Tag Archives: food

Café & Concerto

I need you like the flower needs the rain
You know I need you, guess I’ll start it all again
You know I need you like the winter needs the spring
You know I need you, I need you…

~*~

overwhelming—

the crashing tidal waves

of concerto and palatable

patisserie tastes alike

strummed electric strings

intertwining with bitter

yet dainty chocolate rumble

rough vocals like rough sketches

of rembrandt’s lost art

interlacing and intertwining

in rosaceous thorns like earrings

around my wilting lungs

and caramel macchiato sips

dripping on cherry ink.

beatbox, wind chime, cymbal

symphonies and deep bass

thrumming withing the pulse

of my heart’s sanctity

like the tick of woodblocks

guitars twanging, reverberating

in ceramic sugar jars and

lilliputian silver spoons

placed aesthetically in tables

of a checkered cloth blue

siting under ruby rotund lamps

and incandescent fairy lights

the spill of fountains and tree roots

mellowing down tired eyes that

even the most glaring of

tiny glowing screens cannot

disrupt nor ever distract—

as their helter-skelter classics

bring me back to the past

among decades and centuries

of the good olden days

sixties, seventies, eighties

losing to rustic country music

losing track of time

losing sense to the rhythms

losing languorous repasts

losing myself and finding out…

until my drink is lukewarm.

and the sanctuary of the audience

humming, clapping, cheering

in pleasant pleasantries

sweet teeth stuck in a smile

effete tastes and composition turns

crashing and colliding,

disorienting and dizzying,

blinking and blocking;

until the beat of my halcyon heart

is chiseled to the atmosphere

of that whimsical place

and i feel like i completely belong…

overwhelmed.

~*~

And every day, I’d laugh the hours away
Just knowing you were thinking of me
And then it came that I was put to blame
For every story told about me, about me…

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3 a.m. cake and day-old coffee

I can’t afford the kind of love you sell
But I can’t afford to ever watch you leave
Won’t you come and put your sugar on my tongue
You’ve got your spell on me…

~*~

i would pretend

that it’s to mask

the bitterness

and overpower

it with even more

bitter grounds,

or to dislodge

the hard lumps

forming in my

drying throat,

but i’m not that

deluded or fucking

melodramatic—

or maybe i am.

the cloudy creams

of ivory frosting

melts with a touch

of tawny coffee,

perspectivism

and disillusions

blending madly

as i sit there,

stuffing my rictus

with pastries in

the darkness, like

a total gluttonous

shameless piece

of poison pie.

i am disgusting;

but i’m merely

enjoying crumbs

and leftovers of

my ant-eaten sanity,

trying to kill time

and soured anxiety

with decadent sugar

and innocent tongues,

all while attempting

to ignore the fact

that the immense

sweetness makes me

want to throw up.

and i indulge in the last

few poignant pieces

of a humbled life,

before this cold cake

and day-old coffee

becomes my final meal.

~*~

I’m the only one who knows
The secret places that the light don’t show
(The light don’t show) You know…

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food poisoning

the very

taste of

you is

giving me

ptomaine.

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loss of appetite

thanks

so much for

having the amazing

ability to kill my appetite

it’s really helping

out with my

diet.

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Konpeitō

Crystalline sugar

Of neon shades

Clashing distinct

Catching eyes

And tongues;

Baby carnation,

Firmament blue,

Chartreuse green,

Starrified yellow,

Diamond white.

Childish treats

For childish hearts

Rainbow pebbles

On cute display

Within small

Quaint bottles,

A sugar kiss

From a pixie

And her friend

The belle fairy.

As you crush

Them betwixt

Your teeth;

Implosions of

Sweetness and

Shocking mint

Dances like a

Fireworks display

In your mouth—

A magical aftertaste.

image

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Tissue Sketches #3: café chicago

Chicago skylines twirl, a scintillating maid

A distant glow which never seems to fade

Indulge in tastes of saccharine decadence

Flavours myriad dancing, still quite intense

Nocturnal owls hum as the clock strikes eleven

For a whimsical soul, this quaint place is heaven.

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Listless Leisures

Rustic old town

Hazelnut coffee

Silk cream gown

Riffle decadently

Pen in one hand

Of tremulous red

Way on the stand

Singing about end

Orange and ginger

On bavarian cream

Summer night stirs

In hazy daydreams.

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Holidays in the Rain

There’s no place I’d rather be
Don’t give me nothing in between
Just give me sundrops in my eye
And let the rainshine light the sky…

~*~

Peering past the demesne of billowy diaphanous houndstooth curtains

Where the afternoon downpour beat reverent against the windowpanes

By the hearth, turning frailest pages of yellowing erudite equivocations

Zephyr effervescent, teasing in its conflating felicitous emancipations

.

Lone reverie with fraternal cassette tapes and a lazy 1975 vinyl record

Warm blueberry cheesecake confections, chocolate silk finely brewed

Conjuring evocative altruism, an ephemeral elision of whispered words

Incipiency of sumptuous inglenook, far better than any seraglio imbued

.

The lachrymose welkin conciliates, offing woebegone yet not inured

Adumbrate halcyon, eponymous to predilections of pluvial cynosure

I’m soothed by tranquility, satin soft singing lullaby of the rain glazed

Vestigial gossamer perfection of a perpetually fugacious summer day.

~*~

But if you don’t go out at all
You’ll never feel the rain…fall
Out in the rain, out in the sun
Out in the rain, out in the sunshine…

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Dinner is Served!

Watch your mouth, oh, oh, oh
Because your speech is slurred enough
That you just might swallow your tongue
I’m sure you’d want, want to give up the ghost
With just a little more poise than that…

~*~

A high table set for two

Small talk held by glue

Out comes the waiters

Bon apetit! Here’s supper

.

Veins popping in vanity

Pustules snap insanity

Optic nerves on my tea

Mouth tastes of saline IV

.

Your rancid sick words

Shoved down my throat

Falling fast, broiled cold

Pulsating tongues bloat

.

You would not sugarcoat

Though relentlessly gloat

My orifice dripping honey

Disgusting, sticky, runny

.

Now swallow your pride

An hors d’oeuvre to slide

Pushpins and rusty tacks

For appetisers and snacks

.

Gourmandise on your desire

Dreams roast on an open fire

Slime oozing from a cauldron

Seltzer fizzling, peptic solution

.

I’m salivating thickest ink

Blood rich on hungry lips

Coiled intestines unlinked

Lead taken in dainty sips

.

A heap, hell, shred of trust

Is all I ever asked, deserve

But you spat out more rust

And feed me more dessert

.

You force down fatty lies

And doses of pink poison

Plucked wings of dead flies

Acidic brew of pure emotion

.

I understand and I endure

Try to find medicinal cure

But despite meals so many

I’m still wasting away slowly

.

I’m sick of disgusting dinners

I’d rather starve than break fast

Like the last meal of a sinner

Lost in hunger and stones cast

.

Your dark overcooked words

Just taste severely bitter now

And your false presentations

Won’t appeal to me somehow

.

A taste of your own brand of medicine

Right now, is what I’m highly craving

When my blood’s already boiling over

Into scalding burns you won’t recover

.

And when you choke on that black bile taste

Regurgitating fast that acrid foamy white paste

Well, don’t you throw it up back to me, crying

Because dear, it’s just rude, and highly unappetising.

~*~

Or was it God who chokes
In these situations, running late?
No, no, he called in
Prescribed pills, to offset the shakes
To offset the pills
You know you should take it a day at a time…

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Café Au Lait

The light shiver you send down my spine

With my every dainty sip

The gradual warmth that percolates on mine

Along my resting soul it nips

~*~

Like tasting a drop of the midnight skies

Stirred with the soft smoke of the milky way

Sugar stars attract taste buds as it veers and flies

Brewed umber potion constitutes my day

~*~

The elements colliding into perfection and quintessence

Sucking me into a black hole of sweetness and indulgence

But I still like that little bitter aftertaste left on my tongue

Like the farewell kiss of a dark angel, as it sings its last dulcet song.

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