Never Be Permitted to Sit or Take a Sniff
Some are selected to see and digest.
While others believe,
They are here to correct what's on the menu.
To decide what they will be served next.
And if the taste is not to their liking,
They rally to hire a new cook.
With a loud protest.
Instead of accepting,
They are powerless to elect...
What has been chosen to be most effective.
And not debated,
To be inspected as wished...
By those who will never be permitted,
To sit or take a sniff in the kitchen!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
No One Is Left to Please You Like That
It's too late to have explanations,
Bared and on the table.
That was done when you said you had no appetite.
But I watched you reach for dessert.
And you had no problem...
Feeding yourself with sweets.
And now you wish for a dish of reality?
Small enough...
So you can pucker up and peck,
For the taste of it to please!
This is not off a menu to be requested.
Or is there anyone here,
Waiting for you to digest it!
This is it as it is...
Whether or not you accept it that way.
And scratched is the soft music,
With a candelabra displayed.
And the candles were plastic.
Not waxed as you requested for your charade...
You wished to parade with serenade.
No one is left to please you like that.
Not here!
Only truth is served.
Deserving of it or not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stewed for Taste
Naturally...
If one is fed nonsense,
That is all one knows to accept.
Anything else that may be better to digest...
Will get a rejection,
If it is not marketed to infest...
As the best for one of limited consciousness.
And limitations imposed,
Will be sold as those to be correct!
With an affectiveness,
To produce what one expects!
Naturally.
And with less effort.
Especially,
If some are treated as meat.
And seasoned to be eaten,
As a selected treat!
Leaving the unsuspected,
To be gobbled up like sheep.
Once left...
To sit,
Brewing and stewed for taste!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Scoops Of Soup
Once it has been discovered,
Who's pot you've been dipping to get...
Those scoops of soup,
Served to your guests.
It is going to be very hard to convince anyone,
That cook you had fired from the kitchen...
Is not as qualified as you profess.
And you may not be aware of this...
But a great cook,
Seldom leaves recipes behind.
Not those originating from an inventive mind.
And a great cook...
Has no problems finding,
Those who are seeking something better...
They know will stay with them that is craved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make No Attempt to Compliment
When the initiative is taken,
To inflict upon another heartbreak.
Expect to feel the remnants of it.
Or see bits and pieces served upon a plate.
Eat it.
With a hopeful wish...
There has been an invitation,
To taste dessert.
And what has been served,
Has been deserving.
And a forgiveness forthcoming,
Will be mutually delicious.
If expectations are there and desired,
To again share the same menu!
If not...
Make no attempt to compliment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Digestive Darkness And Light
life is a mixture of light, darkness and truth
but are you digested on them?
digest what you see
digest what you feel
digest what you smell
digest what you touch
digest what you eat
digest what you think
digest what you speak
and you will be a truth by yoursekf
but but but but but but but but but
NEVER DIGEST YOUR DREAM
Free To Be Filthy
No regard or sign of respect.
Raised on material values...
And ideals they neglect.
Just for a dollar,
They have turned the world into a mess.
Free to be filthy.
And a scum achieved...
Has been their best effort yet!
Mongers of hate...
With absence of thought!
Taught by a society,
Seeped in delusions brought!
And yet they believe their lifestyles appeal!
As they trash humanity,
With an allowed zest and zeal!
Creeps and leechers...
Seeking attention they get!
Representing sleaze,
As a determined conquest!
And those who wished...
At a time,
To correct all of this...
Watch as bystanders,
Stepping over to avoid
All the crap that exists.
Others seem consciously accepting,
And so quick to digest...
Disgusting appearances,
With a filth nourished without protest!
And this diseased way of life...
Spreads like an uncurable cancer.
No opponent in battle is winning this fight!
Mindsets have been condoned,
To avoid any insight!
Fed on destruction.
To eliminate the good,
From lives no one wants to live as it should.
And 'threatened' by all,
That living right might ignite...
In goodwill, peace and brotherhood,
Feeding on this appetite.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only That Which Is Nibbled With A Sniffing Wished
The relativity of one's acquired taste,
Is influenced by one's environment.
Subjected to an initiation.
And reflects a familiarity which comforts.
And...
Naturally,
That which is perceived not to comfort...
Will not be nibbled with a sniffing wished.
Only that which is nibbled with a sniffing wished,
Gets to become selected as one's acquired taste...
Relative to one's environment,
That initiates to establish what influences.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'The Elect
Elect and precious this Chief Corner Stone
Chosen by God to sit upon the throne
We that believe will not be put to shame
But shall proudly be called by His great name
And Who is this Elect and Chosen One?
It is Christ Jesus Gods' Only Son
For in Zion's city He shall be king
Of His greatness and praise all men shall sing
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
This 'Event' Is Not Customized
If you do not like or enjoy,
What is being offered...
Stop returning to the buffet.
What has been dished,
Is it!
Your complaints,
Are not going to change...
The arrangement of the selections.
If you do not like or enjoy,
What is being offered...
Stop returning to the buffet.
Others have done it,
And have successfully moved on their way.
No one but you,
Has suggested to the cook...
What added ingredient to use,
To sweeten or suit a particular taste.
If what you perceive is not happening for you...
Do not wait to be force fed.
This 'event' is not customized,
For apologies served to render.
Not here!
Today...
Or on tomorrow's menu!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Rating To Leave
Why come to sit down at a table,
On a daily and regular basis...
With nothing brought to offer or share,
To equal or compare...
To that which has been prepared.
With a glaring at the setting to closely inspect,
As if to ensure a quality with standards...
Has been appropriately met.
Then with a nibble to finish and eat to complete,
All that has been served to digest.
Only to complain about those conversations,
Not suitable to meet your standards or taste...
You seem to regret.
And with a rating to leave,
You believe could and should be more impressive.
And yet,
When tomorrow comes...
You will be the first to arrive,
Again!
To judge, evaluate and not speak.
As if to imply the menu does not satisfy.
With a rating to leave to denote your presence.
Or a lack of it there to participate and engage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My mother said it was simple to keep a man, you must be a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. I said I'd hire the other two and take care of the bedroom bit.
quote by Jerry Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Will Be There
No need for one to digest,
What is yet ready for one to order
From a selective menu.
When the appetite begins to crave...
The serving will be just as fresh,
The moment one gets it to devour.
Why sour one's taste,
For something that will sit on a plate...
Untouched without an interest,
To sample what is offered.
It will be there!
Whenever one comes,
And is prepared to indulge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What 'Is' the Purpose
What 'is' the purpose of information,
If it is not correct?
Or the wholesomeness of revelation,
If it doesn't give one introspect?
What is it about the knowing of truth,
That makes so many get upset?
And why do people protest in movements,
What for them is best?
To only wilfully digest lives polluted,
With the acceptance of devastation...
And conflicts started that prolong unrest!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Cheap And Cheesy
I am not a garbage creator.
But I do understand,
Those who have a taste for it
May rate it as great.
To satisfy that taste.
And I am far too original
To substitute what I do,
Just to get a cheap nibble or two.
I offer more to the menu,
From which to choose.
But just to throw together garbage
Is not what I choose to do.
That's too cheap and cheesy.
I am a chef.
Not just another cook on the pursuit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Postmodern Light
If you don't support ‘progress’
You're not politically correct
Though often it is pure foulness
A perfect product of the imperfect.
If you believe in freedom
Yes, you're politically correct
But one's liberty is another's serfdom
Power in the hand of the elect.
If you're not a feminist
You're not politically correct
So do not swing your fist
Even when you are erect.
Your values and tradition
Are politically correct, perhaps,
If your divorces keep going on
Imbued with other family mishaps.
If you're not a ‘postmodern’
You're not politically correct
So just raise high your lantern
And irradiate for stage effect.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surrounded By Calm and Clear Seas
Hypocrisy has got to be the center,
Of their beliefs.
Racial profiling is done.
Anyone who has been victimized,
Know it is common.
Racism exists.
What 'is' and 'is not' legal...
Is based upon preference.
Values and mentioned 'standards'
Are permitted by those,
With mindsets limited.
Confused are the people,
Who say 'aliens and immigrants'...
Invade upon their selected diversity!
Even though their activities...
Isolates them further,
In a feeding that deceives.
Despise they do with a bigotry.
Accusing 'that one' them and they...
As those who have depleted their sense of quality.
And yet...
Some folks perceive this planet Earth,
Belonging to them exclusively.
With a taking away from others,
To do exactly what they please.
Whether that is done upon these shores...
Or on remote inhabited islands,
In the middle of oceans.
Or accepting the hospitality...
Of unsuspecting natives,
Performing spiritual rituals.
And living peacefully...
Surrounded by calm and clear seas.
'We are behind with unconscious minds.'
~Well...
At least part of your comment is correct!
We 'are' behinds.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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.
An Investment To Correct
Too connected and focused,
With an investment to correct...
Incorrectness.
It has become more important now,
That each step taken is inspected...
Than to make a leap once wished,
Leading to face again another conflict.
And repeating the same situations,
Needing to be fixed and losing time given...
Skipping over what is regarded as unimportant,
To identify that unimportance as the solution...
Assisting an understanding comprehended quicker.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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