Compare my motorbike and air-fryer
Because at times they both can be quite cold.
So, when they are their buttons I will push
To turn them on, my touch must not withhold.
I'll warm them up until their engines roar,
And they will then be ready to excite.
Both giving me exactly what I want
A long hard ride, then a fat free delight.
I can't believe how similar they are
My motor bike and air- fryer I love.
Both meet my needs that I can't do without
For this I am so sure, and have no doubt.
chill to take my breath away
the tailpipe streamers
this day trip must take place
a cozy talk
heater on sun-strength
Dad bundled up
dust, sweep, mop
clean and sanitize
drop and talk
olives stabbed
martini sipped
Dad dips
his glass
to Mom’s ashes
preheat air fryer
flipping burgers
preheat oven
turning frozen fries
drop and talk
my Dad’s alive
this day trip must end
with tailpipe streamers
wall to wall traffic
and a warm smile
and a hand
as my husband
helps me unload
drop and talk
after I text
my Dad
and he
texts back a red heart
and tells me
he loves me
Written By: D. Collins 2/1/25
Like thick sliced bacon straight from the air fryer.
Today my daughter is Queen of her empire.
Her subjects will do whatever she wants done.
And on her birthday served with total Cart Blanche.
Like the crispy, fried bacon left on our tongue.
She's a woman that stands second to none.
Yeah, a father is biased when it comes to his.
But, today is the day she was born to live.
The opportunity sparked a fierce desire
A cunning liar is trying to conspire
Plotting schemes that would require
Causing the masses tears to flood the mire
The choir sang with voices higher
Looking for a bold lady or noble squire
Capable of mending our old attire
Bake these words in an air fryer
The hissing revealed a situation growing dire
Look a devious flyer is soaring above the spire
Falsely proclaiming tales to inspire
Hiding in the quagmire as an actual occupier
Their words thickening the air like a humidifier
The supplier is attempting rewire
All of us who dare to still inquire
An amplifier’s hum drew the self-proclaimed sire
Who foolishly gazed at stars with his heart’s desire
Each promise made proved to be a modifier
The identifier called it out as a testifier
Through it all the proclamations became slier
We need to rise above the snake oil salesmen’s ire
Buckle up and find the strength not to retire
Find the heart to not back down or tire
Kid naps here, daycare!
Sick babies...About those
Kidnaps are there! Out there!
I wish I could, evocation, dowry!
For an already invested $275 nuptial Tyler Mowrey!
Gaza wall and Tel-Aviv- a , embracing in Jackson Church
Sameeha Azra- eel A and a PEER in peer pressure for air fryer
Is your oxygen an EIN? Bargaining overseas? Playing diplomacy? Daunts in ranting ramps where models stood?
Sometimes, data cable is not that a bad idea, where "inna lillah" is also a cliched Hinda call!
Long she served Holly Wood, May she come true among converts and traveler (pilgrims)
further in optimism in selfless "Sufism" not "Sophism or Hedonism",
Sin and Boon are all stamped with the sense of Shame, where the guilt is sensed after all!
Not a river dredging and to make a parable to river shifting, as no longer helpful!
Helpful and no longer! For once, try in Pickthall!
For the end of the time and the beginning, too
Time impeccable is Timeless Allah (SWT) and the all-knowing and all!
In time He begets not,
In Time He is free from the need of an obgyn,
of that specialty, departmental.
Choosing a genuine leader
Is a dauntingly difficult task
To constitutionally ask
Uninformed voters
To vote their conscience.
Such a practice defies science
And natural common sense.
That too many followers lack
And where criminals hack
The convoluted system
With a simple leaf
Of a fragile stem.
It is hard to catch the thief
The convicted felon, the liar or the backstabber
Who lies like a hot fryer.
It not easy to choose a leader
Who can only win the pot, but
Can lead, without being the butt
Of all hard-working comedians.
Do not shoot the native Indians
They have nothing to do with this turmoil
Which is ravaging the nature of this soil.
Do not kill the good aliens
For no reasons, for excuses
Nobody will believe the ruses.
A real leader is not a tyrant
Who can only talk rubbish or rant.
Choosing a great leader is not easy
The voters must not be delusional and crazy
Money can buy privilege and power
But it cannot buy greatness and candor.
Hebert Logerie Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor
Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay
The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin.
Carp
A Carp in the fryer,
is worth far more than,
all the trout in a lake.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Iran is playing with fire
If Israel gets hot ~
Tehran will burn in her fryer
Inside an archaic framework
she fetches a pail from the fields,
the bucket on her hip is full of
broken eagles.
Wind turbines churn in the distance.
He takes the mangled birds
plucks them,
puts their heads on poles
loads them onto a flatbed.
His dour darling fixes fixings
with a rusting air-fryer;
plaits her hair with chicken wire.
Drones mourn like doves in the evening.
Rattling pods spread
their dry seeds over abandoned crops.
Bald feathers flap on
a black-booted scarecrow.
A morbid factotum arrives
deposits clods of earth
from out the back of
of a fly-specked hearse.
Horse heads turn
on a squeaking wind vane.
Inside a slow burning barn
Unstrung fiddles lay at rest
in their open coffins.
Bill Dyer
Here lies the crisp remains of Chef Bill Dyer
Tumbled head first into a deep fat fryer.
Carlos De Rava
The statue on this grave is of Carlos De Rava
Fell in taking pictures of fast flowing lava.
Alfred. J. Clark
Buried in this grave is the left foot of Alfred. J. Clark
It was all they could find when they cut open a shark.
Joe
In this grave lies poor Joe who was very short sighted
Stick of dynamite instead of a cigar was what he ignited.
David. T. Murrey
In this crypt is just the head of David. T. Murrey
No one attended his funeral because he had no-body.
Jonathan Cass
The mirth you can hear in this grave is of Jonathan Cass
Was smoking a cigarette whilst making laughing gas.
Written on 20th November 2022
Hate is vile
Hate doesn't smile
Hate is rough and tough
And sips bad stuff.
Hate hits
Hate spits
Fire, fire
In the dire drier.
Hate burns
Hate hurts
Hate is cursed
Hate outbursts.
Hate prejudges
Hate misjudges
Hate destroys health
And causes untimely death.
Hate is ugly
Hate is nasty
Hate is deadly
And very lousy.
Hate lies
Hate cries
Fire, fire
In the air fryer.
Hate is a crime
Hate is a waste of time
Hate is audacious
Envious and obnoxious.
Hate has no luck
Hate does not give a fork
Hate is very sad
Hate is very mad.
Hate is hell
Ring the bell
To chase away the haters
The corrupt liars and the sinners.
Copyright © November 2022 Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
There once was a monk named Cur Plunk
Who frequently strayed from his bunk
He claimed he was drunk
And stunk like a skunk
'til his hunk of a trunk had shrunk
I roasted hotdogs
in an air fryer.
We gathered to celebrate.
There was a backyard romance going on
right under our eyes,
divorce played tennis for a while
in an open court.
Strange how hotdogs
can spark secrets,
how warm hands will flirt
between cold beers.
When two left
adultery
hovered between them.
I am your dreams
Curled up in a ball.
Napping vicious dreams,
Crouched against the wall.
Oh the stoic stares at dovetailing dreams.
Throw your fryer in the briar.
May the mist tear your eyes.
You haven't cried in months.
Bleep out all dull colors,
Let the celluloid solitude remain a-drip.
You are your heart's keeper.
Tend to your first original light.
The all-possible pulsar of our lives.
Related Poems