The end of an ox is beef, and the end of a lie is grief.
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We Got The Beef
Had ourselves a little barbeque
Corn on the cob and mashed potatoes too
Joe got the fritos, ernie got the stew
So what did you bring
We got the beef
We got the beef
We got the beef
Yeah, we got it
(we got the beef)
Now, everybody get on your feet (we got the beef)
Grab a hunk of ? ? ? beef (we got the beef)
Chuck daddy (we got the beef)
Now, ground round by the pound
We got the beef (we got the beef)
We got the beef (we got the beef, we got the beef)
We got the beef (we got the beef, we got the)
We got the beef
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beef is beef, you know. Beef comes, so Beef is real.
quote by Obie Trice
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope in Heaven's Day
Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.
poem by Arlene Dery
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Zamponi
Zamponi, in, map, an, am, pin, main, man, pan, nap;
Commend,
Scandalized! !
Recommneded,
Chef, beef, brief, chief, grief;
Suffolk County,
Madison Square Garden,
Long Islands,
Ocean Parkway!
But, i will still remember you even in my old age.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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McDonald's has started demanding that its beef and chicken suppliers not use antibiotics when raising their animals. The move was shocking for McDonald's customers, as most were entirely unaware that the company used beef and chicken in its food.
quote by Matt Larson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Guide to Eating Meat
Eating a little beef
Could cause a Hindu grief,
Eating too much chicken
Can make a person sicken,
Eating lots of lamb
Is preferable to Spam,
Eating a leg of pork
Won't make the neighbours talk,
But eating Mum and Dad
Is DEFINITELY BAD! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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What old sadness can I let go of by sharing it today
How can we measure the grief we feel and and how we could put up with it. Doesn't the grief of death weight a ton or more. Doesn't it strenth out to a month a year or still longer. Is the grief of failture lighter then then the grief of empyness. Wheather we try to ingore or make light of it our grief like a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks is all the same to us. This much is sure if we lock our grief it will weight more on us. Andlengthen out if we open our hearts with weeping and words others will help carry it away. written and Posted 1/1/10
poem by Susie Sunshine
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Unknown Grief
Unknown Grief
Mark Kelly Wassenaar (AKA Wazzy)
You never expect to know the word grief
Until it comes to you
It comes in, like a thief
Then you take a critical review
Who really knows what grief is
It could be you, or me, or your teddy bear
If only we could see his
Come with me, I’ll give you a dare
All I ask is that you’ll see
What grief does to you and me
Maybe at the end we’ll all agree
That it need not be all for thee
Have you seen death of one or more
Have they been of love or worse
Does it cause a whole body war
Does it put you in a hearse
If all these apply to you
Maybe you know what grief may be
All this time you withdrew
It makes you feel like abductees
If you like, you may join my cause
Get together with your bands
To end all grief within our paws
To clear our enemy from our hands
poem by Mark Wazzy
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Pollo Asado
Come on, its a beautiful night for a walk on the beach, wouldnt you say?
Yes, I would say that, I would say that
Let me start of with a basket of chips
Then move on to the pollo asado taco
I would like two pollo asado tacos with one beef chimichanga
On the chimichanga, I would like a side of sour cream
I would like tomatoes and onions on my quesodilla
For dessert I would like the flares -- I would like extra cinnamon
Do you make guacamole?
Yes, I do make guacamole.
Uh, I would like a side of guacamole on my tostitos
I like to dip the tostitos in the guacamole
Can I get a basket, I told you about a basket of chips
I would like a large iced-tea, 2, uh, 2 large iced-teas
Ok, thatll be $16.07
Out of $20? ok, $16.07s your change.
Hi, can I help you?
I would like a basket of chips,
A beef chimichanga with a side of sour cream
I would like some guacamole on my chimichanga
With a quesodilla of tomato, onion, and vegetables
I should like a burrito with beans, beef, and
I would like a carne asado taco
Could you put some hot sauce on that for me?
No, inside the taco, not on the side
Yes, can I have a carne asado taco?
Not a pollo asado, we dont have chicken
Do you have guacamole?
Can you make me some guacamole?
I have guacamole
Ok, on my burrito I would like the muchaco beef and the shredded pork
And some more cheese, please
Ok, thatll be $22...
Uh, oh yes, I would like two lemonades and one medium iced-tea
Ok, thatll be $20.07
Out of $22? ok, $1.52s your change
Thanks a lot -- your food will be up -- here, let me get your drinks
Hi, can I help you? yes, I would like a basket of chips
I would like a beef chimi...
Umm, what is, what is the, what is the, what is the pollo asado?
Thats the chicken
Ok, what is the carne asado?
Thats the beef
Ok, let me get two carne asado tacos...
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grief Is Never Having To Say I Grieve
Your grief has been too heavy
I don’t know how much grief buries you down
Please let me weep with you
Please let me weep with you
Like the others, I adore you for keeping up with life
I could imagine how you cry in your thoughts
How like blade, grief cuts your heart, your throat,
the top of your skull - slowly
Like wars in history, there are no exits
and there are no choices
If you were there, you had to face those rattling guns
Plead, please plead
Remember “Our Lady of Sorrows'
Mary carried part of the grief Jesus has
been carrying to save us, during the crucifixion
Mary had no one with her
She was helpless, yet in those moments
God’s strength kept her unmovable and brave
How long does grief stay?
People are not things
How long does grief stay?
If you lost something, you can always build it again
How long does grief stay?
If you lost someone, and someone, and someone
again, in any way – they are part of you
For as long as you live, grief changes into
remembering happy days with each other
Grief becomes faithfulness
Grief changes unto faith
Those drops of blood, while Jesus prayed in the garden
Is grief
Grief is never having to say “I grieve, ”
but “I love, ”
This is how long grief stays.
poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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A grief ago
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..
But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?
For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;
For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?
gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart
there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...
not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief
and behold,
life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Threats To Keep A People In Grief
How can we seek solutions...
When our denials love to bask,
In a pleasing done by deceit.
How can we non-fictionalize our lives,
When fiction is all we seek.
How can we ever expect to accept the truth,
When none of it is believed.
And how is a greatness once perceived,
So willing to feed decadence...
And allow conflict and division succeed.
All of these may be questions!
But the opportunity to answer them,
Become threats to keep a people in grief.
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'll Eat The Fish
I use to like it well done not rare.
Prepared tenderly as if one cared.
I had to have my steak well cooked and baked.
I use to slice it into pieces split,
With fried potatoes...
And some wine to slowly sip.
But when I changed my diet I got into fish.
And I discovered baked fish was quite delicious.
That was it.
And today there is no beef for me,
I'll eat the fish!
I use to slice my beef into tiny pieces split.
But when I changed my diet I got into the fish.
That was it.
That was it.
And today there is no beef for me I will eat the fish!
That is it for me...
Today I'm on the fish!
I use to like it well done not rare.
Prepared tenderly as if one cared.
I had to have my steak well cooked and baked.
I use to slice it into pieces split,
With fried potatoes...
And some wine to slowly sip.
But today there is no beef for me I will eat the fish!
That is it for me...
Today I'm on the fish!
Today there is no beef for me I will eat the fish!
That is it for me...
Today I'm on the fish!
Even fish sticks,
Will be eaten very quick.
I will handled eating up those fish sticks very quick.
Especially if they're deep fried and battered!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To A Cow In Mourning
It aches my heart to hear you mourn poor cow
And i would help you if i could somehow
But only God can resurrect your son
Who has fallen victim of the butcher's gun.
You've mourned since afternoon of saturday
When men from you took fatted calf away
And since saturday all but five days ago
You've lived beneath a cloud of grief and woe.
Your mournful bellows tell of painful ache
In heart that must be very near to break
And the forlorn face and the sad eyed look that tell
Of creature who has lived four days of hell.
Today a wealthy Townman sit and eat
And masticate your offspring's tender meat
And say to wife 'darling the meat taste nice'
It's prime beef like this make meat seem worth it's price.
And your farmer owner he doesn't even care
Of the grief that pains you he seem unaware
He doesn't feel moved by bovine moans or tears
And your mournful bellows fall on heedles ears.
But the only cure for grief and dismal pine
Is the proven and the age old healer time
And time poor cow will help make you forget
That son you loved whom butcher shot to death.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Words for Sergeant Dakota Meyer, USMC – CMH
Someday when your construction job has helped you heal
I hope through google and the further mystery of the internet
These words will find you
The President did not speak falsely
In your dark valley you are far from alone
Your comrades - living and dead – are not alone
Indeed a nation grieves with you
Your truth is proofed
Your honor is secure
You are not alone
You are not alone
The medal is our grief
It is not your grief
Keep your grief – keep your grief
It will heal you
It will heal you
Keep your grief
The Medal is a souvenir from a place
Where there are no shops
poem by Bill Grace
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A Soldier's Dream
Last night as I toasted
My wet feet and roasted
A small bit of beef by a similar blaze,
While nought but the wheezings,
The snorings, and sneezings
Of comrades grouping in Dreamland's haze
Disturbed the fine vision -
The picture Elysian -
That Fancy's weird wand conjured up to my thought,
As she stood like a spooke,
In a garb of blue smoke,
And amid the hot embers her wonders she wrought.
Adown a highway
We were marching so gay
An army with banners bedecked o'er and o'er
With the brightest garlands
Wove by fairest of hands,
While a flaming bouquet stuck in each musket bore.
Each triumphal arch
It met on the march
Was blazoned with 'Peace'; 'Welcome home each loved one';
While maid, wife, and mother
Would with rapture discover
And rush out to meet lover, husband, and son!
I forgot all my sore toes -
Nay, all of my woes -
As I sprang to the threshold and clasped her dear waist;
And every campaign
I'd gone over again
To get from those ripe lips another such taste.
But as I flew to her
I dropped my fine skewer,
And with it my supper. I mastered my grief
As the vanishing vision
of joy's Elysian,
But I couldn't get over the loss of the beef!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Thecom
you choose your fate is grief is what I feel when someone passes away grief is what I feel when i' am concerned grief what I when i have done wrong grief is what I feel when some accident happens
poem by Brandon Edwards
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Stand Alone Complex
I stand alone,
I fall apart.
In my deepest sorrow i grief.
I grief for a touch, for a smile...
I grief for love;
I grief for live...
I grief and i beg,
For the heat of an angel to save me...
For the simplest touch of a lover...
For the complex soul of a writer...
And i fall apart
I stand alone...
I stand alone complex.
28th January 1010
poem by DarkShaya Naiyamoto
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Grief is the soul of life- SONNET
Grief in the world is soul of life,
When it comes, comes like a kite.
Flying over on ones, hanging like a knife,
Everyone have to suffer from it to fight.
Life is a journey for facing griefs,
One's only thinks over happiness, but it is his dreams.
Grief is tsunami of life, robs joy from us like thief,
Grief is after all life's cream.
The whole universe is built,
Through love they say.
No one care about silt,
About grief, sorrow and dismay.
Grief is the indivisible part of our life,
It can not be seperated by axe, needle or knife.
poem by Shubham Tomar
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I Do Not Run Away From Gried.....
i do not run away from grief
grief itself is the cure of grief,
did you not know that from the thorns grows
this rose?
from boulders, that nugget of gold?
that from dead trees
the rare orchid blooms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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