Sunday, June 26, 2011

White Meat or Dark?


Who are those horn-dogs hitting on you?
Imagine their arms done up in a stew!
Carve up their legs, or slice up some breast,
Singe off the hair from the hairy guy's chest!

What would you like? White meat or dark?
It's all very tasty, so long as it don't bark.
That hairdresser at work, she's seems very tenda’
I'm sure she has a thigh she'd gladly lend ya!

As far as my diet, do I give a shit?
I eat everything, every last little bit!
It all comes to me. . . sooner or later,
From the hair on your head . . to a distant alligator.
Even the planets I'll swallow like peas,
Hardly a speck, amidst galaxies.

I'll roast your enemies, I'll baste them with gravy
And if they speak Japanese I’ll pour on some baby!
We'll eat them all, both foreigners and Yanks.
Let’s break out the cranberry, let's all give our thanks!
A happy table to set, in these most trying times,
We'll all eat very well, if we forgive a few crimes.




MENU THANKSGIVING, 2006

Entrée:
Mediterranean Olives of Various Colors and Flavors in their own oil
Potato and Pea Samosas with Tamarind

Les Plats Principal:
Brine Roasted American Turkey with Sea Salt, Sugar Carrots Leeks Celery Juniper Berries, and Fennel

Tangy Cranberry Sauce with Orange Peel
Wild Rice with Chestnuts and Dates
Butternut Squash Ravioli with Orange Fennel Sauce
Parsnip Puree with Hazelnuts
Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cinnamon
Crisp Roasted Golden Potatoes with Native Sage
Verdent Off Season Green Asparagus with Adirondack Pine Nuts
Roasted Portobello Mushrooms with Oak Forest Truffles
Green Salad with Honey Glazed Walnuts

Desert:
BBP's Warm Chocolate Tart Creation
Key West Rum Cake
Rustic Apple Tart
Georgia Pecan Pie with Ice Cream 
New England Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Cream

Apres:
Café American, Cafe Mexicano
Thé, Black or Green

Our Race



We're from a race that learned to fly,
But made no space for poetry.
A tribal kin who spoke in curses,
Lost its zen without notes or verses.

Such Pearls

      

As my pearls flow on your skin,
    Your sculpted figure loves to sin.
Hips so dearly made to love,
    Lips so clearly shaped above.
Your eyes as soft as blue turquoise . . .
   Were clearly made to torture boys.

Monsoon


The daughters of Bihar often take pains,
To plow fields naked, before the monsoon rains.
God showered raindrops, to cover these girls.
So custom works, in the rainy Bihari world.
And when the rain drops do finally fall,
Biharis get naked, daughters most of all.


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