Death of a kitchen
Empty room across the restaurant hall
Not even a fly buzz.
The waiter is lying upon a table.
Of square blood patterns' cloth
The chef, has hung himself.
The porter run away with the mouse wife.
While the pan dance in the rust water.
Cupboard of Cockroaches.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Square Wave In Unison
Made a noise invented a sound
When brian wilson used it a hit was found
If only I could have imagined
The square waves running through his head
Square wave - people couldnt believe it
Square wave - all the way to carnegie hall
Square wave
One rod for pitch
Electro magnetic fields
Wired up sing sing
Hung out with einstein
For all all of his brilliant innovation
Sent off to a siberian reservation
Square wave - people couldnt believe it
Square wave - all the way to carnegie hall
Square wave
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiter! Bring Me Water!
He took me to--our favorite spot
A place we go to hang a lot
Something seemed to catch his eye
Oh--oo--oh over my shoulder
Oh--oo--oh over my shoulder
I turned around--to see whats up
A pretty young thing sure enough
She was new--he wanted to
Kno--oo--oh--oh--oo--ow her
Kno--oo--oh--oh--oo--ow her
Oh--yeah--
Then she flicked her hair (yeah!)
Oh--yeah--he began to stare
[chorus:]
Waiter! (waiter) bring me water!
I gotta make him keep his cool
(waiter) bring me water!
Hes acting like a fool
(waiter) bring me water!
Uh, oh, I did my best--to block his view
But it was like he could see through me
I just knew--he wanted to
Ho--oo--oh--oh--oo--oh--old her
Ho--oo--oh--oh--oo--oh--old her
Oh--yeah--i aint gettin nowhere (yeah!)
Oh--yeah--shes still standing there
[repeat chorus]
Theres gotta be a way to cool this clown--
Hes starting to embarrass me
I may even have to hose him down--
Bring me water
I dont know what he finds so distracting--
Whats so hot about her
I really dont like the way hes acting
Bring me water!
Uh, bring it on!
Uhhhh
Oh
Whats so hot about her
Uh, uh, uh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(waiter, bring me water)
Gotta make him keep his cool
(waiter, bring me water)
Send him back to school
(waiter, bring me water)
Hes acting like a fool
(waiter, bring me water)
Waiter, bring me water
song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through With Buzz
He takes all my money
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh
Hes not very funny
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz,
All right, oh yeah, uh huh
I remember when he stole my girl
Drug her all around the world
You know Im cool, yes I feel alright
cept when Im in my room and its late at night
Maybe hes a fairy
You know Im through with buzz
Yes Im through with buzz
All right, oh yeah, uh huh, all right
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dish (cuisine) that talks
I am a dish that talks
and usually i want the chef
to do his stuff my way
wishing this, wishing that
hoping to be the next best dish
to top the restaurant list
as the chef sprinkles
his spices and salt onto me
i diffident would complain of
the excesses, the overindulgent
use of veggies and mutton
or mollusks, mustard
vinegar and pepper
and even the overheating,
charbroiled, stir fried
steam cooked or stewed
i want it my way giving
little regard to the chef's expertise
for fear of becoming an
offensive blandness on
the tongues of the masters
over enthusiastic over
what would turn out of me
only when my fragrance
spreads over the table
to trigger that salivating
nerves in mouths that
the buddha himself would
jump over the wall to
have me in his belly that
i realise the chef is correct
he is cooking me and he knows
how best i should be served
that exquisiteness that could only
result from an original recipe
the chef himself knows best
how he should turn out his creation
i take the opportunity to ask him
what he finds most in the way
as he tries to realise his dream of me
and he says 'Your load of bland ego
with the toughness of a three year old chicken.'
'It takes such a long time to just
boil them down to edible portions.'
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Set On Auto-Pilot
Not only have they been,
Floating along powered by denial.
Their minds have been set on auto-pilot,
For as long as the supplies held out.
Now no one can convince them,
They must swim to shore...
Aided by their own initiative.
For them what had existed,
Is no more!
Many have chosen to ignore this warning.
With a demand for a new menu.
And a replacement of a chef...
That has never existed to prepare a new dish.
They laugh and perceive this to be an absurdity.
'Excuse me? '
And the tides are rushing ever so close,
To toss them all over a cliff.
And this...
They protest with the loudest of voices.
And wish all of this nonsense,
Be stopped by the shutting of lips.
Excuse me?
Waiter?
Waiter?
Did you see him pass us?
As if he did not hear me.
WAITER?
That's it.
He gets from me no tip! '
That is why they pass petitions.
To avoid this 'foolishness'.
'Waiter?
And he's parading around here,
With a lifejacket on.
Waiter?
I'm demanding your presence immediately.
Oh no he didn't! !
Did you see him sush me? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fruitfly!
It was there on the red table cloth,
Of the Chinese Restaurant,
Where the chef use their left hands,
To pick up the right ingredients,
To put into the hot pans and pots,
To dish out the delicious fries of boneless meat,
Laced with Ketchup and in MSG puddle,
I forgot the ‘It' on the table,
It was like a grain of sand,
Suddenly started to crawl like an ant,
A small little cute ant took a stroll,
Beside my plate and cutlery,
Then it stopped crawling, I thought it was tired,
I took the servitude and folded it into a cone,
Touched it softly to provoke it,
Then it woke up from the slumber,
And started to crawl like any toddlers do,
When I tried to touch for the third time,
It spread its tiny wings and flew away,
In a split of a second, either it knows,
That it is in the wrong place,
To show its tiny fist thinking as hulk's
Or might have gone to the right place,
Where the rotten fruits are found.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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How Would You Like To Be?
(words & music by ben raleigh - mark barkan)
How would you like to be?
A little circus clown
And you could wear a smile
Instead of a frown
How would you like to be?
A little kangaroo
A-hoppin up and down
And I could hop with you
Come on and smile a little, smile a little
Hop a little, hop a little,
Smile a little, hop a little bit with me
Come on and smile a little, smile a little
Hop a little, hop a little,
Smile a little, hop a little bit with me
Oh ho, ha ha, a-tra la la la la la la
A ha, tra la la la la la la
How would you like to be?
A little buzzing bee
And instead of a tree
You could buzz around me
How would you like to be?
A little mocking bird
And you can sing me songs
Like I never heard
Come on and buzz a little, buzz a little
Sing a little, sing a little
Buzz a little, sing a little bit with me
Buzz, buzz, buzz a little
Do re mi a little
Buzz a little, sing a little bit with me
Oh-ho ah-ha, tra la la la la la la
Oh-ho, a-ha ,a-tra la la la la la la
How would you like to be?
A little baby bear
And you can hug me tight
Any time you care
How would you like to be?
A little dancing doll
And you could dance with me
Everytime I call
Oh-ho, tra la la la la la la
Oh-ho...ah-ah...tra la la la..la.la..la
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
Patterns all around you
Patterns everywhere
Patterns of behavior
Sometimes seem unfair
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Patterns unfamiliar
Patterns lead you through (to)
Patterns of discovery
Tracing out the clues
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Stuck in your mind
In this land where stability is hard to find
You can rearrange the patterns so unkind
Dont bother asking why a pattern never cries
Old patterns never die they just go on and on
Patterns multiplying
Re-direct our view
Endless variations
Make it all seem new
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Comment
Oil on troubled water
Grease on squeaky wheel
Quiet as a mouse am I
Not saying what I feel
To sit not…
Across a table
To tell you not…
What I’m able
Best to keep
It to myself
Store truth away
Upon the shelf
Oil on troubled water
Quiet as a mouse am I
Keepin’ me thoughts to meself
With a knowin’ wink o’ me eye
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surprise in Japan - Mosquitos in the Oil
not so oily to the ears
mosquitos and other insects
in the used cooking oil
cooking oil for reuse
mosquitos, and insects
at bottom of the can
restaurant special recipe
adding to the taste
used oil with mosquitos
Most books I read tell us about Japanese being very clean people but the chef of this this restaurant in Nishi Funabashi I found put his used cooking oil in a can and under the choppng table in the kitchen. It was meant for reuse. I found mosquitos, ants, and other insects at the bottom of the can. It was really a surprise.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty Can
An empty can all alone
Wandering the street with fleshless bone
Only the artist design bluff on the surface
But still rust peeped, praying to grab his whole face
It linger up and down the town on careless heads
I was clean and fit polished and neath when my owner first helds
Now I sleeps out side the house under market table
I'm empty and baseless with nowhere to go or no one to call my people
Whole night I stand and lay thinking how important it had been
When I was holding water, endless love is the best I had seen
They bath me twice every day and poured water on me which is only safe to drink
If anyone careless me, my mother will spill his skin ink
but since water started passing through my anus and purse
There even mother started being careless saying I've ran my course
I'm an empty can rattling my way aimlessly
I'm a ball I'm being kicked everywhere Uselessly
I'm an empty can I will lift battling feet who cannot stand
Since I can no more hold climax of knowledge hand
I'm an empty I wish I had all to gain knowledge
And I swear i'll help anyone who had his whole heart pledge
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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BAKED OYSTERS ROCKEFELLER by Marjorie Evasco
We take shelter from the monsoon rains
In the warm inflections of dinner
Spread out to our liking, a la carte.
The sky’s the old cliché: no limits here,
Chef’s a master at re-incarnating Lapu-lapu,
Or carving a plateful of Manansala’s heart.
Will I, I wonder, be so bold as to say
With a straight face to the waiter: we are
Carnal you see, hungry for the Other.
And we’d like everything as raw as we
Can get it in this civil place, with its piano,
Violin, china, silver, spotless linen.
You look at me, intent, your voice encodes
Bite-sized pleasures — (Kani Sushi, yes?)
Dipped desires — (Oysters Rockefeller, baked?) .
My mind scuttles the crab’s tangent
To our table, shelled; my tongue
sauces at the thought of succulents.
Even when the waiter interjects
Those Rockefellers are out of season,
What a feast live absences meant!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Guess the Title - Patter down Pat
..........................PATTERNS
....... ................which.......stitch
....... .........PATTERNS....PATTERNS
............ ...fit....................................into
...........PATTERNS....................PATTE RNS
.........knit......................... .........................onto
....PATTERNS ..........................................PATTERN S
enrich.................................. ...................................which
. ...PATTERNS...................................... ....PATTERNS
.........knit................ ..................................onto
... ........PATTERNS....................PATTERNS
...............fit............................ ........into
................PATTERNS....P ATTERNS
.......................which...... .stitch
..........................PATTERNS
10 August 1995
robi03_0762_robi03_0000 QXX_MXX
[C] Jonathan Robin written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ignored. (a Seagull Story)
Ignored. (A seagull story)
At the seaside restaurant it was busy everyone was eating lobsters,
I tried to catch the waiters’ eye. I was ignored and got the feeling
that I was Invisible, or that I was so small that my head didn’t reached
over the table. A seagull landed on my table a beautiful bird,
yellow beak and feet, plumage snowy white its wings light grey/blue
and its eyes were green; it also had the aroma of the Atlantic Ocean.
Waiter came, looked at the bird asked what it wanted, lobster, I said
when the dish came I gave it to the bird. Got up, left and no one tried
to stop me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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After A Morning Quarrel
After a morning quarrel with his wife
A husband has got a terrible life.
After work, coming back home,
He finds a warning syndrome.
It’s a note lying on the table:
Honey, I think you are able to heat up the food,
Today I am in a bad mood,
So, to cheer me up I went to my friend
To watch the film with a happy end.
The food is already on the stove.
The stove is in the restaurant The Fat Duck.
I wish you a good luck!
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance Off At The Cottage
What a night it was, I was at the Cottage.
I see him dancing all by himself,
Why who is it? It’s none other than Mouse.
Mouse is in the house!
So I go up to Andy and say,
Hey, I’m going to dance Mouse off the stage.
Then Andy gives me a wink,
I go to my friends who give me a drink.
I go to the D.J. and request,
Play Michael Jackson, who is the best.
Then the music begins to play,
I take my shoes off for they get in the way.
The floor is cold for it is brick,
I don’t care, I jump and kick.
Balloons begin to come my way,
Women starts taking pictures and laughing real gay.
Everyone is screaming, it is so much fun,
I dance around Mouse who is the one.
The one I have chosen,
Chosen to dance off the stage,
He finally leaves, and I still dance away.
It was a fun night I do say.
Thanks Mouse for being there to play.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 26,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
www.puppitlady.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance Off At The Cottage
What a night it was, I was at the Cottage.
I see him dancing all by himself,
Why who is it? It's none other than Mouse.
Mouse is in the house!
So I go up to Andy and say,
Hey, I'm going to dance Mouse off the stage.
Then Andy gives me a wink,
I go to my friends who give me a drink.
I go to the D.J. and request,
Play Michael Jackson, who is the best.
Then the music begins to play,
I take my shoes off for they get in the way.
The floor is cold for it is brick,
I don't care, I jump and kick.
Balloons begin to come my way,
Women starts taking pictures and laughing real gay.
Everyone is screaming, it is so much fun,
I dance around Mouse who is the one.
The one I have chosen,
Chosen to dance off the stage,
He finally leaves, and I still dance away.
It was a fun night I do say.
Thanks Mouse for being there to play.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 26,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Waggledance
Bees the, the, the bees
Buzz around buzz-buzz me buzz on me
Tales telling Tintagel to of me
Quiet lie I here, under waiting
Betwixt watching and tasting
Waggledance, dance, waggledance, dance, waggledance
Dilly-dally dally-dilly-0
Tomorrow yet and yet tomorrow goes
Dilly-dally dally-dilly-0
Waggledance, dance, waggledance, dance, waggledance
poem by Stefan nnn
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The Letter...2
That goodbye letter
That empty room,
That bare table
So much pain to endure.
Years have passed
My hair turned grey,
A letter under my door
It's from her,
'I still love you,
May I come home.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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