Posts Tagged ‘work’

See how the darkness overtakes the light

See how the darkness overtakes the light,
A blanket shadowing these balls of dough,
They rise, arise again to higher height.

Some men see plain as all that’s pure and bright,
And when an onion drags this taste too low,
See how the darkness overtakes the light.

The skillful baker does not feel such fright,
And adding flavor helps his crowds to grow,
They rise, arise again to higher height.

He forms his seamless rings all through the night,
Too rapt to ever through his lone window
See how the darkness overtakes the light.

At dawn he sets his ovens to ignite,
His spirits climbing with the fire’s glow,
They rise, arise again to higher height.

But tired hands turn dials far too tight,
Hot flames upon pale crusts do death bestow;
See how the darkness overtakes the light,
They rise, arise again to higher height.


06 2009

the grind

working weeks are long and drab
they seem to never end
you run in circles five days straight
then monday start again

try as you might to spice things up
they stay so very plain
you rise, you eat, you work, you sleep
then do it all again

though weekends mean to be more fun
the job’s taken a toll
too tired to raise a toast all night
you crawl back to your hole

and buried with the bulbs dimmed low
mere sleep becomes your goal
’til monday’s work awakens
in your heart a gaping hole


06 2009

row 32

tiny stewardess
slinking down the aisle
active little hands
serving snack after snack after snack

you smile, share a laugh
shuffle through your shelves
so long at each row!
so many more to go
if you’re out
of onion bagels
when you reach my seat
i’m bringing down this goddamned airplane
so help me jesus

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04 2009

“Cream Cheese” Clarence, The Onion Bagel Pimp

Where’s my money, Bagel?
Gotta’ sell dat honey, Bagel
Better get my money, Bagel
Yo this ain’t funny, Bagel
Go’n ‘n make my money, Bagel
Or else my disposition is apt to become somewhat less than sunny, Bagel

Where’s my money, Bagel?

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04 2009

spring cleaning

you find
a bagel

you are
the couch cushions

do not
shed a tear

if it
is onion,
shed several.

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03 2009

Working in the Toast Mine

My onion bagel
worked overtime this morning

It gets
cream cheese and a half for it

But it always
makes it totally burned out

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03 2009

The Beginning

Ring that bagel ’round the moon!
Sprinkle the stars with onions!
Cut the comets with butter knives, and
Smother the cosmos in cream cheese!
Plug your toasters into the sun
And dial them up to Darkest!
We’ve got a world of work to do
So we really mustn’t skip breakfast!

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02 2009

Digging a Tunnel

I’m digging a tunnel
From my heart to yours
To carve out this pathway
I’m fighting on all fours

Reminds me of digging
That I did once before
Through an onion bagel
Inside the grocery store

I tore out one section
Just to get it started
Then dug with my finger
Until the insides parted

Before long I had a
Hollow bagel in my cart
Too bad it’s much tougher
For me to win your heart

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02 2009

Praise Song for the Bagel, A Poem for Watching Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration on TV

Each morning we go and do our business,
we flush and we jump in the shower
or not, drying and then dressing.

All inside us is hunger. All inside us is
pang and rumble, yearn and ache, we
long for something touching our tongues.

Someone is scrambling an egg, boiling
water for coffee, Popping a Tart,
heating the things that taste better hot.

A woman in a hairnet waits on tables.
A line cook examines the melting butter.
A hostess says Please. Let me seat you now.

Say it plain: that many have slaved over this meal.
Sing the names of those who brought it here,
who plowed the fields, planted the crops,

picked the onions and the wheat, kneaded
batch by batch the glorious dough
they would then roll into perfect little rings.

Praise song for the bakers, praise song for the meal.
Praise song for every boiled little bite,
the chewing-it-up at kitchen tables.

Some live by you are what you eat,
others by an apple a day keeps the doctor away.
But what if the mightiest food is bagels?

Praise song for getting something in our stomachs.


01 2009

Don’t tell him I said this

Between you and me,
there’s this guy
on the docks
who works eighteen hour shifts
He opens
beer bottles
just with his teeth
and catches black marlin barehanded
He benches
three eighty
runs marathons each week
and memorized Pi to ninety digits
He tries law
in Jersey
and wins every case
and always finds contact lenses when you drop them
He tutors
celebrities’ kids
in ceramics
and decorates condos on the weekends
He’s a universal donor
a volunteer firefighter
a Big Brother, a junior senator and a physician
He can solve
all your problems
and answer your prayers —
but not until he gets his morning onion bagel in him,
because before that he’s just a big old worthless sleepy crabby crankypants

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01 2009