Enough food and a pipe full of tobacco makes you equal to the immortals.
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Tobacco
The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;
And even such, gone with a touch,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
And when the smoke ascends on high,
Thinke thou beholdest the vanity
Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soule defil'd with sin,
And then the fire it doth require.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust return thou must.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.
poem by George Wither
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I checked out all types of tobacco trying to find one that would be easiest to live with, I ended up using pipe tobacco. It burned slower, and it wasn't as harsh on my throat... It also smelled better.
quote by David Strathairn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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No matter what Aristotle and the Philosophers say, nothing is equal to tobacco; it's the passion of the well-bred, and he who lives without tobacco lives a life not worth living.
He is Absolved
Killing for food is not a sin, we hold.
God’s killing is not for food, hence a sin.
Who can forgive Him? Is He absolved of it?
Yes, as He makes births equal to deaths.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I don't know how it started but someone must have noticed I was always chewing tobacco or smoking a pipe.
quote by Hank Sauer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ned’s Delicate Way
Ned knew I was short of tobacco one day,
And that I was too proud to ask for it;
He hated such pride, but his delicate way
Forbade him to take me to task for it.
I loathed to be cadging tobacco from Ned,
But, when I was just on the brink of it;
‘I’ve got a new brand of tobacco”, he said –
“Try a smoke, and let’s know what you think of it.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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If 1 And 2 Were Equal
If 1 and 2 were equal
we'd have as many hearts as fists
If 1 and 2 were equal
we'd have confused shopping lists
If 1 and 2 were equal
there'd be less phone numbers to dial
If 1 and 2 were equal
noon would surely last a while
If 1 and 2 were equal
there'd be a nose under each eye
If 1 and 2 were equal
you couldn't say no to 'you and I? '
If 1 and 2 were equal
I think I'd be much more happy
'cause if 1 and 2 were equal
I would not be so lonely
poem by John W. McEwers
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Bob Justice
Bob Justice was an old pipe smoking fellow
And outside his shop on Main Street Millstreet Town
He and his sister May often sat talking
Whilst he greeted people passing up and down.
He became well known through his business and bakery
And as a man who owned and raced greyhounds
And it's been said that Bob enjoyed a gamble
And he often bet up to one hundred pounds.
He must have smoked a lot of pipe tobacco
As much as anyone for miles about
And perhaps more than anybody else in Millstreet
For his pipe was seldom distant from his mouth.
His wife from Cockhill and they had two daughters
And one of them Geraldine owns the shop today
And though it's been years since Bob Justice was living
On looking back it only seems yesterday.
If there's a Heaven there you'll find Bob Justice
Smoking his pipe distant from Millstreet Town
And in the cool shade sitting in the sunshine
And greeting people passing up and down.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Love Food
I love food, I love food
It makes me feel really good
Yummy and nutritious food
Keeps me in a superb mood
Food is a gift from above
A sign of His assuring love
Let us not waste this treasure
Let‘s be thankful for this pleasure
I want the whole world to know
How it makes me go, grow and glow
Just eat healthy and nutritious food
And it would do you good
I love food, I love food.
(November 5,2009, Philippines)
poem by Carl Antoni Mallillin
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Agony
And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney
And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry
And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
Sauted well with flavoured tobacco
Then to garnish with cut cigar pieces
To make tobacco biryani
Tobacco chutney, tobacco curry
Tobacco biryani..what next..
Forgotten Kitchen hurrying
To make more koftas
Be put in sugar syrup
To make tobacco jamuns
Then you see, exhausted Kitchen
Under the wildly running fan rests
Wildly coughing out
Her heart despite its rapidness
Awaiting patiently her lover
Who's been chained to her delicious cooking
poem by Indira Renganathan
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It is time for Congress to provide relief for tobacco farmers. Since the 1930's tobacco production has been regulated by a quota system, which required farmers to purchase quota in order to grow tobacco.
quote by Allen Boyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing the war of tobacco..
Losing the war of tobacco..
I'm losing the war that has consumed my life.
Tobacco is my war that I fight along side
Tobacco is in the life I live in
Tobacco is the war I'm losing
Tobacco has consumed my life
poem by Joe Johnson
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Stomach with food
Dont full
Fill your stomach...at
Food...
Stomach is
Full fill
The food...
Only at only
With waste of
Basket...
Making
At your stomach...
Drink...
Eat...
A llways
With your stomach
Limet... limet...
Healf stomach
Is good...
Bada full food
Eating...
Mothley once
ok...
Every day
Not better for
Your body health...
Diside to eat food...
Daily...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Equal
equal,
..equal,
...equal,
....equal,
.....equal,
......equal,
.......equal!
dont it sound good?
wouldnt it feel good?
think about it,
and then do something about it!
equal!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Your golf playing postmaster father was your god
Your golf playing postmaster father
was your god
(and to you there was no other)
who couldn’t see anything wrong
with the actions of his friends
that wanted to play
sexual games with you
and his wife
who slept around
with whom ever she could.
You sat next to him
at the front door
of the old house in Barberton
with the red polished stairs
while he smoked his pipe
with BB-tobacco
and although you hated smoking
inhaled every vapour
coming from him
as if it would put you
in a godly ordained séance
or maybe a trance.
Each thing that he said,
each thing that he did
to you was holy and right,
even if it lacked justice
and you made a mere man
equal to the Almighty One.
No other man could for you
fit in his shoes
and I tried to live
in a totally different way
and when he died
from a heart attack
on the golf course,
you only saw dread,
for your God was dead
and tried to join him
by taking sleeping pills
and was really angry
for me rushing you to hospital
as if I had got in the way
of your atonement.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Equal Rights,2011
equal rights to live,
equal rights to love.
equal rights to believe,
to speak out, to stand up
and be counted.
equal rights to work,
equal rights to study.
equal rights to build.
equal rights to profess faith,
equal rights to pray.
equal rights to give...
equal rights to live,
equal rights to love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It's really a grand Wedding!
I couldn't believe the unexpected invitation
And I was sitting at the gallery,
Because my old Gaberdine suit is not suitable for such a Wedding.
Mr.Winston Churchill sat beside me and smiled like an old friend!
We talked about the recent wars and global warming.
He gave me his old pipe and the tobacco pouch
Before he leaves.
I thought when I come back home tell my beloved wife to get a photograph
From the digital camera our daughter sent us.
Darling that photo with his pipe I want to send to Oprah's magazine
And definitely our precious relatives critize the scribbler
Now smoke with expensive pipes!
*After watching the Royal Wedding I had a Daydream on the broken couch!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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