How Can I Eat That Apple?
it is half the apple
it used to be
sliced on the table
named for you
you know that
i cannot take it
rotten besides
there is a worm
coming out
from inside it
it is taken
you say so
i am glad
it isn't mine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Consumed (Stream III)
The consumer consumed
Like a snake eating its tail.
The worm in the bud,
The rotten apple,
Rotten to the core,
No core.
A corpse eaten inside out.
Outside the circle,
Circling in for the kill,
Killing time
Time to kill.
We slowly die
Outside in,
In need,
We are addicted.
Waiting for our next fix,
Try to fix it
Mr Fix It.
We're in a fix.
With fixed gaze
We watch the ads.
The ads add,
Add to our wants.
Feed our addictions
With sugar and technology.
A hunger we cannot satisfy
Dissatisfied we die inside.
We are subsumed,
The consumer consumed.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Mr. John Glenn
There once was an apple
That had fallen from a tree
I picked it up, and it was stuck
To my hand, I could'nt get free
So I shook and shook and shook
Until my hand was sore
But from deep inside, I heard a cry
Way inside the core
I ask myself what could it be
A snake or even a worm
Can it breathe or even sneeze
Should I be concerned
But then I heard a voice within
And now I'm really baffled
I'll ask my teacher if there's a creature
Inside this nice red apple
And if she says no, there's no such thing
Why are you asking me this
Cause if I don't ask, this too shall not pass
And i'll be taking a risk
The teacher says, now don't be silly
There's nothing inside this fruit
Now don't be a clown, just go put it down
And join the rest of the group
Then she stood up and held up the apple
And said, class this is my friend
I was a little concerned about bringing a worm
Whom I call, Mr. John Glenn
But teacher you said to never ever lie
Not even a little or a lot
Well if he gets loose, you'll see it's the truth
A creature John Glenn is not
poem by Kevin Seales
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Worm Either Way
If you live along with all the other people
and are just like them, and conform, and are nice
you're just a worm --
and if you live with all the other people
and you don't like them and won't be like them and won't conform
then you're just the worm that has turned,
in either case, a worm.
The conforming worm stays just inside the skin
respectably unseen, and cheerfully gnaws away at the heart of life,
making it all rotten inside.
The unconforming worm -- that is, the worm that has turned --
gnaws just the same, gnawing the substance out of life,
but he insists on gnawing a little hole in the social epidermis
and poking his head out and waving himself
and saying: Look at me, I am not respectable,
I do all the things the bourgeois daren't do,
I booze and fornicate and use foul language and despise your honest man.--
But why should the worm that has turned protest so much?
The bonnie bonnie bourgeois goes a-whoring up back streets just the same.
The busy busy bourgeois imbibes his little share
just the same
if not more.
The pretty pretty bourgeois pinks his language just as pink
if not pinker,
and in private boasts his exploits even louder, if you ask me,
than the other.
While as to honesty, Oh look where the money lies!
So I can't see where the worm that has turned puts anything over
the worm that is too cunning to turn.
On the contrary, he merely gives himself away.
The turned worm shouts. I bravely booze!
the other says. Have one with me!
The turned worm boasts: I copulate!
the unturned says: You look it.
You're a d----- b----- b----- p----- bb-----, says the worm that's turned.
Quite! says the other. Cuckoo!
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Glad All Over
You say that you love me, all of the time
You say that you need me, and you'll always be mine
I'm feelin'... glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over
Glad all over, so glad you're mine
I'll make you happy
You'll never be through
You have no sorrow
'Cause you'll always be true
I'm feelin'... glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over (ma, mama)
Glad all over, so glad you're mine
All the girls, they try to take me away
But you know, it's by your side I'll always stay...
I'll always stay (whoa yeah)
Oh, I'm feelin'... glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over (ma, mama)
Glad all over, so glad you mine
I'll over last love, till the end of time
Because it's love, it's all yours to claim
I'm feelin'... glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over (ma, mama)
Glad all over, so glad you're mine
All the girls, they try to take me away
But you know, it's by your side I'll always stay...
I'll always stay (whoa yeah)
I'm feelin'... glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over
Glad all over, so glad you're mine
I'm feelin'... glad all over (Mama I'ma)
Glad all over (yes I'm)
Glad all over, so glad you're mine
I'm fellin' glad glad glad (oh yeah)
Glad glad glad (Ooo, ooo, yeah)
Glad glad glad (oh yeah)
Glad glad glad (I know)
Glad glad glad (Ooo, ooo, yeah)
Glad glad (Ooo, whoooo)
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Apple And The Worm
you meet a woman
she wears a smile
and you pass each other
slowly by
she looks at you
and she seems to tell you
'i know you'
you step back
and gaze at her slender shoulder
''i know her'you tell yourself
silently
you remember her name
but there is no feeling anymore
you look back again
she is gone
but it does not really matter
the past is rotten
(she is the apple and
you were once her worm
and someone so nice
ate her whole)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is Something Inside My Mouth
there is something inside
my mouth
coming from my heart
moving out through
my esophagus
it is inside my mouth.
my tongue cannot hold it anymore.
i spit it out. it is a worm. it is turning into a coccoon.
it is a butterfly.
it is fluttering.
do you think that it can be the poem for my
busy day today?
it falls. It is dead. It has turned into a leaf.
dust. another dust that i have bitten.
tomorrow, i will swallow another worm.
but i will not bite it again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ring Worm Seeds
Tighten up and closed bottle
Living inside protected
Seems to be in safety
Label within guaranty
Before the given time passed
Agents of ring worm seeds
Struggle inside though it is
Closed and protected
Guaranty can be and may be
But inside from bottom
Living beings pressure to open
To do or not
To live or not
Inside being rotten
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Inside Out
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybody keeps on telling me how to be
And everybody tells me do what they say
Oh Ill help myself its up to me and no-one else
But till Im ready just keep out of my way
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybodys got me running round, up and down
And here I am going out of my mind
But I wont lose sight of all the, the things Im looking for
Theyre coming to me and Im taking whats mine
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Ill play the game
Well make the same mistakes
Its all the same
If we can give and take
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
All of my life Ive been searching and hanging on
Turning a corner, never know what Id find
But now Im back again like I never went away
Ooh let me in Im through with wasting my time
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Oh inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The (f) Rying Woman....
to pry upon his weakness and to discover
some artifacts from his house is her past time
and every hour when there is a break from the
wanton hours and the monotonous menu of the day
she opens the usual window and watch what the
worm is doing inside the terrarium
she records the possibility that this can be a landmark
of history and significant for what others say as a phenomenon
other people's lives matter
and sometimes the worm that looks at her too asks: why?
the worm, and she does not know this, is also prying upon her
her shrinking breasts, her skin that looks like dry tobacco leaf
her life that to the worm has become more of a raisin
stuffed inside a boxed, with a history of having been dried by the sun
the worm is fair though, in its latest description
she is still sweet though neutral in smell, and deserves still to be liked to be eaten someday
p.s. the worm remarks, kids will like her.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Apple, Red Apple
Red apple
Red apple
sitting on the ledge
savouring its nutrients
for a few moments longer
Red apple
Red apple
Savouring its time
That is has left
As a whole
Red apple
Red apple
Traveled such a
Long way, from the store?
Farm? another country?
Red apple
Red apple
Haunting me by
The curiosity of
How juicy you taste
Red apple
Red apple
Shine on,
Red apple
poem by John McAdam
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Cycle
cell to worm
to body of an
animal
to death
rotten flesh back
to worm
and cell
there is an
exit from this
useless cycle
there is
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sliced Bread
Sliced bread...
Whole wheat and toasted.
Buttered with jam,
And munched.
Either with tea, punch...
Or just plain water for lunch!
Sliced bread...
With cheddar cheese and tomato.
Add Romaine lettuce,
Topped with fried strips of bacon.
This too will certainly do.
Sliced bread...
Oatmeal raisin,
Oven baked and fed.
Sliced bread...
Crumbed to stuff a turkey.
And seasoned to gobble...
With an aftertaste on the tongue,
Deliciously nutmeged!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Distances....
this distance shall seal
the fate of those bridges
the empty space
are cut arms
the chasms between our
thoughts
are sliced feet
there are no more nails
to scratch what pleasures
are there
in this all broken
arrangement
the words fall from the trees
like poisoned leaves
as i walk away like a thief
you shall have the last
laugh
when you are dead and there
shall be peace
i shall come back
not to bury you with all
the requisites of
religious dignity
i am coming with my vultures
and they shall have a feast
on your rotten
belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rotten bastards
The lot of you.
All of you
You are all rotten bastards.
And I hate you all
All of you
Raped and abused me.
But what goes around comes around.
And revenge will be mine.
Rotten bastards.
You rotten rats.
Rape and abuse.
Is that all you can do?
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Apple Pie and Custard
Apple pie and custard
Sitting on the table,
All I have to do is eat my meal
And I'll be able
To pull it close to me,
Pick up my spoon and see,
If it's half as good
As it's made out to be upon the label.
I dunked the spoon and listened
To the soggy sound it made,
The pie split like an earthquake
And 'twas then I was afraid;
The custard ran inside,
No more could I abide,
It was eaten
I was thankful for the money Mum had paid.
(Written Feb 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
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The Songs Of The Canadian Canary
got a friend and i named her
my canadian canary
she is caring
and sends me some gifts
perfume
for my body
fish oil for my heart
some haiku
for my day
some emails to remind me
some pictures
and paintings of spring,
and some winters too
and oh, the summer
and the worm
and the peony on her table
concrete friendship
from my canadian canary
and how can i not return
what she has given
she never asked me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pure Shores
I've crossed the deserts for miles
Swam water for time
Searching places to find
A piece of something to call mine
(I'm coming)
A piece of something to call mine
(I'm coming)
(I'm coming)
Coming closer to you
Went along many moors
Walked through many doors
The place where I wanna be
Is the place I can call mine
(I'm coming)
Is the place I can call mine
(I'm coming)
(I'm coming)
Coming closer to you
I'm moving
I'm coming
Can you hear
song performed by by All Saints from Saints & Sinners
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Set Free
I remember once when your soul was clean
And also the time when that apple was green
The apple it grew from the tree upon its limb
And we matured from children, and grew into women and men
What happened to us then, was truly unforeseen.
I remember that apple, and it I would not pick
Though it was not deliberate or had it been a trick
So it grew all alone and then on the limb it rotted
From age and negligence it was also spotted
Now that apple disagreed with my body's politic.
I read and then I heard stories all about you
Sadly none were lies as they all were on the venue
We had been used and cheated as your soul had waited
Seems that was the purpose, that you were created
Never would I want to act or to become like you.
I read in the news that you had died
My reaction to that news I could not hide
As I remembered that rotten apple falling from the tree
Then it hit the ground, its essence was set free
So for you or the apple, I had not cried.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Bullet Named Ken
A Snapshot of war.
He lies next to me in the mud
Dead; a shot blew half of his skull
Away leaving the taste of brains
In my mouth.” I shot that goddamn,
Dirty, rotten rag head, Ken! I
Cut him in half before he
Hit the ground! ” Ken had a grotesque
look on his dirty, blood-soaked face.
Something I couldn’t quite make out.
I stared into his vacant eyes
And found myself unconsciously
Saying with no embarrassment,
“I’m glad it had “your” name on it.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Lost to Foreclosure
You need more flavor in your beef.
Unconscious actions,
Are wide spreading.
And a relief you seek,
Is not forthcoming.
A remedy preached...
Chased away those freedoms,
Decreasing under your feet.
That taste of apple pie,
Thought sliced is missing.
Left are crumbs you pick,
With leased payments due.
The voice you silenced,
Is lost to foreclosure.
Never coming back...
Nor are your dreams,
Of having more fat to lick...
Will drip off your subsidized back!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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