Seeker
Things I miss, I do not find.
Things I find, I eat—
an essential tragedy—
and in eating, lose.
Things I take, I talk to, late
in my unquiet bed.
Gedichten over het onderwerp: food
Gedichten over het onderwerp “food” op Poets.by.
Soul Food
I eat a dish of mackerel
and a cold heart.
My heart supped with us
and told us to take
three shares apiece,
which was very good.
Proverbial (12)
Where we keep time,
we are not ready.
Where we love, we exceed,
we eat…
Deprivation addict
Look upon
these hips fit
for a board
and eat.
Unwilling flesh,
breast of necessity—
being ill for
want of it
I fear a clear life,
pray it may
not tempt me
to eat not.
food
I'm not hungry
Overeating is bad and I know it.
So I don't eat more than I need.
I know that it's unecessary.
I don't need it, I'm fine.
I can live without it.
This Food is torturing.
I'm hungry. I can't stop it.
I want it, I need it, I must have it.
I want all of it.
Can't stop those overwhelming flavors.
I need more to live.
I eat until I become mad.
Again and again,
even if it's bad, even if it's poisoned.
I eat again and again and again and again
Revolting
i found a plate of leftover fideo in the fridge
and my stomach grumbled hungrily.
when i asked though and learned that you made it,
i put it back.
just the thought of touching what's yours made me want to
bathe in a pool of bleach.
I'M FINE
IM FINE
Im not fine. Please help me
IM JUST TIRED
I cant take this anymore
I ALREADY ATE
I starve myself
GO AWAY
show me you care enough to stay
IM JUST COLD
I dont want you to see my scars
IM BETTER, I PROMISE
Ive never been this bad
IM OKAY
I just want to die.
Career
Eating disorder
Binging on the crumbs of my
own insanity
Refrigerator
door is closed for now but I
peep in for comfort
Loneliness is my
best friend beside the
loaf of disappointed fear
Never thought that I
would make a career out of
Losing weight again
Remembering I
have a solution beyond
the thinness of my own soul
Picking up a bite
My Own Bully.
They warn us of bullies.
Saying never be one.
Don't hurt someone else.
For your own petty reasons.
But what about ourselves?
Why don’t they warn us,
warn us of the damage we can do.
The damage to ourselves.
Beating myself up over dumb things I do.
The scars are proof.
Of the bully inside.
Does she tell me the truth?
Am I really that fat?
Am I really that ugly?
Stop eating!
Stop feeling!
Drive In
Shapes of times quaver and mutually reflect,
lightening the transcenium
with sparks of gay and minuscule emphasis.
The lone hitch-hiker stands out and plucks up a number
everyone knows, and collides in the atmosphere
about him. Unstaggered but still moving,
his generator throbs one, two more times.
He's a perfect replication of the primal source,
more potent and triangular than the campus
that betrayed him and on which he was based.
I try to indulge every passion, even that,
half-guilty and overwhelming, for a fat
hamburger, onions and a shake. Meanwhile
the restaurant gleams and dips out of view.
I ask you for it to go, please, and you look
like someone fearful of infection, as though
Guacamole
they usually fry flat
these things aren't alive they're tortillas
I wonder that they will come
do I hear them
anytime after four
look I'm cooking all these leaves for nothing
bends because there's still some moisture inside it
they must have went home
look at that floor
well I'm ready
no development from mess call
all yes a quiet evening at home
you and your friend there what's her name
some time in the early evening means
they never intended to come for dinner
joined that one
Sensations (poatry by me!)
Waffles with golden syrup
Sweetness in the air
Rising above all else
The saltiness of butter
On my tongue
Joy as I bite into
sticky
sweet
sickly
syrup
Heaven