Food, Sex, & Ewe
Id rather have a bottle in front of me
Id rather watch 10 hours of t.v.
But since I cant Ill think of food
Ill think of sex
Ill think of music
And Ill think of you
Id rather have a cold one by the sea
Id rather have you sitting on top ome
But since Im here and youre so far away
Ill read about zaphod beeblebrox
As I pass the day, hey
Id rather not spend my whole night driving
Id rather not be on so much caffeine
But since youre in bed and Im sleeping
On some floor
Ill think of you and Ill wish that I was home
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Golden Fish
Golden colour
fishes...
Flying on the
Bigest gloub
Morden glass
Bottle...
In side the water
Fishes wa flying
Smothely...
Fevarate some food
Also given the fishes...
For my home;
Fish as also catch
And eat the food
Slowly with nice...
I was enjoy it...
But;
Fishes was try to
Come out of the glass bottle....
Why? ? ?
The fishes want to swime
And live some were...
Not or the beautfull bottle....! ! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bottle
Life long bottle partner
Feeding bottle at childhood
To Ganga jal(Holy water of river Ganga)
Bottle at deathbed
Water bottle at schooldays
Cold drinks bottles
And liquor bottles at adulthood
And blood bottles at hospital bed.
Lifelong bottle partner
Lifelong bottle partner
Our life our soul is in a bottle
This body is bottle
And it is life partner.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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You Left Me A Song
Out of the glitter and the shine
Out of the corner of my eye
Saw you walking I freeze the frame
My lucky game
We could've been strangers if we tried
Move to the rhythm side by side
Maybe a glance across the room
Blue moon
Why did the hours burn so long
Sunset and shadows cold
I hear the music playing now
I know you're gone
But you
You left me a song
Under the skylight after dark
Cripping to find you, what a luck
We were like children stripping down
The joy we found
But even the lights that turn me on
Make it so hard to see beyond
Make it a rainbow in my mind
This ???
Why did the hours burn so long
Sunset and shadows cold
I hear the music playing now
I know you're gone
But you
You left me a song
Huh you left me
Huh huh you left me
A song
Why did the hours burn so long
Sunset and shadows cold
I hear the music playing now
I know you're gone
But you
You left me a song
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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All i got to my name.
All I got to my name,
Is my music
It's all i ever am
and all i will be
you can't take it away
it's all i got to my name
My music is my life
my music is my love
my music is my fire on a cold day
my music is my castle where i stay all the day
my music is home
where i feel safe
It's all I got to my name
don't you dare take it away
it's what makes me me and not you
My music is my best friend
my music is my nae
it's all I own that matters to me
My music is all i got to my name
no family
no friends
all i need is my music
I need nothing but my music
it's what I do all the day
all I can say
My music My music
all i got to my name...
poem by Alice Lion
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Cold Beer, Women and Music
I like cold beer on a hot day
I like hot women on a cold day
I like music on a hot or cold day
I like to have cold beer in my pad
I like to have my women scantily clad
I like to have my music not bad
I like my cold beer enshrouded
I like my women endowed
I like my music loud
I like my cold beer in my right hand
I like my women tanned
I like my music close at hand
I like cold beer to unwind
I like women to dine
I like music to remind
I like cold beer with women
I like women with cold beer
I like cold beer and women with music
poem by Bill Kamen
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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
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A bottle of snow
The sky was grey
the ground was damp
all was cold
and on the grass
laid a bottle of snow
A thick brown sweeter
a thin leather glove
a pair of warm mittens
and a bottle of snow
I sat by the fireplace
a cup of chocolate beside me
and on the floor
laid a bottle of snow
The sky turned blue
the ground sprouted green
warmth was back
and in my hand
was a bottle of snow
poem by Renee Thirteen
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The Sound Of Grecian Music
The sound of Grecian music where the Greek diners eat
From the Athenian restaurant it floats across the street
And a beautiful Greek songstress with the music sings along
One could listen to the music and the singer all night long.
Greek music and Greek poetry is in a class of it's own
And the legends of Greek history by history not outgrown
And there is life in Greek music it has a bubbling sound
It makes you want to shake your feet and to it dance around.
And when the diners have drunk and eaten the dining tables are put away
And the dancers will be dancing till the small hours of the new day
They sing as they dance in a Greek ring around the timbered floor
And enjoy themselves as the Greeks do for three hours or even more.
The marvellous sound of Grecian music from the Athenian restaurant nearby
Is food to the soul and senses and something to enjoy
To the quiet street on a friday night such happiness they bring
Till the small hours of the morning they laugh and dance and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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An Epitaph for MJ
The world has lost a king.
Music is in chaos; it bewails his loss,
The one whose life was music.
All danced to his tune;
Now he lies low,
6 feet down,
Waiting for His Grace.
We pray for him,
The one whose music was prayer,
'Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race'.
Let us pray in unison for this great soul
Whose food was music
And music alone...
'If music be the food of love, play on....'
No music reigned above him,
But it sprang from his soul,
Whose spirit was music.
The charm of music lies within,
And from therein comes his voice.
He reigned like a fresh bloom
In the garden of music.
But now...
He’s gone from earth,
But not from our hearts...
He stays behind,
For coming generations...
There’s no end for MJ...
poem by Hajara Abdul Khader
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Watching That Man
Shakey threw a party that lasted all night
Everybody drank a lot of something nice
There was an old fashioned band of married men
Looking up to me for encouragement - it was so-so
The ladies looked bad but the music was sad
No one took their eyes off lorraine
She shimmered and she strolled like a chicago moll
Her feathers looked better and better - it was so-so
Yeah! it was time to unfreeze
When the reverend alabaster danced on his knees
Slam! so it wasnt a game
Cracking all the mirrors in shame
Watch that man! oh honey, watch that man
Well he talks like a jerk but he could eat you with a fork and spoon
Watch that man! oh honey, watch that man
Well he walks like a jerk
But hes only taking care of the room
Must be in tune
A benny goodman fan painted holes in his hands
So shakey hung him up to dry
The pundits were joking the manholes were smoking
And every bottle battled with the reason why
The girl on the phone wouldnt leave me alone
A throw back from someones lp
A lemon in a bag played the tiger rag
And the bodies on the screen stopped bleeding
Yeah! I was shaking like a leaf
For I couldnt understand the conversation
Yeah! I ran to the street, looking for information
Watch that man! oh honey, watch that man
He talks like a jerk but he could eat you with a fork and spoon
Watch that man! oh honey, watch that man
He walks like a jerk
But hes only taking care of the room
Must be in tune
Watch that man
Watch that man
Oh ah oh
Watch that man
Oh oh oh
Watch that man
Oooh ooh
Watch that man
Oh (watch that man)
(watch that man)
(watch that man)
(watch that man)
(watch that man) oh oh
(watch that man)
(watch that man)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Waste Food
Hundreds and thousands have toiled under the scorching sun of summer,
to grow the food which so comfortably we eat.
think of food as the fruit of labor of thousands of hours,
rather than just rice and wheat.
millions die due to lack of food, so is their fate,
but we are lucky to have every time enough in our plate.
we may never go to the fields to produce the food,
but my friend 'food saved is food produced'.
so lets take a vow today to put in our plate only that much which we can eat,
so that even a single single grain may not go waste.
poem by Sunny Mittal
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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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The Cravin' Raven
The raven searches for food to consume.
He flies high and low,
Yet none does he find.
He thinks this is not a very good sign.
Soon, food at last, and this the meatless kind.
He has watched from afar and knows
This food is left each day on the step;
Not in the garden for humans to grow.
Swooping down to inspect this food
The milkman is gone making this a stop.
This is a treat beyond compare.
Everyday, the man makes a drop.
The raven pecks, inspects, and thinks
“The bottle is hard; my beak must not break.”
Maybe here, there, the search goes on!
Frustration and turmoil is all this creates!
More pecking he does, more frustrated he is;
This insaneness makes a bird lose his mind.
“There has to be a way.
What must I do to reach the food that is inside? ”
He pecks all around and discovers the top
The lid on the bottle is paper-like thin.
His beak will go through this fine cover,
And the treasure inside he definitely wins.
Each day he returns with knife, fork and spoon.
Taking part in this feast, a rare delicacy.
“No more searching for food must I do,
Now I can drink to fill my small belly.”
Generously, he invites friends to the feast
They will enjoy this food he is savin’.
I must not be a pig and eat all for myself.
I’ll invite friends to savor this food I’m cravin.’
The man of the house becomes aware of his loss
Loudly proclaiming no more food, and all-out war
To quote a phrase from the poet, Edgar Alan Poe
Nevermore……..Nevermore……….Nevermore!
poem by Diane Wright
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Radio Ga Ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah blah
Radio - what's new
Radio - someone still loves you
1984 - a long time ago
When I heard it first time on the radio
Radio ga ga was the name of that song
Now I'm back with the track and I feel so strong
1996 - the remix is done
First time ever since the story begun
One of my favorites in the music scene
Here is the voice, the voice of Queen
I'd sit alone and watch your light
My only friend through teenage nights
And everything I had to know I heard it on my radio
So don't become some background noise
A backdrop for the girls and boys
Who just don't know or just don't care
And just complain when you're not there
You had your time, you had the power
You've yet to have your finest hour
Radio
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo Radio ga ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah blah
Radio - what's new
Radio - someone still loves you
If you want to listen to the music of today
Turn on the radio and let it play
Play it loud without no doubt
Queen and BoBo is what I'm talking all about
About a beat that spins you around
Get up stand up move to the sound
With the rhythm and the rhymes let the music flow
Everybody everywhere listen to the radio
We watch the the shows - we watch the stars
On videos for hours and hours
We hardly need to use our ears
How music changes through the years.
Let's hope you never leave old friend
Like all good things on you we depend
So stick around cause we might miss you
When we grow tired of all this visual
You had your time - you had the power
You've yet to have your finest hour
Radio
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am severely distracted these days. It's hard to sit in front of the computer, uploading bad music for hours, when you have a wonderful boyfriend who treats you like a Goddess.
quote by April Winchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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7 Hours
Today's a sunny day
And there's a lot of time to go with it
For me
I want to celebrate and have fun for 7 hours
So ladies and gentlemen
Make the food
Fill up the drinks
It's going to be a fun 7 hours
I'll bring my poems
Maybe my photos
Perhaps even show the ladies a dance I know
7 hours
And the time is ours
Full of nice memories
Full of good times
Full of new friendships
Full of whatever we want to make of it
These 7 hours
These 7 hours of perhaps stress free and
drama free
These 7 hours to be what we want it to be
poem by Justin Gildow
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