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German Virile E-Coli Outbreak Source Was Beans?
no German research experts Doctors Bean Bean Bean and Bean
got it wrong again randomly pointing finger at specific farmers
wrecking all their perishable export commodities sales yet again
excellent export grade A cucumbers lettuces tomatoes and beans
Spanish or from other European countries were not to blame?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When I was doing Bean more than I've done him in the last few years, I did strange things - like appearing on chat shows in character as Mr. Bean.
quote by Rowan Atkinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The worm that gnaws on the bean is the one inside the bean.
Scent of cacao beans
Oh! This heart inside my chest
That bit faster when I get
Your presences, I imagine
You and I on my bed
I know the Swedish people
Like the coffee beans so much
But I’ve got a better bean
With Ecuadorian style
You tasted the flavor, smelled the scent
This Creole white chocolate
The sweethes cacao bean you’ve ever tasted
So come and kiss me on my lips
Taste this flavor of cacao beans
I’ve got this scent on my skin
Please make me your daily drink
Come and give me a drink of chocolate
To excited my hot skin
My body is scented by this cacao bean
And you are with the flavor of my skin
You’re my drink that taste like chocolate
That excited my hot skin
My body is scented by this cacao bean
And you are with the flavor of my skin
‘Cause my whole body is shaking
When I think about you
‘Cause I need my hot beverage
To calm this muse
I really need those kisses that you brought
I can’t forget them, that’s my thought
So come and kiss me on my lips
Taste these Creole cacao beans
My body is scented by this bean
And you are with the flavor of my skin
Come and give me drink of chocolate
To excited my hot skin
My body is scented by this cacao bean
And you are with the flavor of my skin
poem by Michael Vinicio Camacho Menéndez
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A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You Really Like A Free Meal?
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity,
even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Losing One's Dignity
you like free meals
they taste so well
nothing is bitter
everything is sweet
why do you like a free meal?
you save much for yourself.
why do you save much and not
spend anything for yourself?
you are into the vice of misery.
You are the miser storing much
and still beg for more
hence the free meal.
there is no such thing as a free meal
if you only know the real score
you could not have eaten that free meal on the table.
everyday you eat this unnecessary gratitude
tomorrow you shall pay it
with what? your dignity, even your whole life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fortunes
Every morning a woman comes and hand picks her rubbish -
Gems discarded by the elite of the city.
She takes them to an interesting shop;
There she exchanges them for a meal ticket (money)
She chooses her meal as if fine combing a menu in elegant Paris,
In the finest eatery, along the finest strip.
Her meal is that of which they (the elite)
would never consider to chew.
Her enjoyment in consuming such a meal is one which
They can never realise.
poem by Anthony Dawson
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Gust Becos I Cud Not Spel
Gust becos I cud not spel
It did not mean I was daft
When the boys in school red my riting
Some of them laffed
But now I am the dictater
They have to rite like me
Utherwise they cannot pas
Ther GCSE
Some of the girls were ok
But those who laffed a lot
Have al bean rownded up
And hav recintly bean shot
The teecher who corrected my speling
As not been shot at al
But four the last fifteen howers
As bean standing up against a wal
He has to stand ther until he can spel
Figgymisgrugifooniyn the rite way
I think he will stand ther for ever
I just inventid it today
poem by Brian Patten
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The bean paste that smells like bean paste is not the best quality.
The Bean-Stalk
Ho, Giant! This is I!
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
La,—but it's lovely, up so high!
This is how I came,—I put
Here my knee, there my foot,
Up and up, from shoot to shoot—
And the blessed bean-stalk thinning
Like the mischief all the time,
Till it took me rocking, spinning,
In a dizzy, sunny circle,
Making angles with the root,
Far and out above the cackle
Of the city I was born in,
Till the little dirty city
In the light so sheer and sunny
Shone as dazzling bright and pretty
As the money that you find
In a dream of finding money—
What a wind! What a morning!—
Till the tiny, shiny city,
When I shot a glance below,
Shaken with a giddy laughter,
Sick and blissfully afraid,
Was a dew-drop on a blade,
And a pair of moments after
Was the whirling guess I made,—
And the wind was like a whip
Cracking past my icy ears,
And my hair stood out behind,
And my eyes were full of tears,
Wide-open and cold,
More tears than they could hold,
The wind was blowing so,
And my teeth were in a row,
Dry and grinning,
And I felt my foot slip,
And I scratched the wind and whined,
And I clutched the stalk and jabbered,
With my eyes shut blind,—
What a wind! What a wind!
Your broad sky, Giant,
Is the shelf of a cupboard;
I make bean-stalks, I'm
A builder, like yourself,
But bean-stalks is my trade,
I couldn't make a shelf,
Don't know how they're made,
Now, a bean-stalk is more pliant—
La, what a climb!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Love Is
Yeahh
Ooohh
Yeah yeah
Once there was a time love was just a myth
It just wasn't for real, didn't exist
Til the day you came into my life
You forced me to think twice
I didn't have too much, no I wasn't rich
Gave me belief someday I'd be more than this
That's why until this day I'm still your man
Cause you made me understand that
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair
The two of us but no one there
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane
At the end of the day is that I've got you
You're my secret place where I can be myself
You connect with me like nobody else
Even though our circumstances changed
Our love still remains
Meet me on the ground, still you help me fly
You taught me to be patient, I taught you to rely
So no matter what tomorrow brings
We got the simple things cause (noooo)
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (bean bag chair)
The two of us but no one there (no one there)
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs (ohh)
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (ohh)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane (ohh)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is
A Sunday morning with the blanket wrapped around your waist
Love is
The way your lips seem to curve
When you say my name (say my name ohh)
Love is
And when I'm stressing like the world's turning upside down
Girl it all makes sense when you're around
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (yeah)
The two of us but no one there (making love is)
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is
The only thing that keeps me sane (I'm gonna keep you baby)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is kisses in a bean bag chair (bag chair)
The two of us but no one there
Love is the moment that I climb the stairs
To hold you in my arms after we make love
Love is waking up to see your face (I've got you baby)
Or kissing in the morning rain
Love is (baby)
The only thing that keeps me sane
At the end of the day is that I've got you
Love is
Waking up to see your face (say I've got you)
Kissing in the morning rain (ooh)
At the end of the day is that I've got you
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm very pleased with being a part of the Bean Pole family. It's a relationship that makes sense to me. I'm very pleased to have my name associated with Bean Pole Jeans.
quote by Wentworth Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Navy Bean
A navy bean is bigger than it seems put it on and don't ask what it means
Parade around
Cellophane is thicker than it seems put it on and don't ask what it means
Parade around
Shaving cream is thicker than it seems shave 'em off and don't ask what it means
Parade around
An angel wing is caught up in the tree if you know what's best get the hell away from me!
Parade around
Oh you little navy bean oh you're caught up in the tree
Navy bean
song performed by by Tracy Bonham from The Burdens Of Being Upright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Colleen
colleen.
she is a bean.
she is not mean.
she loves soccer.
it is gayyyy.
colleen is a bean
poem by Annoynmos Annoynmos
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Childhood’s end
My friends all came and said goodbye
To College off we go.
Hugs and kisses all around
From everyone I know.
Tonight I saw my family-
(Enjoyed my last good meal) .
Tomorrow -cafeteria
With meal plans I must deal.
I spend my last night in my room
(Allow myself a tear)
How will my pandas get along
And thrive without me near.
My books, my things, my DVD’s
so much to leave behind.
But pack mule Daddy must insist
I travel light this time
Childhoods end, not Journey’s end
One more look back for me
Then off to make my future
at the University.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Appetite
It is appetizing, the meal is appetizing,
I consumed a mighty warrior of steel.
My concession was plain, just give me food
So I give you a meal, food for two now.
The concert repeats, I laugh and cry forever,
But still I smile and giggle with dizziness.
The groups of people look like apes with food,
The two of us are fed, what of the rest of us?
My appetite is satisfied, but your meal surrounds
And loves me, like two of us in the middle of feeding.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Fresh, Tinned or Frozen
Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis,
nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen,
the greens of snap beans vary.
Neighbors in the yard,
clerks at the store,
folks at church,
you and me and bawling Ma,
for years we fed his strange chameleons
so we can swear, on the Bible,
Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis.
Nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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In My Eyes Remix
Look into my eyes
Try to see what I see
View the world through my eyes
See the hurt of war stricken families
The pain of poverty filled streets
See the racism and discrimination all around us
See the competition
Survival of the Fittest
Will you make it out alive?
See the eagerness of children in the ghetto
Hear their cry to get out
Their plea for a better life
Watch mothers desperately trying to provide
Hustlin’ and selling their bodies for a decent meal
Look into my eyes
See those better off
Watch them make a living
The American dream, that’s what their living
See them climb the corporate ladder
Strive to reach the top
They have the money
So why won’t they share it?
Why won’t they share a meal?
Why are so many on the streets homeless?
In America, the land of dreams
With streets paved in gold
Where is the promise of a better life?
poem by Candice George
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