The Naked Chef (poem/lyrics)
I'm attempting to be nouveau
and trying to update
all my culinary skills
to the modern way.
I really don't like swearing
but chefs, these days all swear,
I'm trying hard to master it
but I don't really care
for I'm becoming expert
at cooking in the nude
although it can be messy
and it feels a little rude.
Before I use my mixing bowl
I discard skirt and top
stockings slip down easily
and then the rest comes off.
Whipping cream is risky
and makes an awful mess
it flies about all over me
and lands upon my - chest
Of course I take a shower
after every single dish
But I must say that it's worth it
being naked and a chef
Before I use my mixing bowl
I discard skirt and top
stockings slip down easily
and then the rest comes off.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Related quotes
Away The Bowl
Our grateful hearts with temperance burn,
Away, away the bowl,
From dram shops all, our steps we turn,
Away, away the bowl;
Farewell to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the wine-cup's boasted charms,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
See how that staggering drunkard reels!
Away, away the bowl;
Alas, the misery he reveals,
Away, away the bowl;
His children grieve, his wife's in tears!
How sad his once bright home appears!
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
We drink no more, nor buy nor sell,
Away, away the bowl!
The grog-shop's offers we repel,
Away, away the bowl.
United in a temperance band,
We 're joined in heart, we 're joined in hand,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
poem by John Pierpont
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* * *
I hold my skirt, sash untied
and stand before the window with unpainted eyebrows.
Silk clothes fly open so easily.
If my skirt opens, I’ll blame the spring wind!
0258 While the enamel holds
I've just made a passable loaf:
the mixing bowl could almost
be called a Thanksgiving Bowl -
maybe, could start a fashion:
it's made, not of catering-trade steel
which spins nicely on the worktop
nor of plastic, but
of enamel, made about 1929 I guess,
by Kockums of Sweden, size 28 cms
it's clearly stamped -
Kockum's whose proud claim is that
'it lasts a lifetime' - if
you're fortunate enough to be able
to test it thus...
my mother used it to make cakes
- I can hear the scratch of sugar, butter, flour, right now;
sometimes the smell of lemon or vanilla too. And
for her, too, gratitude, I guess,
while she used it, hands and thoughts,
although she could not put it to
the Kockum's test...But the silvery marks
of the fork, or whisk, or careful knife that
left little for me to lick,
disappeared from its strong enamel
and now I use it to make bread
wondering how many of
the current users could verify
to Kockum's management
their proud claim
for it was only late in life that
my mother told me that this bowl
this small 28 cm bowl
was my first baby bath
so as I use it with these mixed emotions
mixed together in this mixing bowl
receptacle of love on love
and thanksgiving
I note with some reflection
that recently, one slight chip
in its circular bowl has appeared
due perhaps to carelessness, not in
the preparing but the washing-up...
and think I'd rather think
(you see - the baby turned out intellectual)
my life were rounded by my failures in my care
than the life of an enamel bowl
however guaranteed
perhaps we'll go together...
dust to dust, flour to flour,
flowers falling to nourish
the seeds of flowers to come
I must remember to ask
my executors to write Kockum's
and confirm their not so often
substantiated claim
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Whippin'
Don't need a helmet got a hard hard head
Don't need a raincoat I'm already wet
Don't need a bandage there's too much...blood...
After a while seems to roll right off...hmm...
Whipping ah...they're whipping ah...
...they're whipping ah...they're whipping...
Don't need a hand there's always arms attached
Oh don't get behind I can't fall back
Why must we trust all these rusted rails?
They don't want no change, we already have
They're whipping, ah...they're whipping, ah...
...they're whipping, ah...they're whipping...
Don't mean to push, but I'm being shoved!
Ohh, I'm just like you, think we've had enough
I can't believe a thing they want us to...oh...
Oh, we all got scars, they should have 'em too...
Oh, they're whipping, ah...they're whipping, ah...
...they're whipping, ah...they're whipping...
They're whipping, ah...they're whipping, ah...
...they're whipping...yeah...they're whipping
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slip Slidin Away
Words & music by paul simon
Slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
I know a man
He came from my home town
He wore his passion for his woman
Like a thorny crown
He said delores
I live in fear
My love for yous so overpowering
Im afraid that I will disappear
Slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Aint got no rain
She said a bad days when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been
Slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
And I know a fa-ther
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things hed done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again
Slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
God only knows
God makes his plan
The informations unavailable
To the mortal man
We work our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe were gliding down the highway
When in fact were slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
Slip slidin away
You know the nearer your destination
The more youre slip slidin away
Mmm...
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Men of Gotham
SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Seamen Three
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Bouyant Madness
Everyday.
That's when I 'update' my thought process.
Everyday...
There is something to add,
To a perception...
Easily outdated,
By the rush of bouyant madness.
Everyday I pray,
'Dear God...
Is it okay if I go into a rage and cuss?
Is it okay if I raise my right eyebrow...
To give my left one a rest?
Is it okay if I should punch someone in the face!
Then beg for Your forgiveness, My Father? '
Everyday...
It seems I am straying further away,
From the ideals of Mother Teresa!
And yes...
It is 'everyday' that I 'update' my thought process.
To add to a perception,
Easily outdated...
By the rush of bouyant madness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Armless Chef
A tribal conflict opened doors
For unexpected tragedy
Fate so cruel ran Her course
And caught Her victims easily.
A lass of mere seventeen
Too young to lose her future
But blind is Violence unseen
And the times ahead unsure.
Intruders came, got her cornered
Her arms raised in defense
Then cries of pain were all they heard
Her arms were cut, it made no sense!
Her loss was partial as her spirit lived
She learned to gain her victory
Healed her life, in Faith believed
So she earned a degree in the Culinary.
An armless chef, what a wonder!
Can she even handle a kitchen knife?
Yet seeing her, shames all whiners
Realizing they have much more in life!
A five star hotel boasts of her skills
Awards and recognitions came her way
Her steadfast Hope, rage could not kill
Her story inspires us to this day.
T his is a true story of a Filipina well known chef and Culinary Arts expert who lost her arms in a tribal conflict, but rose from her tragedy and gained awards and recognition for her excellence in her chosen field. She also forgave her assailants and her action brought about the much needed peace in her village.
Cynthia Buhain Baello
June 23,2012
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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No Time
at present
so busy
no time
time keeps slip
slip slip... sliding away
so busy with work
so busy with myriads
of things needing to be done
a working solo mum
is always on the run
so little time to get all done
not enough time
contained to work in each days sun
to complete so many errands
she must continually run run run to get all done
stop take a breathe
stop take a needful rest
stop take a needful quiet peaceful rest
rest body spirit soul
rest body spirit soul then rise
rise to spread the loving glory of your light
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It's very important to me that people who are actual chefs and other professionals in the culinary world, understand that I'm not, and have never held myself out as being, like a CIA trained chef.
The Christmas Stockings
Children far too young to realize
That some things in life you should prize
We had no jobs and no takings
Bare were the Christmas stockings
Scrounging colourful material
Lace, chintz and chiffon ethereal
Ribbons included in the making
A show for the Christmas stockings
Balls of red and green and scrap yarn
Imaginary faces darn'
On beautiful princess and kings
Displayed in the Christmas stockings
Plywood and some leftover paint
Canopy bed fit for a saint
Pea under mattress, her liking
Endured for the Christmas stockings
A penguin made of black felt
A hobgoblin with a scarlet belt
‘Gold' jewellery box, flaking
Accepted for the Christmas stockings
Coconut ice cut into stars
Liquorice plaited into bars
Brownies and tarts kept me baking
Produced for the Christmas stockings
My daughter was five that year
Son's smiles, laughter brought a tear
After all this time - despite mocking
Treasuring the Christmas stockings
Granddaughters, by the Grace of God
They look like two peas in a pod
Material gathered for the making
Of this year's two Christmas stockings
poem by Suzette Crous
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The Ballad Of Skip Wiley
Hes a man on a mission
Wild as a ricochet
Picture if you can when the everglades ran
From the gulf coast to biscayne bay
Hes gonna give it back to the gators
Lock the tourists up in theme parks and zoos
He says join me for lunch at the reptiles brunch
Where the barometer soup is you
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can shoplift all day at blockbuster
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Spoken:
Thats unthinkable in the state of florida
What would the chamber of commerce say
This man is sick
Eah
There were crimes of epic proportions
All part of skip wileys crusade
Tourists were cackin
And tourists were packin
While he and skink cooled there heels in the shade
Then came the citrus sensation
Welcome to the revolution he said
With a pirates persona
He snatched the gridiron madonna
And the day groovers called for his head
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can rag on the miami dolphins
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No, no you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Spoken:
Well skips caper it kinda backfired
Got the orange juice barons rather upset
In the light of bad moves these manhunts ensued
Skip easily slipped through the net
He was last seen atop of a mangrove
Perched like a wounded osprey
He was not meant to last
He belongs to the past
And I hope he gets there one day
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist (terrorist)
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can shoplift your days at blockbuster
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Thats right
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diddy Ba Bin
wa wa diddy ba
oer the way of kuriga
searched for love
and found a cave
and from above
a pact was made
and there he spent
the rest his days
saying wa wa diddy ba
searched for love and
found a voice
which gave him then
a bowl filled thrice
and everywhere the ba ba went
his bowl was filled
with sticky rice
the years wore on
the days wore thin
and what was left of ba ba bin
was found among the curios
and a bowl filled full
of cheerios
poem by George Murdock
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Some Dreams
Some dreams are as elusive
as the moonbeams through our window;
some are more tangible
so we chase them.
Some dreams are made of gold dust
that can so easily slip through our fingers
when we grasp hold of them.
Some dreams promise no riches
but are richer beyond compare
these are the dreams of the heart
where two become one.
Which poses the question
which dream is for you?
The one filled with gold dust
that can so easily slip through your fingers
or the one that puts a twinkle in your eye
and can last forever.
Which one would you choose?
8 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Goodnight children
I flick off my high heels,
roll down my stockings,
loosen the clip in my hair!
I unzip my skirt,
unbutton my shirt
and leave them
strewn over a chair.
Then I climb into bed
with a hot rugged man
and snuggle up
under the covers.
It isn't a sordid love affair
for the dishy man
is your papa.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Better Than Silver & Gold
Workin' hard every day
Never notice how
the time slips away
People come, seasons go
We got something
that'll never grow old.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.
I used to have a treasure chest
Got so heavy that I had to rest
I let it slip away from me
Didn't need it anyway
so I let it slip away.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.
I don't care
if the sun don't shine
And the rain keeps pouring
down on me and mine
'Cause our kind of love
never seems to get old
It's better than silver and gold.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vindicated
Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine ahead has caught my eye
And roped me in so mesmerizing
It's so hypnotizing
I am captivated
I am
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
So clear
Like the diamond in your ring
Cut to mirror your intention
Oversized and overwhelmed
The shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me so
Isolated so
Motivated I am
Certain now that I am
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
So tired of the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment for forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in
Too deep now to ever swim
Against the current
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip against the current
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
My hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust Bowl
[ music: robert buck/words: natalie merchant ]
I should know to leave them home.
They follow me through the store with these toys I cant afford.
Kids, take them back, you know better than that.
Dolls that talk, astronauts, t.v. games, airplanes, they dont understand and how can I explain?
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
My youngest girl has bad fever, sure.
All night with alcohol to cool and rub her down.
Ruby, Im tired, try and get some sleep.
Im adding doctors fees to remedies with the cost of three days work lost.
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
The hole in my pocketbook is growing.
Theres a new wind blowing they say, its gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves my darlings, it wont bring anything much our way but more dust bowl days.
I played a card in this weeks game.
Took the first and the last letters in three of their names.
This lotterys been building up for weeks.
I could be lucky me with the five million prize, tears of disbelief spilling out of my eyes.
I try and try but I cant save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
Ive tried and tried but I cant save.
The hole in my pocketbook is growing.
Theres a new wind blowing they say, its gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves my darlings, it wont bring anything much our way but more dust bowl days.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Easily Humans Settle In Their Own Despair
How easily humans settle in their own despair,
It's far less work not having to care
For anyone but ourselves.
Like forgotten books on high dusty shelves,
Nothing gets taken from inside.
Within our cloudy minds we hide,
From those who suffer.
As a child clings selfishly onto its mother,
Its only thought is itself.
A bath is more comfortable when used alone,
And so nothing nor no-one is invited into our home.
Life is fragile,
And although we carefully pack and place,
One slip and everything is exposed to space.
How easily humans settle in their own despair,
It's far less dangerous not having to care.
poem by Not Long Left
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