring peaks
of heaven I holy spirit ascend in
Satan is your chosen personal idol
your saviour your acclaimed god
the one you admire respect worship
news flash divine truth revelation
your welcome to him no contest
heaven earth’s first lying loser
destined to rage like a roaring lion
before being cast into a lake of fire
poor baby do you not reality want?
to cook a better meal a wedding feast
why serve eternal dark souls destiny
damned losers; hell’s kitchen bound!
while angelic aspiring due souls
celebrate a royal wedding feast
wicked and good willing to come
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Crawfish
(words & music by weis - weisman)
Crawfish
Well I went to the bayou just last night
There was no moon but the stars were bright
Put a big long hook on a big long pole
And I pulled mr. crawfish out of his hole
Crawfish
See I got him, see the size
Stripped and cleaned before your eyes
Sweet meat look, fresh and ready to cook
Crawfish
Now take mr. crawfish in your hand
Hes gonna look good in your frying pan
If you fry him crisp or you boil him right
Hell be sweeter than sugar when you take a bite
Crawfish
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An eternity to get to the right taste, smell
at last it is cooked
and in perfect state
taste and smell
to be served to the Lord
and ho my god, everybody is
enlightened, me, the angels
and of course the king
it takes almost an eternity to cook
he puts the perfect piece in his mouth
and wow his eyes almost pop out
ours too
after the 10th piece of the glory
he says he really longs for that first perfect
which melts his soul
'anymore? ' he asks
'that's the purpose of that piece, ' we say
'for perfect remembrance.
to be cherished at heart. it
took us 50 years to cook.'
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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