tourism ***** ASKEWED FLOATING RESTAURANT
Manila breakwall
concrete warft
there float
askewed restaurant
dined by tycoon guests
swallowing rare delicacies
for my taste bud of imagination
as cuddled by
all season motif waves
of the salt bay
sneakingly at distant i glance
ashame to touch
even the entrance exit stair
feclining upward to
heavenly 3 storeys
gigantic kitchennete vessel
like restaurant
too content to hatch
my delicacy
the 24 days balot pinoy
while settling myself beside
concrete fence
dividing the unwritten gap
between the big timer
C.O.O
Child Of Owner
and the poor poet
rich in dreams
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Related quotes
On To Something More Concrete
i
i check on the word 'grass'
not in the wikipedia
i check that word outside
i step on the lawn where grass is
i sit upon it and lay my head upon its softness
the grass is cool and comforting
early this morning
ii
i like to check on something more concrete
than what the word signifies
the puffiness of the clouds
the blueness of the skies
the coldness of water
the salt of the sea
how the waves travel and arrive at the shore
i lay my body on the sand
open my eyes to the sky and trace the paths that clouds travel by
i swim to the coldness of the sea and taste with my tongue its salt
i touch the waves
i wait upon the shore and let my hours pass away
iii
this is the earth where i live
where i step upon
it is real, it is never fake
it is as concrete as each word signifies
iv
i speak now to You
Let me thank You for all these
I am alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Creep Hymn
The creep
Goes to a restaurant
And order the food to eat at the restaurant
But when the food comes he eats a little bit of the food
Just so he can taste it
And he tells everybody very loud that the food that he order
Taste like shit
And then he takes the plate and throws it on the floor
But he lives the restaurant without pay
The waitress from the restaurant looks everywhere for him in the Restaurant
Sorry waitress he is gone out of the door
And he run away so that you couldn't catch him
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Thru Concrete Windows
Thru concrete windows I see the wind blow
And behold the beauty of nature
It captures my heart with tears
Shatters my dreams with fear
Will I ever get to taste freedom again?
So faith be my guide
Though I'm couped up inside
Because faith is my only friend
Thru concrete windows I see the sun glow
Yet its rays cant find their way in
So I'm left in the shade
A lonesome escapade
Will I ever bask in its warmth again?
Yet its shine makes a smile
That cover many miles
But with time they'll find their way back in
Thru concrete windows I see the clouds float
So peacefully drifting on high
Their hidden language
That don't know anguish
Float together with the wind and pass by
How can I have that humble feeling inside?
poem by Hans Maae Taala
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Ode to Salt
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those
solitudes
when I heard
the voice
of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a
broken
v oice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food.
Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Scratch Off Heaven
The discarded scratch offs
Told of another chance at heaven lost.
One thought - perhaps they were purchased
By a commercial realty tycoon -
This is the way it should work
Those having wealth gaining their 'more.'
No, the tycoon will be on the golf links
Or perhaps even in church seeking his heaven.
Six dollars in scratch offs helping to guarantee
The tycoon will stay rich and buttresing my Mother's wisdom
Heaven is won one hard step forward at a time.
poem by Bill Grace
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Manila This Summer
Here you all come
Manila
The City of
Cardinal Sin
A picture of you
is sent
The sun is behind you
Fading
I know that smell
The air from the sea that carries
the news of
A hundred dead rats
You cross the road
Run! Run!
You are staying in one of those
tiny rooms now
Your favorite greeting is
'Excuse me'
They all think that we all love
shrimps and crabs
Which they all think are the most
expensive delicacies that
we all have to wait for hours
creating the suspense of our
palates
They are all wrong
We are too simple for them
and they are too complicated for us
In such a
way that to maintain this balance
We keep our mouths shut.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Float On
I backed my car into a cop car the other day
Well he just drove off sometimes life's ok
I ran my mouth off a bit too much oh what can i say
Well you just laughed it off it was all ok
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on any way
Well, a fake Jamaican took every last dime with a scam
It was worth it just to learn from sleight-of-hand
Bad news comes don't you worry even when it lands
Good news will work its way to all them plans
We both got fired on the exactly the same day
Well we'll float on good news is on the way
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on ok
And we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Now don't worry we'll all float on
Alright already we'll all float on
Alright don't worry we'll all float on
And we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Aliright don't worry even if things end up a bit to heavy
we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Alright already we'll all float on
Ok don't worry we'll all float on
Even if things get heavy we'll all float on
Alright already we'll all float on
Don't you worry we'll all float on
All float on
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cuddled Up at Night!
vs.1 You would never find me sneakin' out,
'Cause I'd get in trouble, with no doubt.
You couldn't get me to go out too late,
'Cause there's no tellin' about my fate.
All of the above and the following is right,
You could only find me cuddled up at night.
(chorus)
Nobody knows that I seem to find
That you are always on my mind.
When people ask, I simply shake my head,
And wonder if I shoulda said,
That anything I usually say is right,
'Cause we all know I'm cuddled up at night.
vs.2 I would never disagree,
That someone out there is worse than me.
Other than that, I must confide,
Baby, there is nowhere you can hide.
I'm gonna tell you again, I'm right,
You could only find me cuddled up at night.
(chorus)
(piano/sax. solo-instrumental)
Bridge: Ohh, you'd think that I'd be wrong,
But that's not why I'm singin' this song.
Ohh, you'd think that I just might,
But I'mma be cuddlin' up tonight!
(chorus) x 2
Yeahhh, you could only find
Me cuddled up at night!
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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New poem
I was just thinking of white trash things
Eat chicken wings or deep fried dings.
Chittilings or hog jowels
To season your greens.
I am the reason to season your food
Or your chicken may taste like wood.
Never say never to black pepper and salt
What you end up with is not my fault.
Eat at joes is the mistake you make
Soul food will make your booty shake. Pup
Alcan Road
Open the gate to the red land
Alcan road, by the turquoise lake
Starry skies, a mushroom cloud
Folding waves - in a foamy tide
Washing in beds - of opal shells
white gulls cry - for you and I
butterflies - float away
drift over pools - of salt and clay
mountain man - frosted child
eagles cry - puppets of god
strung like time - molded in form
trees bend back - and trails distort
it leads to the land - of Alcan Road
the turquoise lake - and starry skies
mushroom clouds - folding waves
foamy tides - of salt and brine
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This concrete city
infects the sky...turning it
into concrete too.
Concrete sun and concrete rain.
Concrete humans... cry...real tears
tanka by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Temporary Guests
Many believe and perceive,
Their beliefs are to keep...
Durable as if in concrete.
To stay frozen...
And remain intact.
No matter where the times are.
With a progressing to leave,
Nonbelievers in their tracks kept back.
And with unsatisfying results,
Their limited visions are insults...
To those who have run out of patience,
And empathy for those stuck...
In ruts others have given up.
To moved on with an accepting of facts.
Or wish to do so.
Without a feeling of remorse,
To sever the ties from the ones...
Who can not seem to live their lives in stages,
On this Earth.
Or can not divorce themselves from craving,
A taste for an exclusive foreverness...
Selected for a few to feed and greed.
This,
Reality...
That has a beginning which advances to an end,
Many can not accept,
Themselves as temporary guests.
But dictators to infest a manifesting of regression.
So hopeless are those with this mindset.
Seeking with a beating of their own regrets.
So hopeless are those with this mindset.
Seeking with a beating of their own regrets.
And, so hopeless are those with this mindset.
Not understanding they are here as temporary guests.
Seeking with a beating of their own regrets.
So hopeless are those with this mindset.
Seeking with a beating of their own regrets.
And, so hopeless are those with this mindset.
Not understanding they are here as temporary guests.
So hopeless are those with this mindset.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Butter?
No Butter? (when a country practice monopoly)
“Butter, the chef said, I can’t fry a snitzel without butter? If I use margarine
it gets too salty and tastes like whale, if I use olive oil, it gets a Portuguese
flavour, a snitzel is Austrian. How can you fry an egg without using butter,
one loses the taste of clover and rural idyll, farm yards and chickens looking
for worms? ” ” Sorry the restaurant manager said, but we have no butter,
you gotta use margarine and anyway the guests are not chefs they will not
notice the difference.”The chef looked aghast, put down his ladle and said:
“You can’t mean that, has all my work comes to nothing? ” Took off his apron,
had tears in his eyes, ready to walk out into the cold night and not return.
“Hang on the manager said, without you I can’t run this place, it is the caring
way you prepare food that our guests like you they know there is a butter
shortage, but they don’t mind as long as they now you are the chef.”
Mollified the cook took his apron back on lifted his ladle and said, “Ok, but
see if you can get some butter even if you have to buy it from the Danes.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Hidden watcher. For M'; lady Francesca
Hidden watcher.
The salt marsh stretches endlessly
and forms a perfect habitat
Where migrant birds nest in safety
to brood and raise a family.
Few hunters ever venture here,
because they fear the boggy ground
That’s noted for its treachery.
So most prefer to hunt elsewhere.
Bird watchers come the whole year round.
They only shoot with cameras
and they avoid the boggy ground
They know that rare birds can be found.
In the salt marsh beside the sea.
It is a twitcher’s paradise
They record meticulously
each and every bird they see
The salt marsh lies beside the sea.
As it has done since time began.
A panorama of rare beauty
That is changing constantly.
It changes as the seasons change.
I does not stay the same for long.
Nature can and does rearrange
to make the landscape look quite strange.
An eerie place and frightening
when covered by a dense sea fret.
When you can see and hear nothing
above the roar of waves breaking.
There’s nowhere I’d prefer to be
Than esconced in my favourite hide.
To watch the birds in secrecy
I can see them They can’t see me.
Sunday,15 August 2010.
Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Christmas Is A Season...
christmas is a season of the heart,
a time to cherish family and friends;
a time to laugh and hug, or start,
to amplify the joy your prescense sends.
christmas is a season of the heart,
it knows the love that cannot die;
it knows the reasons that we part,
and gladdens, 'tho we know not why.
christmas is a season of the heart,
it shines it's light to all who see;
gifts are heaped upon it's cart,
and we are thrilled, to let it be.
christmas is season full of joy,
with acts of giving at every turn;
a child's eyes shine with it's new toy,
and lessons of love we slowly learn.
christmas is a season of happy sounds,
carols of praise float on the air;
the season of love that knows no bounds,
the season that shows we truly care.
poem by David Lessard
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A few years ago no hotel or restaurant in Boston refused Negro guests; now several hotels, restaurants, and especially confectionary stores, will not serve Negroes, even the best of them.
quote by Ray Stannard Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fallin' In Love
Like the ocean waves,
your strength is wet.
Like the ocean waves,
I drown in your salt.
Like the ocean waves,
your kiss is forever.
Like the ocean waves
I wave back.
poem by Sandee Lovelight
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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To the promiscuous
To the promiscuous
Even though the ocean dries not
In the rain, it’s salt content manageable
Birds come to drink
Soon they fly and run
For dry season introduces more salt
This devalues the ocean
For though it lies there
Its better avoided
poem by Magnus Amudi
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