LPiA-22 Nov. 11
#1
Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 11


Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for the month of November. 

Topic : Write a poem inspired by a recipe, a favorite meal, or a secret indulgence.
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more
Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?
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#2
Cream cheese filled crumb coffee cake
filled my stomach by boxes
Entenmanns specifically
My record was 3 boxes
in one sitting, then shipping
outside the state stopped.  Boxes
Became thirty dollars through
Amazon.  Now it's cancelled completely.  Zero boxes.
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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#3
Soup a la Guillotine

Ingredients:
1/2 cup sexual attraction, chopped fine
1 cup distraction
1  cup atheism
4 cups autumn
1 tablespoon misgivings
1/2 teaspoon insect indifference
pinch of spleen

Sauté sexual attraction until soft
add distraction, atheism and autumn
let stand until machine of night releases dawn
add insect indifference and spleen
cook for 3 hours over a frostbitten fire
stir occasionally without remorse

Serve with a side of unleavened nostalgia
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#4
(11-11-2022, 11:25 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  Soup a la Guillotine

HA ! Great recipe Tim!

Recipe for Life

1. shop for food
2. cook the food
3. repeat over ten thousand times
4. try to come up with new ideas
5. don’t screw up the timing
6. don’t yell “it’s ready”
7. don’t ask why people don’t rinse dishes
8. don’t bitch (if possible)
9. rinse and wash dishes
10. put them away
11. repeat until dead
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#5
Chili shrine
Chili crest
Chili effigy
Chili sacrifice
Chili touch
Chili repentance
Chili rebirth
Chili
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#6
Hell’s Fritters


It’s no secret that fried clams
(mussels and scallops, too)
make me deathly ill–
that’s in all my records,
fifteen minutes later up they come.

Oddly enough, no prob
with oysters or clam chowder
(even nasty red Manhattan).

My secret is that
I still love them with
an Epicurean passion which insists
I try some just to see
if perhaps this time, this sauce, this recipe...

Urp... Nope.

Odder yet, fried calamari
taste just the same
without upchurning sequelae
leading to cross-sectioning
of countless innocent octopi

for the sneaking addled appetite
they slake by substitution
remains.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
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#7
Good Times


For a good time, play Don't Make Me Wait,
Get Down Tonight, Car Wash, Ring My Bell,
Star Love, maybe some Sylvester,
definitely Donna Summer---oh, don't forget your Chic,
Last Night a DJ Saved My Life, for some rap Must Be the Music,
and top it all off with The Trammps' Disco Inferno.
The ur-fascists may have won with their Demolition Night,
but, like Gloria Gaynor sang it, all us blacks and fags survived.
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