Factrory Food
Factory Made Food.
A perfect microwave dinner for one
sunrays drink from the wine bottle
The dinner is tasteless,
and the rest of the wine is warm
as a cat licks its paw and has no worry
about the morrow.
Who invented tuna fish with mashed potatoes?
It must be someone without a mother,
or if he had one, she must have been
a busy executive and time poor.
At the orphanage they eat left over of dinners
they never had, forever made into a stew
children do not care; yester-days loaf.
He sits in his mansion, count his money and
think of other variety of frozen food he can
invented preferable something that looks
looks like vomit.
He is a vegetarian and hate mankind for
liking meat…he hates greedy little children too
even his own, serves them burger made of
fat full of sugar and salt.
Knows he will follow them to the grave and
be the longest living man on earth.
Who the hell drank my wine?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taste Or Life?
They say honey is sweeter than wine;
Many say kiss is sweeter than wine!
Some are fond of sweet taste in all;
Many like hot taste in food we eat ever.
Taste is just a flavour of coffee we take;
Tasteless food nobody likes at first ever;
But food for living life cannot be ignored.
Sugar coated pill makes us take medicine;
Just like that taste makes food delicious!
Taste various from person to person ever;
Hence one man's food is another's poison!
So also taste for poetry, novel and articles
Say about one's mind, heart and soul ever;
More than taste food for living is fine ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Song Against Grocers
God made the wicked Grocer
For a mystery and a sign,
That men might shun the awful shops
And go to inns to dine;
Where the bacon's on the rafter
And the wine is in the wood,
And God that made good laughter
Has seen that they are good.
The evil-hearted Grocer
Would call his mother "Ma'am,"
And bow at her and bob at her,
Her aged soul to damn,
And rub his horrid hands and ask
What article was next
Though MORTIS IN ARTICULO
Should be her proper text.
His props are not his children,
But pert lads underpaid,
Who call out "Cash!" and bang about
To work his wicked trade;
He keeps a lady in a cage
Most cruelly all day,
And makes her count and calls her "Miss"
Until she fades away.
The righteous minds of innkeepers
Induce them now and then
To crack a bottle with a friend
Or treat unmoneyed men,
But who hath seen the Grocer
Treat housemaids to his teas
Or crack a bottle of fish sauce
Or stand a man a cheese?
He sells us sands of Araby
As sugar for cash down;
He sweeps his shop and sells the dust
The purest salt in town,
He crams with cans of poisoned meat
Poor subjects of the King,
And when they die by thousands
Why, he laughs like anything.
The wicked Grocer groces
In spirits and in wine,
Not frankly and in fellowship
As men in inns do dine;
But packed with soap and sardines
And carried off by grooms,
For to be snatched by Duchesses
And drunk in dressing-rooms.
The hell-instructed Grocer
Has a temple made of tin,
And the ruin of good innkeepers
Is loudly urged therein;
But now the sands are running out
From sugar of a sort,
The Grocer trembles; for his time,
Just like his weight, is short.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wine Bibber
I would rather drink than eat,
And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
I would rather drink than eat.
Though no Puritan I be,
And have doubts of Kingdom Come,
With those fellows I agree
Who deplore the Demon Rum.
Gin and brandy I decline,
And I shy at whisky neat;
But give me rare vintage wine,--
Gad! I'd rather drink than eat.
Food surfeit is of the beast;
Wine is from the gods a gift.
All from prostitute to priest
Can attest to its uplift.
Green and garnet glows the vine;
Grapes grow plump in happy heat;
Gold and ruby winks the wine . . .
Come! Let's rather drink than eat.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Bow To The First Man
My Bow to the first man
To the first man and women who born
On this earth
To the first man who eat something
To come out of hungry
TO the first man who made a tent for him
To the first man who invented fire
To cook his food
To the first man who found water
Which satisfy his thirst
To the first man who seeded
First plant to produce food
To the first man who used
Sharp object to kill wild animal
For his survival
To the first man who made horse
As his travel animal
To the first man who found
Agriculture as his necessity
To the first man who invented
Language for communication
To the first man who made his
Life with wife
To the first man who got a child
Of his own to build family
To first man who invented
Pain reliever for wounds
To the first man who invented
Social life by making villages
I bow my head before their feet
And remember them always
poem by Tulasi Suguna Prasad Kalvala
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song against Grocers
God made the wicked Grocer
For a mystery and a sign,
That men might shun the awful shops
And go to inns to dine;
Where the bacon's on the rafter
And the wine is in the wood,
And God that made good laughter
Has seen that they are good.
The evil-hearted Grocer
Would call his mother "Ma'am,"
And bow at her and bob at her,
Her aged soul to damn,
And rub his horrid hands and ask
What article was next
Though MORTIS IN ARTICULO
Should be her proper text.
His props are not his children,
But pert lads underpaid,
Who call out "Cash!" and bang about
To work his wicked trade;
He keeps a lady in a cage
Most cruelly all day,
And makes her count and calls her "Miss"
Until she fades away.
The righteous minds of innkeepers
Induce them now and then
To crack a bottle with a friend
Or treat unmoneyed men,
But who hath seen the Grocer
Treat housemaids to his teas
Or crack a bottle of fish sauce
Or stand a man a cheese?
He sells us sands of Araby
As sugar for cash down;
He sweeps his shop and sells the dust
The purest salt in town,
He crams with cans of poisoned meat
Poor subjects of the King,
And when they die by thousands
Why, he laughs like anything.
The wicked Grocer groces
In spirits and in wine,
Not frankly and in fellowship
As men in inns do dine;
But packed with soap and sardines
And carried off by grooms,
For to be snatched by Duchesses
And drunk in dressing-rooms.
The hell-instructed Grocer
Has a temple made of tin,
And the ruin of good innkeepers
Is loudly urged therein;
But now the sands are running out
From sugar of a sort,
The Grocer trembles; for his time,
Just like his weight, is short.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bottle Of Red Wine
(by bonnie bramlett and eric clapton)
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
You hear what I say?
Gonna love you anyway.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I went to an all-night get together
And everyone I knew was there.
Had the love that would last forever.
Everywhere I looked, I saw you standing there.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
I said get up right now, oh oh.
I said get up right now.
Feel so bad this morning; got a terrible headache in my head.
Do me a favor, baby, do me a favor please.
Please get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up, get up; get your man a big big bottle of red wine.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blackberry Wine
Theres a south wind risin and the moon shines on my window sill
Ive got a feeling I might walk on over the hill
Im bent but not broken, all I need is some rest
And a bottle of your very best
Blackberry wine
Theres a new moon risin and the wind sings its old song
Pass it on over its a sin to be sober too long
Im bent but not broken, all I need is my share
Of a bottle of that very rare
Blackberry wine
My old gals got a new dress on five and dime
Try as she will she cant get me to come home on time
But Id never cheat her or mistreat her you know
As over the mountain I go
Blackberry wine
Ill be soft spoken
All I need is my rest
And a bottle of your very best
Blackberry wine
Now my days are numbered and one more heels been killed
Blackberry john left me his old recipe in his will
Im bent but not broken, all I need is some time
And a bottle of your very fine
Blackberry wine
Blackberry wine,
You know that Im quite dry without you
Blackberry wine
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pork Chops are Fun
chop chop chop the pork squeals over dinner
with it's fatty bits and tasty bites
it marinates on a stick over hot coal
who will taste it first who will finish the bowl
Wow Pork Chops with red wine
then dinner will be divine
chop chop chop the pork is done
with ginger, wine and lots of fun
it's time to have with a salty bun
chop chop chop see it go in the oven my friends
it's dinner time lets eat it all
then lets sit together and have a ball
chop chop chop the pork tastes good
with the meat so tender it bloody weel should
sometimes on the pan sometimes as a roast
call your freinds for dinner it's a dish one can boast
chop chop chop the pork is done
sprikle a little wine to make things bright
then the meat put it on light
watch it burn and tremble with delight
chop chop chop my pork chops are done
poem by Anuj Tikku
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Let's Have a Party.
Let's have a party, invite the family around,
Tell them it's teat time, and come south bound;
We'll have it as a barbecue, so b.y.o some meat,
But we will supply salad, drinks, and also sweet.
Let's have a party, but dress up in a costume,
Don't say who you are, we have to assume;
And the food will be served as a supper too,
With Chicken, no wine, and some dessert will do.
Let's have a party for children, on Friday,
Seeing its a birthday, the kids will go hooray;
Let's put up streamers, have finger food too,
After all the games and food sing happy birthday to you.
Let's have a pre wedding party, for bride and groom,
Go out to dinner, let's try the sunset room;
We'll book a smorgasbord dinner, make it for forty,
Then come back to our place after, for tea or coffee.
Let's have a Christmas party, all family and a friend,
We'll sing lots of carols, and have a story at the end;
Each bring 1 present, for under the christmas tree,
And thank God for Christmas from you and me.
poem by Margaret Haig
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I can't Rest even When I Sleep
I can’t rest even when sleep. My dreams are replays of my day. When I got up in the morning I saw my old man cuddling an empty bottle of E&J. While my mom lies with a bag of thawed frozen peas on her eye which she used when they were frozen to sooth the pain my drunken ass dad gave her when he slapped her. Then there’s lunchtime while everyone else was eating some form of fast-food I choked downed a dry piece of stale raisin bread and nuke warm public water fountain water. Dinner time hell lunch was dinner and as for prime time TV the only thing I saw on must see TV was my old man and mom fighting until dad passed out same channel, same time ever night. I can’t rest even when I sleep. My dreams are a replay of my day.
Taste Of Food
In food is a certain quality of taste,
May they abstain and be erased.
For food manages my godly life,
Just as the fish manage with strife.
In this food, in that food we collapse
And honour a feast with some gaps.
The food we eat as dinner shall be kind
To the sleep we carry throughout the mind.
What food do you cook with expertise?
Fish and meat will certainly cease!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I Love You
Why I love you, because you are you!
You just you, is that all they ask?
Well there's more because inside her that's where love is kindled
Where hate is dwindled,
Where wine doth flow when dinner is served
Warm fires within producing love preserved,
Woman of this world are the planners of the nest
You rise with love a star above the rest.
Love exudes in everything you do
You are love; you're made of love its true,
Love love love love you spread it around
Your children, neighbours friends love abounds.
Deep from your heart it must start from above
You I surely and truly do love.
poem by Ken e Hall
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A Rape In The Late Night
It was a late night,
I had to complete my office-work,
So I made a sitting with my boss.
I saw my boss staring at me,
My shawl slipped down,
But the boss kept it back,
on my shoulders,
I paid him thanks,
'Mention not' he said,
Then he hugged me tightly,
He began to pat my back.
And took me up in his embrace.
I was frightened and,
tried myself to hide
He had come over me
and paid so many kisses
on my cheeks.
I requested him,
Not to stretch me wide,
He took a bottle of beer,
And told me dear,
Take some wine please,
I will sure you release,
Promise, you would do it sure,
Oh, yes, he promised, once more.
I took a sip of wine,
He murmured very fine!
Then he made me drink again,
I had become intoxicated,
So I took the wine again and again,
Having too much drink,
I was unable to think,
The difference between wrong and right,
My boss covered me with all his might.
I had no sense then he made me nude,
And began to kiss my fleshy thighs
as a delicious food,
I couldn't oppose,
He got me ready for different pose,
Then he embraced me and enjoyed
To co-operate him I couldn't avoid.
He stroke me all the night long,
Raped me again and again,
In the morning he left me alone,
When I woke up and,
Came back to my senses,
Recalling all nightly activity,
I knew I had lost my virginity.
...............................
poem by Rani Madhubala
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Whoever would have guessed that in the land of cheap sausages and mashed potatoes there could be such a change which would actually bring the French from Paris every weekend to invade Britain en masse to eat great food and drink great wine.
quote by Robin Leach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex and After.
She knows one day
Sex will be a memory,
A nightly séance with
Her dead self. Hardwick
Will still be just one of
Her many lovers, pissing
His pants in some old folks
Home, dribbling over his
Shirt, forgetting her as he
Turns to go numbly to sleep.
She inhales her cigarette,
Watches the smoke rise,
Sees in the corner of her
Room, a spider hanging.
Hardwick is due at seven.
He will bring white wine,
Foreign food, the hot sexy
Movie they both want to
See, then to bed, sex, sleep.
She exhales the smoke, holds
The cigarette to one side, her
Naked body sensing warm
The sheets. Suzie he'll say,
Putting the wine and food in
The fridge, placing the movie
On, can we try that position on
Page 35? Last time it was page
32, the position not much fun,
Too much work, quite hard to do.
Mother'd turn in her grave to
See her thus. Naked at four in
The afternoon, smoking French
Cigarettes, thinking of hot sex,
Wanting old age to stay away.
She sits up, stubs out the cigarette.
Mother died of cancer, too soon,
Too much, no answer. Hardwick
Will bring and expect the same:
The wine, the food, the sex after
The movie, the sleep after in her
Double bed, and all the time that
Humming of her mother in her head.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bible Stories: Daniel, Bel and the Dragon
When King Astyages died,
Cyrus of Persia became king;
Daniel was his honored companion.
The Babylonians’ idol was Bel;
Each day, they offered twelve bushels of flour,
Forty sheep and fifty gallons of wine;
The king too worshipped Bel;
But Daniel worshipped his own God!
When the King asked Daniel,
‘Why don’t you worship Bel? ’
Daniel answered he didn’t revere
Any man-made idols,
But worshipped the One, living God,
Who’d created heaven and the earth.
The king asked him, “Isn’t Bel’s a living God?
He eats and drinks each day”
But Daniel told him not to be deceived;
The idol was just inner clay,
And outer brass that never ate nor drank.
The angered King ushered the priests,
And ordered them to prove
That Bel ate /drank each day;
If so, Daniel would die for blasphemy;
If not, all of them would be killed;
The priests agreed to prove the same;
There were seventy priests, their wives and children.
The king entered the temple;
The priests asked him to place the food
And wine himself, and shut the door,
And seal it by his signet ring;
The priests didn’t care as below the statue,
They had a secret route through which they went
In and out, devouring the offerings.
When the food had been placed,
Then Daniel sifted ashes all
O’er the temple-floor;
With the help of servants,
in the king’s presence and left;
The door was sealed by the king’s ring.
At night, the priests and others secretly
went in and ate everything;
Next day, the king with Daniel came
And opened the sealed temple door,
But found that the food had vanished!
The king shouted aloud to Bel,
“You’re great and undeceiving God.”
But Daniel laughed and showed the king
The footsteps on the temple’s floor;
The king agreed that it was that of
men, women and children.
The enraged king then seized the priests
They showed the secret route;
They were all put to death;
The king gave Daniel the temple of Bel;
Daniel destroyed both Bel and the temple.
The Babylonians revered a dragon;
The king asked Daniel, “Isn’t this a living God? ”
But Daniel said that he worshipped
Only his one, living God;
If permitted by the king,
He would slay the dragon
by sword or club.
So, Daniel fed the dragon
Cakes containing pitch, fat and hair;
The dragon consumed it all
and burst open dead!
The angered Babylonians
Spread word that the king had turned a Jew;
They demanded that Daniel
Be put into a lion’s den;
Compelled, the king did as they urged.
Daniel was inside the den
For six days with seven lions;
The lions were not fed anything;
They were denied the daily food
Of two human bodies and two sheep.
The prophet Habakkuk was in Judea;
While taking food to the reapers,
God sent an angel to him
And ordered him take dinner to Daniel;
Habakkuk told he had never seen Babylon,
The angel took him by his crown of head
And put him aloft the lion’s den with the food;
The prophet shouted to Daniel
To come and eat the food given by God;
Daniel thanked the Lord for his remembrance.
On seventh day, the king went to the den,
He thought that Daniel would be dead;
To his utter surprise, he was alive;
He took him out and praised
The one living God of Daniel.
He threw into the lion’s den;
All those who plotted against Daniel;
Immediately, they were all killed
And devoured by the hungry lions.
(4-11-2007)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red, Sparkling Wine
I Have Seen A Sight
Of a Man Falling Down …
… it wasn’t for a Fight
… but it was due to what He’d Found …
… Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… She Should Be A Crime …
Red Sparkling Wine…
She Starts out – Flowing – Smooth
Gets in Your Blood – Then You got Somethin’ to Prove!
You Chase Her Intoxicating Perfume
… must be Brand X … or Lady-Doom …
… Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… Feeling So Sublime …
Red Sparkling Wine…
… Sweet from the Vine, but She ain’t Vintage
Make You Loose Your Mind and Your Hard-Earned Wages
Her Cheap-Thrills… can’t Heal a Heart, that’s Bruised …
You ain’t in Love! … just in a Bottle of Booze …
of Red Sparkling Wine… Once in awhile is Fine
Red Sparkling Wine… Know the Warning Signs ….
of Red Sparkling Wine…
She’s Beautiful, as She Pours
Your Problems – Passed-Out, on The Floor
She’s Crystal-Blood in an Hour-Glass
Her Pity-Promises… just don’t Last…
Red Sparkling Wine… Does It Every Time
Red Sparkling Wine… She’ll have You begging for Dimes …
… to buy … Red Sparkling Wine…
She’ll leave You Broke, You won’t be able to Think
She’s ‘Madam Dope’ … if You Need One More Drink
… of Red Sparkling Wine… Just a Matter of Time
Red Sparkling Wine… Have Another… ‘ Cause I’m …
… Red Sparkling Wine …
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bluebird Wine
(rodney crowell)
Baby brought me in out off the highway
Made me put my money in the bank, bank
Straightened out my crooked way of thinking
Made it purely pleasure when I drank
And its all right
Ive just hit my stride
Right off the bat
Lord, Im drunk on bluebird wine
Baby taught me a diffrent way of thinkin
Like how to spend my evenings here at home
Listning to the music on the radio
Drinking all the bluebird we can hold
And its all right
Ive just hit my stride
Right off the bat
Lord, Im drunk on bluebird wine
Baby says hed really love a party
Well get some friends together feelin fine
Any friend of mine is worth his habit
A belly full of babys bluebird wine
And its all right
Ive just hit my stride
Right off the bat
Lord, Im drunk on bluebird wine
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sestina #2
why
I don't care for the money
I don't care for nothing
because every feeling you had was no more that words
but they have been my food
and never filled me, you had nothing to quench my thirst
thirst
I'm tires of the repetion tell me why.
my body is dying I need food
I'm sorry I made a mistake, but I want no money
just countless words
that speakes to nothing
Nothing
my three days are up, I beg thee quench my thirst
I'm so pleased to say those words
my rhetorical question is: why?
I rather to live in the 30's than to have money
I rather live without food
fourth time I said food
Dear, it's nothing.
You shown me that before, I HATE IT, the money.
emotions are dry. and I thirst
...you moke me, why?
they are more than words
they are Words
an entity that my mind's eye use as food
something is new, again why?
i'm teary eyed. It's nothing
situation change, but I'll never dout my thirst.
You are wrong, my mind does not want money
money
it makes lame all your words
your eye is dim, you thirst.
the lines I writes can be your food
but you want nothing
I don't care. don't ask, why
I'm tired of the symobles for money, because they have no belly for food
esoteric words, impressing nothing.
And i still still thrist...why?
poem by Victoria Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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