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The less soup, the more spoons.

Malawian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Talk Soup

I dated siamese twins
I slept with bigfoot, too
Get me on sally jesse
Put me on donahue
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
My dogs a narcoleptic
My moms a circus freak
I gotta get a spot on
Geraldos show this week
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just an anorexic codependant bingo addict
Stripper born without a chin
And Im only comfortable talking about it
When the whole wide world is listening in
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
My wife ran off with elvis
My boss shaved off my hair
Ive got a thing for poodles
And rubber underwear
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
I had a close encounter
I never chew my food
I got eleven nose jobs
I yodel in the nude
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just a cross-dressin alcoholic neo-nazi
Porno star, as you may have guessed
And Im really gonna feel a whole lot better
If you let me get this thing off my chest
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Im just your average schizophrenic nymphomaniac
Albino go-go dancer, you see
Nothin so bad that I cant share it
With a billion friends on national tv, whoa...
I have no genitalia
I sold my kids for cheese
I love my blow up doll, so
Bring out those cameras, please
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Soup Of The Day

Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day

song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sip It As If Kettled

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Then grade it,
Homemade.
And...
Savor every flavor that's pursued.
To aid,
Your best to be...
The one who lives your life,
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.
And one of a kind you find!

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Then grade it,
Homemade.
And...
Savor every flavor that's pursued.
To aid,
Your best to be...
The one who lives your life,
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.
And one of a kind you find!

Just sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Your life.
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.

And,
Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

And,
Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spoonful

By willie dixon
Could fill spoons full of diamonds,
Could fill spoons full of gold.
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Will satisfy my soul.
Men lies about it.
Some of them cries about it.
Some of them dies about it.
Everythings a-fightin about the spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
Could fill spoons full of coffee,
Could fill spoons full of tea.
Just a little spoon of your precious love;
Is that enough for me?
Chorus
Could fill spoons full of water,
Save them from the desert sands.
But a little spoon of your forty-five
Saved you from another man.
Chorus
Cats squirrel (traditional)
(instrumental)

song performed by Cream
Added by Lucian Velea
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Spoonful

By willie dixon
Could fill spoons full of diamonds,
Could fill spoons full of gold.
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Will satisfy my soul.
Men lies about it.
Some of them cries about it.
Some of them dies about it.
Everythings a-fightin about the spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
Could fill spoons full of coffee,
Could fill spoons full of tea.
Just a little spoon of your precious love;
Is that enough for me?
Chorus
Could fill spoons full of water,
Save them from the desert sands.
But a little spoon of your forty-five
Saved you from another man.
Chorus

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Great Beyond

Ive watched the stars fall silent from your eyes
All the sights that I have seen
I cant believe that I believed I wished
That you could see
Theres a new planet in the solar system
There is nothing up my sleeve
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
And all this talk of time
Talk is fine
And I dont want to stay around
Why cant we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Being here with wings on our feet
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears
Sweetest dreams of you
Look into the stars
Look into the moon
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great
(repeat following two verses 3 x each)
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of The Breakfast Table

When the Festal Board, as the papers say,
Groans 'neath the weight of a lot to eat,
At breakfast, Fruhstuck or dejeuner,
(As a bard tri-lingual I'm rather neat)
At breakfast, then, if I may repeat,
This is what gets me into a huff,
This is a query I cannot beat:
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?

I've broken my fast with the grave and gay,
With hoi polloi and with the elite;
I've been all over the U. S. A.
From Dorchester Crossing to Kearney Street.
But aye when I sit in the morning seat
Comes to my notice the self-same bluff,
Plenty of food, but in this they cheat:
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?

Take it at breakfast, only to-day:
This was the layout, fresh and sweet:
Canteloupe, sweet as the new-mown hay; [Footnote: And about as edible.]
Cereal-one of the brands[Footnote: To advertisers: This space for sale.]
of wheat;
Soft-boiled eggs (we've cut out the meat) :
Coffee (a claro-manila-buff) :
Napery, china, and glasses complete-
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?

L'ENVOI

Autocratesses, forgive my heat,
But isn't it time to change that stuff?
Small is the benison I entreat-
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?

poem by Franklin P. Adams
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The Hasty Pudding

A POEM IN THREE CANTOS

Canto I

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not to you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Despise it not, ye bards to terror steeled,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the stillhouse bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
It's substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.
Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rime,
No more thy awkward unpoetic name
Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame;
But rising grateful to the accustomed ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere!
Assist me first with pious toil to trace
Through wrecks of time thy lineage and they race;
Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore,
(Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore)
First gave thee to the world; her works of fame
Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.
Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days,
First learned with stones to crack the well-dried maize,
Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower,
In boiling water stir the yellow flour:
The yellow flour, bestrewed and stirred with haste,
Swell in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim,
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Soup of day

She said severely:
“God have said: the soup must be warm! ”
It was a Gazpacho, a cold soup to a warm evening.
I have mixed tomatos, cucumbers,
red and green peppers,
red onions, a few garlics,
a few parsleys and coriander.
This soup had a beautiful colour: red and green! green and red!
It was cold, very cold, iced.

I have warmed up her soup
I have grilled also some scallops
with a pistachio dressing
she said:
“It is delightful mostly the orange and red parts.”

It was only a question of colours
I have dreamt at a blue gazpacho, blue scallops
Blue like the sea but the sea is never blue
and the blue is not a tasty colour.

Then we have recited some french poems

This evening was quiet and tender
despite the heat wave.

I like to remember this iced soup
and the awful warmth.

poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Sexual Soup

A man so sick that the sexual soup
cannot save him -

the chicken soup of sex
which cures everything:
tossed mane of noodles,
bits of pale white meat.
the globules of yellow fat
like love...

But he is a man so sick
no soup can save him.

His throat has healed into a scar.
Rage fills his guts.
He wants to diet on dust.

I offered to feed him
(spoon by spoon)
myself.

I offered my belly as a bowl.
I offered my hands as spoons,
my knees as tongs,
my breasts as the chafing dish
to keep us warm

I offered my navel
as a brandy snifter.

"My tongue is gone," he said,
"I have no teeth.
My mouth is with my mother in the grave.
I've offered up my hunger to the air,
my nostrils to the wind,
my sex to death,
my eyes to nothingness & dust."

"What do you lust for then?"
I asked.

"I lust for nothing."

poem by Erica Jong
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The Great Beyond

(berry/buck/mills/stipe)
Ive watched the stars fall silent from your eyes
All the sights that I have seen
I cant believe that I believed I wished
That you could see
Theres a new planet in the solar system
Theres nothing up my sleeve
(chorus 1)
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
And all this talk of time
Talk is fine
And I dont want to stay around
Why cant we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Being here with wings on our feet
(repeat chorus 1)
(chorus 2)
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears
Sweetest dreams of you
Look into the stars
Look into the moon
(repeat chorus 1)
(repeat chorus 2 2x)
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great, answers from the great
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great, answers from the great, answers

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy

I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.

Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.

What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.

I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.

20/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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D.w. Washburn

Lead vocal: micky dolenz
Produced by: the monkees
D.w. washburn, i heard a sweet voice say.
D.w. washburn, this is your lucky day.
A hot bowl of soup is waitin'.
A hot bowl of soup and a shave.
D.w. washburn, we picked you to say.
Can't you hear the bugle call? can't you hear the bells?
Even you can be reborn, you naughty
If you don't get out of that gutter,
Before the next big rain.
D.w. wahsburn, you're gonna wash right down the drain.
Up, up, come on get up off your street.
If you can only make it from your hands to your knees,
I know you can make it to your feet. wooah!
D.w. washburn, i said to myself.
D.w. washburn, why don't you go save sombody else?
Well, i got no job to go to.
I don't work and i don't get paid.
I got a bottle of wine, i'm feelin' fine.
And i believe i got it made.
I'd like to thank all you good people
For comin' to my aid.
But i'm d.w. washburn.
I do believe i got it made.
I do believe i got it made, don't need nobody.
I do believe i got it made, i do believe i got it made.
Or...
Dw washburn i heard a sweet voice say
Dw washburn this is your lucky day
A hot bowl of soup is waitin'
A hot bowl of soup and a shave...
Dw washburn...we picked you to save (the whole thing is about the
Salvation army finding some soul that they think needs saving....and the guy
Is perfectly content as he is)
Can't you hear the flugle horn?
Can't you hear the band? (also could be bells...certainly fits the music
Here...but the band would refer to the sal army)
Even you can be reborn
You naughty n'er - do-well (an archaic term for a slacker)
Get up, get outta that gutter
Before the next big rain.
Dw washburn...you're gonna wash right down the drain.
Up, up...c'mon get up (my kid's favorite part of the song)
Get up off your street (has been written as "seat" in other places, but
Micky is clearly saying "street" ...which works in context.)
If you can only make it from your hands to your knees,
I know you can make it to your feet..whooo
Dw washburn i said to myself (character is going introspective here)
Dw washburn why don't you go save somebody else? (i.e. we picked you to

[...] Read more

song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sit Around the House to Sing a Blues or Two

All you think about is apple strudel.
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!

All you think about is apple strudel.
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!

Your wish upon a star ain't going to far.
Getting 'drunked up' and sitting at a bar.

The happy hour came to come to a close.
And there you are with a snotty nose.
Thinking you're attractive with a wobble in your pose.

All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
Ooo...
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!

All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
Ooo...
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!
Believing there is no one who is made for you.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.

All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
Believing there is no one who is made for you.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Dark Shadows.

the pepper pot

towards the nun
on her right.

The salt follows
once more given

a gentle shove.
To understand

another’s need
without them asking,

an elderly nun
had said.

A nun is reading
from a high desk

in the refectory.
Some book on Cromwell,

a life, back whenever when.
She sips her soup,

the French soup spoon
held in her right hand.

The nun on her left
passes the water jug.

Offers to pour.
Sister Felicity nods

and smiles.
The nun pours

a liberal amount
then puts down the jug.

Opposite an elderly nun
dribbles soup,

her shaky hand
missing the target.

Nan did that.
How can one forget?

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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Ode to W. Kitchener, M.D.

Author of
The Cook's Oracle, Observations on Vocal Music, The Art of Invigorating and Prolonging Life, Practical Observations on Telescopes, Opera-Glasses, and Spectacles, The Housekeeper's Ledger
and
The Pleasure of Making a Will.

'I rule the roast, as Milton says!'
—Caleb Quotem.

Oh! multifarious man!
Thou Wondrous, Admirable Kitchen Crichton!
Born to enlighten
The laws of Optics, Peptics, Music, Cooking—
Master of the Piano—and the Pan—
As busy with the kitchen as the skies!
Now looking
At some rich stew thro' Galileo's eyes,—
Or boiling eggs—timed to a metronome—
As much at home
In spectacles as in mere isinglass—
In the art of frying brown—as a digression
On music and poetical expression,
Whereas, how few of all our cooks, alas!
Could tell Calliope from 'Callipee!'
How few there be
Could leave the lowest for the highest stories, (Observatories,)
And turn, like thee, Diana's calculator,
However cook's synonymous with Kater!
Alas! still let me say,
How few could lay
The carving knife beside the tuning fork,
Like the proverbial Jack ready for any work!

II

Oh, to behold thy features in thy book!
Thy proper head and shoulders in a plate,
How it would look!
With one rais'd eye watching the dial's date,
And one upon the roast, gently cast down—
Thy chops—done nicely brown—
The garnish'd brow—with 'a few leaves of bay'—
The hair—'done Wiggy's way!'
And still one studious finger near thy brains,
As if thou wert just come
From editing some
New soup—or hashing Dibdin's cold remains;
Or, Orpheus-like,—fresh from thy dying strains
Of music,—Epping luxuries of sound,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Hood
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Supper

The supper of the red soup came with love,
And Veh came along with Xeh as the next door neighbours;
But Beh was my friend on the supper of the red soup,
And i will take Beh back home on this love.
The pictures of my mind brought up wonderful colours,
And of the muse of the red soup so enjoyed last night;
But i will take Beh back home to embrace my love.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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You cook vegetable soup

You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.

There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.

We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Sky Seasoning

A piece of sky
Broke off and fell
Through the crack in the ceiling
Right into my soup,
KERPLOP!
I really must state
That I usually hate
Lentil soup, but I ate
Every drop!
Delicious delicious
(A bit like plaster),
But so delicious, goodness sake--
I could have eaten a lentil-soup lake.
It's amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Chicken Lips And Lizard Hips

When i was a little kid
I never liked to eat
Mom would put things on my plate
And i'd dump 'em on her feet
But then one day she made this soup
I ate it all in bed
I asked her what she put in it
And this is what she said:
"oh, chicken lips and lizard hips
And alligator eyes
Monkey legs and buzzard eggs
And salamander thighs
Rabbit ears and camel rears
And tasty toenail pies
Stir 'em all together
And it's mama's soup surprise"
I went into the bathroom
And i stood beside the sink
I said, "i'm feeling slightly ill
And i think i'd like a drink"
Mama said, "i've just the thing
I'll get it in a wink
It's full of lots of protein
And vitamins, i think"
"oh, chicken lips and lizard hips
And alligator eyes
Monkey legs and buzzard eggs
And salamander thighs
Rabbit ears and camel rears
And tasty toenail pies
Stir 'em all together
And it's mama's soup surprise

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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