Sexually Twisted
like a dog so deprived
of food
my handsome friend
while asleep
dreams of bones
and ribs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bone's Patterns Popping Ribs
By Ombuge M moses
Bones an' ribs goes Popping
Popping by
Ribs form patterns, skeletons alike
Meat goes hiding,
dry and bony
Ribs patterns goes forming
Forming by
Energy goes weak
Weakens by
Sickness comes calling
Calling by
No food persisting
Persists by
Children goes unconscious
Dead dry
Death carry them weary
In coma dead asleep
Children wake up in spirits dry
Dead dry no food for termites
No energy in spirits dead
To convince termite why dry
Termites convene weak
No food for termite colony
Bones an' ribs goes on popping
In life death and spirit
Popping by
poem by Ombuge M Moses
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Because Nothing Taste As Good As Skinny Feels
ice cream tastes good
but being able to see my ribs sounds better
a big bag of candy sounds good
but feeling my hip bones tastes better
fast food taste good
but a gap between my thighs sounds better
food is good
but being skinny is better
poem by Kathryn Briones
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Very conscious of the fact that an effort was being made to destroy my mind, because I was deprived of books, deprived of any means of writing, deprived of human companionship. You never know how much you need it until you're deprived of it.
quote by Wole Soyinka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Food is My Friend
Food is my friend,
I eat it everyday.
When I'm all done,
I throw the trash away!
Food is really good;
I like chicken and pizza and fries.
I think that without it,
I just would not survive!
Food can be gross, too;
It stinks when it's gone bad.
But when it doesn't stink,
It actually tastes rad!
Food is the best;
I'm sad when it ends.
But all in all,
FOOD IS MY FRIEND! !
this was written by me and my brother
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Home-Cooked Meal
Most poets will lie to you at some point
they serve up side dishes of lyrical fibs
so rarely do they serve home-cooked meals
of poetry that sticks to your ribs
forgive my honesty
but when it comes to soul food scripture one on one
I take the cake
from under the baker's thumb
most straddle the fence
and avoid their own heart
but trying to convince you to feel every word
and open up old scars
the kitchen seems a little hot for their liking
so, fast is the food of choice
but preservatives eventually wear away
and all that remains is the voice
the meal
the rage
don't let your pen fall asleep
on the page.
poem by Harlequin Rose
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A Food For Everything!
Meals are the food for the body;
Knowledge is the food for the mind;
Meditation is the food for the spirit;
Music is the food for the love of heart;
Dreams are the food for the consciousness;
Prayer is the food for the Almighty;
Love is the food for the living heart;
Thoughts are the food for the brain;
Colourful ink is the food for the pen;
Ideas are the food for the stories;
Truth is the food for the will;
Sun’s energy is the food for the plants;
Plants are the food for the living beings;
But one man’s food is another man’s poison!
poem by Ramesh T A
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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
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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
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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
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What Makes A True Friend?
What are the qualities that a friend should
have – that which would make a true friend so true?
A friend is one whom you like to be with
while a true friend insists on being with you.
A friend likes you when you have so much in
common. True friends like you who for who you are.
True friends make you feel as though they are at
all times near, although they are very far.
A true friend is one whom you can always
talk to, even at night when it is late -
when loved ones are asleep, a true friend is
always there to hear what you have to say.
Friends like to share, but a true friend always
gives you – not what you want, but what you need.
The feelings you hide, as well as your thoughts,
and your dreams, a true friend can always read.
A friend may forgive you or they may not
forgive, for something wrong you've done to them.
A true friend forgives even when you don't
ask. True friends forgive - again and again.
Friends are close when you are close to them. A
true friend wants your friendship to be closer.
A true friend does what is best for you, and
hates that you would end up with the losers.
A true friend teaches you lessons to help
you grow – lessons that are hard and easy.
A true friend is always there - having a
true friend can never make you feel lonely.
Friends may sometimes make mistakes, but a true
friend is always careful not to hurt you.
A true friend is a guide and a teacher.
A true friend knows everything you go through.
The true friend I mention is our God,
who kept you company before you were born.
The friendship of God, if you truly keep
and cherish, you will never feel forlorn.
The true friend we all need is God (Allah) –
the One who guides and can teach us lessons,
the One who hears our calls and understands,
the One always near – in every season –
Allah, as a Friend, never judges us
by the way we look and how we appear.
Allah, as a Guide, if we ask Him for
guidance, He guides us and makes our paths clear.
Allah is with us – each day and each night –
He is always there when all are asleep.
Allah always listens when others don't.
He gives you comfort when He sees you weep.
Fortunate are those who have Allah as
a Friend. Friendship with God is friendship true.
May Allah bless me with His Friendship and
May Allah's Friendship be shared with you too.
Ameen.
poem by Miriam Mababaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lugubrious Whing-Whang
The rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best
Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs,--
'Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest,
An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed,
An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest.--
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
I don't know what in the world it means--
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!--
An' nen when I _tell_ him I don't, he leans
Like he was a-grindin' on some machines
An' says: Ef I _don't_, w'y, I don't know _beans!_
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!--
Out on the margin of Moonshine Land,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand,
Writing his name with his tail in the sand,
And swiping it out with his oogerish hand;
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks?
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Or what _is_ the sound that the Whing-Whang seeks?--
Crouching low by the winding creeks
And holding his breath for weeks and weeks!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
'Tis a fair Whing-Whangess, with phosphor rings
And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings;
And she sits and as sadly and softly sings
As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings,--
Tickle me, Dear,
Tickle me here,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Art and poetry
Art is for ingenious men
Who are supplied with food and women.
Poetry is for grievous ones
Who are deprived of food and love.
The admirers of art and poetry
Are men of deprivation..
27.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have A Friend
I have a friend who cannot walk
I have a friend all he does is talk
I have a friend, Philippe is his name
I have a friend and we are just the same
I have a friend he’s seventeen years old
I have a friend who has a heart of gold
I have a friend who would catch me if I fall
It is only that he has no legs at all
I have a friend and when my friend was seven
A car ran over him and he almost went to heaven
I have a friend with a smile that I adore
I have a friend who lives in a house of four
I have a friend his family is his home
I have a friend who dreams of visiting Rome
I have a friend who is still finishing school
Yet some people tell him that for that he is a fool
I have a friend they say he is disabled
He has no legs and for that he is labeled
I have a friend who has a friend
They were made for each other; their love will never end
I have a friend who likes to name the stars
I have a friend and what he hates is cars
I have a friend who’s happier than you and me
I have a friend who’s shown me how happy I can be
I have a friend who’s had his bad times too
I have a friend who’s better than me and you
I have a friend so dear to me and kind
That another one like him I shall never find!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When Sun peeps through the tattered sky I saw dew on the grass!
Our daughter in Australia sent us a digital camera.
Thank you very much!
I ran to the faraway burial grounds in my dreams
To take a photograph of my poor Mom & Dad!
Then the Cemetery Keeper who's smell of Liquor
Stopped me and said; ' Leave them alone as they're fast asleep.'
Still it's a dilemma the skinny drunkard whether he's dead or alive?
*I dedicate this poem to my shadowy friend Paddy Martin who's fast asleep!
Please have a rest as the War still goes on here and there?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Dreams To Remember
Artist(Band):Robert Palmer
(Print the Lyrics)
I got dreams, dreams to remember
I got dreams, dreams to remember
Honey I saw you there last night
Another man's arms holding you tight
Nobody knows how I felt inside
All I know is I walked away and cried
I got dreams, dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
I know you said he was just a friend
But I saw you kiss him again and again
These eyes of mine they don't fool me
Why did he hold you so tenderly
I got dreams, dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
I got dreams, dreams to remember
I still want you to stay
I still love you anyway
I don't want you to ever leave
Girl - you just satisfy me
I know you said he was just a friend
But I saw you kiss him again and again
These eyes of mine they don't fool me
Why did you hold him so tenderly
I got dreams, dreams to remember
Ooh dreams
Brok'n dreams
Don't help each other
Bad dreams
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember
Dreams to remember........
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Can You Share a Piece of my Dream?
All my dreams every night
Take me far away.
But all those dreams are never right.
There's not a place I can stay.
‘Cause where I am right next to you
is the place where I belong
and in all those dreams I have at night,
to me everything's wrong.
*** So can you share a piece of my dream?
Can you come with me?
I'd look forward to falling asleep
for I know there'd be
No black and white dreams
with no moonbeams,
No colorless places
with all the wrong faces.
‘Cause if you share a piece of my dream
your face is the only thing I'll see.
So come along and enter my dreams.
There are so many places to see.
And every place we travel to
we'll remember and I'll know
that wherever I am, asleep or awake
everything is right.
So can you share a piece of my dream
when I fall asleep tonight?
REPEAT ***
Words and Music by
EDWINA REIZER
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Restin Bones
Came up on a worried man, asked him if he had a light.
He reached on down, dug in his shoe, figured in his sock he might.
He asked if he could come and join, at what we was partakin in.
I says,ol soul if you got a match, you also got yourself a friend.
The smoke drew hard but laid in good, the neon gave us extra shine.
We passed around a flask of knockando, and a half litre bottle of wine.
The worried man dropped down to his knees, and let out with a somber groan.
He looked up to me and when I asked, he said,Im just restin my bones.
I looked down at him, and him up at me, then a smile rose above his chin.
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down, said, listen to me now my friend.
When I was your age I did it all, more than many men could do,
Now my possessions are the ones I wear on my back, and this lighter I keep in my shoe.
Thats why Im restin my bones.
Im restin my bones for the times I fell, fell and hit myself on the ground.
Restin my bones for the loneliness, of being the only genius around.
Im restin my bones for prosperity, in hopes that itll do me some good.
Im restin bones from amphetamines, see they turned teeth to balsa wood.
Im restin bones for johnny cash, cause for me and mine hes wearin black.
Ill be restin my bones for elvis, I seen him last week at the track.
If Im restin bones and you come along, just try and tippy toe on by.
cause when Im restin bones I hope to sleep, and maybe slip away and die.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birthday Present
I was deprived as a small child.
I never had a teddy bear.
When I look back it makes me wild
I really think it was unfair.
I never had a cuddly toy
to keep me company in bed.
Perhaps because I was a boy.
It left me scarred it must be said.
I should have had a furry friend
that I could tell my troubles to.
A pal on whom I could depend
who’d never tell the things he knew.
But now I am deprived no more.
A teddy’s mine at seventy four.
23-Apr-08
http: //blog.myspace.com./poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Questions...
do we ever know for what reason
that the sea which used to be coy and calm
has become violent when it landed
in that island?
do we ever know why it has taken a thousand lives
when it has no use for them?
is it hungry like a man deprived of food
or thirsty like a dog not given water?
does this water, this sea ever feel
the loss of mankind?
or is it just one of them, numb and insensitive
like the mountains
and stones?
does it hear the sobbing of those who are left
in pain and madness?
does it not fear too their capacity for
retaliation or revenge?
the sea and man
what relationship have you really?
friend or foe?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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