Eat me
I tend not to believe in what I am told by people who I don’t trust or who tell me what to think.
I try to make logical assumptions based on common sense, deduction, and an exclusion of fear and irrationality.
When I am confronted by contrary points of view and opposite arguments, I try to discern firstly the ‘motive’ of the person saying the things they are espousing.
After all, our belief systems are very near and dear to us and make up the fabric of who we are.
There are many who hang on to such beliefs with a death grip, even when confronted with irrefutable evidence to the contrary. Then the ‘source’ of the evidence comes into question.
I have written on this before as so many progressive forward thinkers have and all I can do is give yet more examples of why I believe the world is, the way the world is.
Purely my opinion.
Probably done before.
The food industry is yet another conglomeration of giant companies who basically control what we eat.
Now, that’s a broad statement because as individuals we are the ones who are ultimately in charge of what we ingest. But what if the choices we have are unacceptable?
Additives, chemicals, hormones and anti-biotics are just a few of the things that we know are in our food supply, what else?
When I get people who can afford to eat ‘healthy’ and be discerning with their choices I also see people who often criticize peoples eating habits like they have a ‘choice’. Most people don’t because of finances and/or poor education of the risks associated with the American diet of sugar, salt and fat.
The trifecta of stuff that makes food taste good.
If you were to look at the major food manufacturers you will see that companies like Pepsico, Coke, Kraft and the ultimate evil Nestle have a stranglehold of what gets put on the shelves.
Along with Monsanto, ConAgra et al it’s a wonder we can still function.
So try wherever possible to not eat food that makes you sick even though its pretty impossible unless you grow or make it yourselves.
-TDB
May 29th, 2015
Ash Sweeper
I'm an amp lit fire
Burning desire
For a word's worth
Looking for similes
Inside bed sheets
I think she likes me
To settle down
Into how great she thinks
I can be
If it were not
For the plot twist
Dodging death
For sin-arios I wrote
I keep Jeckel in hiding
Find and seek
My decency
You are beautiful
Rope around my neck
A poets desire
To decent into hell
Could drop dead for you
But I've never been one
To kick chairs
Out from under me
Call that irony
If it makes the words
Taste better
But I'm about
3 cantos
To the wind
A loose leaf
Is dancing in
Swinging on a vape pen
There's nothing sexier
To a poet than writing
So if I hit the highway
To hell
At least I'll have a trail
Of dead trees
Burning pages
For you to breathe in
And exhale your way back to me
See we are
Pulmonary Rosary
meets pen in poet tree
Gats be lavishly
Brass music
To my years
Of ammo evidence chest
I forgot what feeling sounded like
Until I speak/her
Kiss is language
I butcher on purpose
Flawless acts sense
But I get paper
To wrap my mistakes in
Read it to the loveless
The ones who just
Want a warm feel
Charity in a head case
I need new sleeves
Long enough
To Charlie Brown Christmas Tree
My heart in/
Sane-ctuary
Padded walls
Because I sleep walk
and day dream
of Love
being the only one
to get in between
You and I
If you dress
Like a finger pressed
Against Victoria's lips
I can get a bit obessed
With letting the cat
Out of the bag
Until I'm speechless
Read my taste buds
No
Faked
Orgasms
I have been
Known to perform
Hope in heart surgery
When I'm being as honest
As I can be
Love is an army
Full of friendly fire
And I keep falling in
Burning my desires
If I light her up
It was only because
I can't put down
My sight from her
She speaks hurtz
Amp lit
Fire's keeper
Ash sweeper
-DCR
Speak Easy
Everything about us
Spoke Love
Spoke loud
Without regard
We were oblivious to what makes
Lovers so blind
When everyone else could see
We could only feel
For each other
We become the only ones in the room
While our hearts fill
Up
I've felt so many things in my life, enough to
crush a sense of existence
But I've never experienced this kind of trust,
a bond so tough
that
any test thrown at us
has been naturally surpassed
Etched in a stone cold heart...
More like
the strongest muscle memory
Because
feelings like this make history--
Our method of madness
seems to
Complete each other's sentences
Late night passion
followed with
early morning pecks on shoulders--
all the way down--to the waist line
I've been craving you-
-so I could make you mine-
I want you all to myself
We feel like we were made for
each other
I told you--I would do anything
to
keep you.
You explained that
we complete one another
I will never want another.
Forever seems so distant-
-And I will never stop reaching for you.
-Sunny
Empty Glasses
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses--
waiting for some grandeur deity to fill them up again.
A few sips of red wine to soak that wafer of purity seems
to be the only thing to wipe their souls clean.
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses—
David has last night’s hangover painted on his face,
dark circles mashed between bloodshot eyes and worn cheeks.
He’ll try to mask the alcohol on his breath with Listerine,
but the only germ-killing substance in reach is his bottle of whiskey.
Not impressed with his stained clothes and mismatched sneaks,
his wife, Kate, will wash his button down and his only nice pair of jeans--
Not satisfied with a sign of a wrinkle or crease, she will iron--
as if enough starch and heat will keep her on the ground husband
on his feet—as if, she’s the reason he drinks.
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses--
David’s fingertips tremble from lack of heat,
The warmth in his home evaporated before dropping tiny
tears of memories on his cheeks—they weren’t always this way,
but he’s starting to believe maybe he and Kate weren’t meant to be.
In the beginning, there was no sign of defeat,
their souls were intertwined like grapevines wound tightly around
wooden beams. Ten years ago, they stood in this place and made
promises they truly meant to keep. Miscommunication, lack of
validation—now, every promise is a band aid--words meant as first aid.
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses—
Kate always wears green, she’ll tell you it brings out her eyes
but honestly, it brings out her envy of all those surrounding
her. At least all the others show up with half-full glasses,
but they boast about their ability to keep their souls clean.
After a long week, all Kate is left with is the dream of faith.
Monday brought greed, stealing pennies to buy fake gold earrings,
Tuesday brought lust, some random guy she met at Dairy Queen,
By Thursday, she resorted to idolatry—praying to some human
rendering of the perfect being she wished she could be.
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses--
Kate’s mouse brown hair lazily tapers her red-flushed cheeks.
She tries to be a better wife, but between the lack of money
and loss of affection she struggles to be all that she promised--
She keeps faith in knowing she’s not happy outside their marriage either.
It hurts the most when she finds his adult magazines--
She wonders if her plainness undermines her husband’s standard of beauty,
she wonders, if maybe, he means for her to see these “Young, Blonde Hotties”,
as if he’s given her the key to get back to what they used to be--
but happiness isn’t found in a bottle of bleach.
Every week they walk into this place with empty glasses--
Without any personal mending, David and Kate pop back
the remembrance of faith they never even believed.
For him, it’s just another drink—for her, it’s just another time she’s not seen.
For both, Sunday morning is now a time of self-loathing.
Expecting to change their ways just long enough to feel good about their mistakes,
Waiting for some judge lost in the stars to pour enough faith so they can relate,
Wanting to believe their lives will end with a walk towards those idealized pearly gates.
But every week, they walk out of this place with empty glasses.
-Steph
