Metaphysics is a restaurant where they give you a thirty thousand page menu, and no food.
quote by Robert M. Pirsig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Creep Hymn
The creep
Goes to a restaurant
And order the food to eat at the restaurant
But when the food comes he eats a little bit of the food
Just so he can taste it
And he tells everybody very loud that the food that he order
Taste like shit
And then he takes the plate and throws it on the floor
But he lives the restaurant without pay
The waitress from the restaurant looks everywhere for him in the Restaurant
Sorry waitress he is gone out of the door
And he run away so that you couldn't catch him
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Vangie's Cuisine...
Food, food, food…Vangie’s food…
You can find them in FACE BOOK
Mouthwatering cuisine of Filipinos food
Let’s get together and have a look…..
Pretty Vangie is the cook
Using delicate hand to cook the food
Her expertise is out of this world
Nothing can beat her skills of food….
I look at it everyday
To see what’s the menu for today
Tummy now that was once empty
Is now full of what she cooked for that day! ! ! !
-xxx-
poem by Rachel Hill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I read that the British army had landed thirty-two thousand troops - and I had realized, not very long before, that Philadelphia only had thirty thousand people in it - it practically lifted me out of my chair.
quote by David McCullough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Thirty Frames A Second
Today I saw a film going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Was a man I recognised
Say who you are
I lost my job
Security
Self confidence
Bank account
Identity
The league of youth
Coming backward at me
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
Go back to father
Father wheres my food?
You food is on the table
That cant be food
Its dirt
Say who you are
Look at my skin
Look at my face
Look at my arms
Getting younger
Going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
I crash my car
Collapse in town
Young immigrants
And legionaires
Fighting back back backwards
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
Some friends of mine
I thought were dead
A coming back
What are you doing coming back
Jack
Say who you are
Feel Im going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pulling Life On The Mercy Of Others
The smoky restaurant on the roadside
Was waiting for its first customer
Ready with local South Indian menu
The owner was turning impatient
Pulling out and pushing in
His cash box
Hotel waiters standing close
To their areas of service
I was watching all of them
Positioning myself outside the premises
I was too keen to see their first customer
This hotel serves you the best
Among all the such outlets
In this part of the city
It may be business strategy, I do not know
The quality of the food initially served
Turns less acceptable to me as time passes
That is why, I come very early in the morning
So that I get the good stuff
I took off my eyes from the staff
And looked left and right on the road
For a prospective first eater
No one has to come yet
My hunger kept growing
And mouth started watering
As I lost in my plight
I saw a customer to my delight
Stepping up the restaurant and to my pleasure
He took a seat and he ordered too for a regular menu
I know I have to give time for him to eat
And then only my time to eat comes
I do not require keeping a look at him
I go by an audio signal which marks his finishing eating
I started watching the vehicles crossing fast in front of me
The people who go for a morning walk
The vegetable vendors and the milkmen
A paper boy almost rode his bicycle on me
I was smart in negotiating his rashness by jumping to safety
I heard the sound I was waiting for
The fall of the banana leaf with a thud into the dust bin
This leaf served as an eating plate for the first comer
My job now is to jump into the bin
And to eat the left over on the leaf
Some small slices of food items
And the left over spicy side dishes are enough
To take care of my hunger
At times it happens that I stay for more leaves to fall
One good thing is that this shop is newly opened
I do not face competition from other friends of my tribe
Though I bear the look of a Pomeranian
I am only a street dog pulling life on the mercy of others
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Curse Of The Greedy Gentlemen
Once there was a man that came into a Chinese store, the man asked for his food but when it arrived never thanked his waiter.2Never grateful of anything the gentlemen tasted the food that was served to him and spat it out in disgust. He then got his food and throw it upon the waiters face.4He explain that it was the worst food he had ever tasted in his life. The man, now filled with rage, cursed the gentleman to forever eat the food until he was as big as a house, and not to stop until he felt the pain from dieing from obesity.6So the man stormed out of the restaurant and when back to his home. When he had awakened the next day he had memory for the previous day but still went back to the same restaurant, and this time instead of eating the food and stopping the complain he kept eating, and eating, until he died of obesity in that very restaurant.8The man then arose and repeated his day of dieing from obesity, and again, and again. The man tried to apologize for his actions but it was to late, he was doomed forever to keep eating everyday, to feel the same pain every time, and to dieing each day, because of this ungratefulness.10For as the old saying goes: "Those who are grateful are those who show love, and those who show love are those who live long lives, and those who live long lives are never greedy."
poem by Augustus Gatlin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Restaurant fragments
That day we were in Burgundy’s
and somebody played the notes
of “Ballade pour Adeline”
on the piano
and it was peaceful in that restaurant
while a waiter brought the menu
and I ordered a bottle of white wine for you
and drank a glass of golden Hunters.
You were busy with your notebook
and were searching for a shopping list
as if suddenly it had disappeared
but everything was inter-textual
and our life played out in small happenings.
Much too quickly the time between us
was running out
so as if you already
had other greener pastures
and you were busy with the list
of things that we have to buy
and the quietness of the restaurant
came to lie in my heart.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Eating Disorder?
eating disorder, or is it?
it's eat or be eaten, you can't miss it,
that's the order of the disorder, border to border,
you're hooked to a food chain, hooked on a food train.
you come into this world, cut from a chord,
made from food, your overlord,
As decades roll by, food becomes you,
because you got to refuel to do what you do.
so you keep eating till you die,
(you just couldn't stay away from that last french fry,)
But don't you worry about who, what and why,
it's the cosmic menu, so don't cry.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Standing Bear Café
It was a fascinating little restaurant
Called Standing Bear Café
The décor was fun to look at
I would recommend it any day
Lots of choices on the menu
They even serve frog legs
Or perhaps you are hungry, sir
For hashbrowns, ham and eggs
And if you go in often, my friend
They’ll give you a special chair
Why, they’ll put your name right on it
It’ll be your spot while you’re there
Out in front is a huge bear statue
That will beckon you to stay
So stop in soon and visit
The Standing Bear Café!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Food is god
Food is god
for poor people...!
God is not
Only food...
Rich home
Dog is eat
Nice food...
That food is god...?
yes that also
A god...
Good food is
God...
What is good food...?
Given good health
Always good food...
So...
Non veg
Or veg...
Every good food
Is god...
Simply sit
Silentely eat food
With out hot
And cool drinks...
Food is not only
Poor's god...
With each and
Every one also
food is god...
Give respect and
Take food...
Happley too try too
Thank for god...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
City Under A Thousand Lies
Tragedy is the front page story
A city drowned under a thousand lies
And everyday we waste stalling
Is another day we loose a thousand lives
No one really seems to care
Everyone seems to want to leave them there
The city is going down in despair
And no one really seems to care
As long as it doesn’t happen to you
It’s just another front page story
Can’t really explain just how wrong that is to me
The agenda is stuck in the dirt across the sea
When the disaster is in our own backyard we aren’t ready
Quicker to act
On a battle attack
Across the world
Than thousands dying
Right here at home
Way too late to save anything
Obviously it’s too far gone
Tragedy is the front page story
Sell every fucking copy you can
The city is drowning under a thousand lies
And everyday we waste stalling
Claims another thousand lives
Caught on camera the deepest misery
Anarchy and despair everywhere
And yet even though it’s the front page story
No one really seems to care
poem by Jake Warren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meeting Beauty
When Meeting Beauty
I read the menu at the restaurant looked up and saw
a pair of brown leg stretching up to heaven and thought
this waitress is from Senegal, as all beautiful women are
born there, a poor country which God compensated by
given the people physical exquisiteness.
In my old man’s confusion I ordered goat chops which
was quite apt for my unbecoming thoughts.
When she served the food I looked demurely down
but did see her white teasing smile and saw her walk away
moving like a schooner on the high seas.
No, I’m not an improper dirty old man and didn’t make any
leering remarks, but it was a moment when I wished to
be young and be able to admire beauty openly and my
admiration would have been met with a smile....and perhaps
a chance of a warm embrace.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mmm Skyscraper I Love You
Thirty thousand feet above the earth.
Youre a beautiful thing. mmm skyscraper I love you.
Thirty thousand feet above the earth.
Its a beautiful thing. and youre a beautiful thing.
Thirty thousand feet above the earth.
Its a beautiful thing. everybodys a beautiful thing.
And I see elvis. elvis. I see
Porn dogs sniffing the wind. sniffing the wind for something new.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind for something violent they can do.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind. sniffing the wind for something new.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind for something violent for me and you.
Will you be my big plaything. my total big disorientator.
Will you be my big plaything. my ninja power. my number cruncher.
Yes. yes. yes. no. yes. yes.
And I see elvis. and I hear God on the phone. I see
Porn dogs sniffing the wind. sniffing the wind for something new.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind for something violent that they could do.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind. sniffing the wind for something new.
Porn dogs sniffing the wind for something violent for me and you.
The city is a whore tonight. and I see God talking
Elvis. God talking.
Pornfest pork fat jesus christ night light.
Elvis fresh meat and a little whipped cream.
Pornfast cornfat jesus christ night ride.
Elvis fresh meat and a little whipped cream.
Thirty thousand feet above the earth.
Thirty thousand feet above the earth.
Beautiful thing. youre a beautiful thing.
Thirty thousand feet above the beautiful earth.
Like I feel you.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Nomad Is Hungry Part 2
As the temperature start to cool down.
Wandering on the streets, as my belly start to hurt.
I'm hungry! Where am I going to get some food at!
Having lent ball's in my pocket.Did'nt hace any money.
Pasting by, all type of restaurant.As belly kept turning.
For a minute! I thought about going inside.
But, I knew they won't serve me any food.
As I got to the corner.I headed to the alley.
Having eager desire to jump into the trash-can.
As I search for some some food.Thany you, Lord!
I needed all this food.Man! 'I do surely stink....'
Coming Soon!
'The Nomad need to bathe.'
poem by Derrick Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!