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Cafe Poems |
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| Ric Orlando New Cafe Poems, 2005 |
| Soup |
| Try the soup. |
| No? |
| Nobody eats soup anymore. |
| Why eat soup when we could eat |
| EVERYTHING. |
| Let's hope we never have to go back to the days |
| when we ate soup. |
| Incomplete |
| Not finishing dessert |
| (by choice) |
| is like not finishing Sex. |
| (by choice) |
| Some day there will be a day |
| When Drasler's hats will be filled |
| With one thought: |
| If I only had a nice piece |
| of pie. |
| Waiting Room |
| It is in print so it must be true: |
| We have more food than a Medieval Feast. |
| We have more ideas than during the Age of Enlightenment. |
| We have more drama than Ancient Greece. |
| We have more intrigue than Caesar's Rome. |
| We have more art than Demedici's Florence. |
| We have more misery than Dante's Inferno. |
| In this time and place, |
| what makes us so lucky? |
| Out to dinner |
| They didn't smile when they were greeted. |
| They didn't speak while they where eating |
| They didn't groan while they were screwing |
| but during their sleep, |
| They wailed and laughed as they dreamed |
| of happiness |
| elsewhere. |
| Narcissism and Amnesia |
| NEXT TIME WILL BE THE LAST TIME! |
| Seems clear enough. |
| But junkies are hooked suckers |
| and dreams |
| like hearts and cities |
| are |
| busted eggs. |
| Under orange fire skies |
| we admire our Sphinxes |
| like kings that are now dust. |
| Not good enough |
| She sent back the king salmon because it was |
| too cooked for her liking. |
| It was good, but not good enough. |
| She didn't want it anymore, |
| appetite gone. |
| Throw it away, |
| I'll pay for it, I don't care, said the man |
| in the white hat. |
| Does Feluja smell like overcooked salmon? |
| Expired |
| Summer is extinct on planet earth. |
| Thoughts |
| like fat fruit |
| mold in the ashbuckets of hope. |
| A pinhole of a heartleak drips the blood of sanity. |
| Barrages of papaya shaped police ideas |
| roll undodged. |
| This House is a dangerous place to be. |
| Elixirs of success stew in long tall cauldrons |
| all over the prune souled planet. |
| The mud of reason clogs to many throats. |
| Remember playing army with gutless consequences? |
| Tell your children. |
| (enclosed is a picture of a horse) |
| The most important thing I learned from my visit to America |
| is that anything is possible (hence, your president). |
| When I was there I did anything and everything. |
| I would have none of that fun here at home. |
| But I would never give up my village's foul streets, |
| bickering morons, cesspools or holey shoes. |
| Damn the workers and damn the bosses. |
| Burn down that old school, boys. |
| Fill the foundation with dung, great ideas or useless riots. |
| Take a trip to Eldorado or Babylon. |
| Read every book ever printed |
| or linger for hours in the finest dining room. |
| The poor farmer became Prime minister here, |
| the Prince contacted aids over there |
| and the coffee is rotting on the bush |
| because the lines have to sentineled. |
| Yes, the most important thing I learned on a holiday is that anything is possible. |
| Yours Truly, |
| PS: Please forward the picture postcard to Mrs. Dempsey |
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