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Perchance yar juiced a young man or woman
maybe born, bread and raised in the city that never sleeps
and as a loyal son or daughter take a tram
to enjoy a tasty repast with widowed momma,
cuz eve since da papa passed away....
a futile attempt made to fill that void
awash with more'n than half a century of wedded bliss,
whereat purposelessness pervasive
per surviving mother, who feigns happiness, regales others
with showers of affection, and remains active feeding her avocation
comprising striving and succeeding to be adept within the culinary arts
thru self taught trials and errors of brave taste testers
(which guinea pigs ought to get medal of honor for bravery),
though her exemplary cooking reputation exceeds five star Michelin rating
through meticulous and exacting measured ingredients,
she glides within the kitchen
howsoever occasionally, a fork or spoon slips to the floor
which inexplicable gravitational alchemical phenomena
fuses separate piece of cutlery into one eating implement
whereupon a dead reckoning takes shape, that "mum"
might be in mortal danger per inconspicuous cooking tool
whence ya stop SnapChat tin and shutterfly as greased BuzzFeed
twittering like a bat out of hell -
ya swoop down smash mouth facebook first
presaging a fatality viz zit ting upon the head of mum
(her christened name Chris Anne thumb -
the last appended word linked with her diminutive size)
who intently engrossed, keenly self absorbed,
and rapt attentively with tasks at hand
most likely oblivious to potential safety dukes of hazard
as a benevolent offspring temporarily
take instagram reprieve, and utilize fancy footwork
tote hilly tubularly re: turn to counter poise vis a vis match less laws of physics
whereby toe tulle lee tubular kickstarter antics applied
to kindle hurly burly gnarly flatware bach up
adjacent to state of the art beet oven
which upright pedal poised pose like leverage incorporates
quickly donning improvisational
make shift faux cuirass with suitable culinary accoutrements
stringing together various geometrical metal trays and tin pot for helmet
whereby a strategic stance thence established,
where inert stainless steel buff foon glaring spork
would be forced to take tailspin upwards,
whence fingers grab innocuous lethal weapon,
which self entertainment learned while stationed in a rack
run amuck mess hall rowdiness taught said table mannered tricks
magic moment imitating hotmail -
glorified footlocker earthlinked craft,
where whatsapp tinder penned didst
inviting Barrack Obama to zap hiz frankfurter foot,
when he made a syrup prize visit nobly endeavoring without evincing
Auld trump petting donning shoe purr action
trained first with dominant topface toes
alternating with recessive opposing shod totally tubular taps
until fancy footwork became ambipedal
balancing ball of left or right foot atop tine
or dish of fork or spoon respectively
as stray stainless steel ware defying gravity
gracefully leapt - somersaulting in a pirouette pinwheel linkedin arc
tine and/or miniature shovel scooper over handle
kin ur pinion (all things considered) an eye opening experience
and the simple pleasure one can derive from practicing strategy
trigonometry, spatial relations.
How we observe and how we reflect.
The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.
The facades of a perfect home.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.