Politics now is rather like going into Starbucks for a coffee.
quote by Rory Bremner
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Java Blues
Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues
[...] Read more
song performed by Nazareth
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Coffee
Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.
"All right," she said.
I followed her up the stairs. It was ridiculous. She had just put some clothes on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.
Then she went down the stairs and outside to see if she had any mail. I didn't remember
seeing any. She came back up the stairs and went into another room. She closed the door
after her. I looked at the pan full of water on the stove.
I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October
and there was too much water in the pan. That was the problem. I threw half of the water
into the sink.
The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet.
I looked out the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage
and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and
peelings and stuff. I couldn't tell a thing.
It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.
I looked at the table. There was the jar of instant coffee, the empty cup and the spoon
all laid out like a funeral service. These are the things that you need to make a cup of
coffee.
When I left the house ten minutes later, the cup of coffee safely inside me like a
grave, I said, "Thank you for the cup of coffee."
"You're welcome," she said. Her voice came from behind a closed door. Her
voice sounded like another telegram. It was really time for me to leave.
I spent the rest of the day not making coffee. It was a comfort. And evening came, I
had dinner in a restaurant and went to a bar. I had some drinks and talked to some people.
We were bar people and said bar things. None of them remembered, and the bar closed. It
[...] Read more
poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Starbucks Lake Worth
Starbucks Lake Worth has unique employees working there,
here is a poem about them which I wrote to share.
Jessica is a Miami Dolphins cheerleader knows my drink,
she has it ready before it is rung in.
Nicole wears a red bracelet for good luck,
she works with Chris the morning shift, please tip them a buck.
Ivan and Ian are fraternal twins, Ian doesn’t work there but he fits in.
Mia was sweet- she gave me a free coffee as a treat.
There’s younger Taylor kind of shy, she goes to school I think part time.
Brittany with hair that’s blonde, Rachael & Ashley also have hair long.
Rachel is pregnant son born this year, Oliver Tanner Robert so dear.
Rachel had her birthday the other day, sky was sunny not cold and grey.
Elexie works night shift with black dark hair, she is sweet and cares.
Weekends Luke is on staff, he has a fun time he makes you laugh.
The employees at Starbucks are friendly and will say hello,
stop by Starbucks and buy delicious coffee on the go.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on February 6,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Starbucks Lake Worth
Starbucks Lake Worth has unique employees working there,
here is a poem about them which I wrote to share.
Jessica is a Miami Dolphins cheerleader knows my drink,
she has it ready before it is rung in.
Nicole wears a red bracelet for good luck,
she works with Chris the morning shift, please tip them a buck.
Ivan and Ian are fraternal twins, Ian doesn’t work there but he fits in.
Mia was sweet- she gave me a free coffee as a treat.
There’s younger Taylor kind of shy, she goes to school I think part time.
Brittany with hair that’s blonde, Rachael & Ashley also have hair long.
Rachel is pregnant son born this year, Oliver Tanner Robert so dear.
Rachel had her birthday the other day, sky was sunny not cold and grey.
Elexie works night shift with black dark hair, she is sweet and cares.
Weekends Luke is on staff, he has a fun time he makes you laugh.
The employees at Starbucks are friendly and will say hello,
stop by Starbucks and buy delicious coffee on the go.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on February 6,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Starfish & Coffee
It was 7:45 we were all in line
2 greet the teacher miss cathleen
First was kevin, then came lucy, third in line was me
All of us where ordinary compared to cynthia rose
She always stood at the back of the line
A smile beneath her nose
Her favorite number was 20 and every single day
If u asked her what she had 4 breakfast
This is what shed say
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Cynthia wore the prettiest dress
With different color socks
Sometimes I wondered if the mates where in her lunchbox
Me and lucy opened it when cynthia wasnt around
Lucy cried, I almost died, u know what we found?
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, honey
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Starfish and coffee
Cynthia had a happy face, just like the one shed draw
On every wall in every school
But its all right, its 4 a worthy cause
Go on, cynthia, keep singin
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ode to the Coffee
i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me
dawn, noon, night
hot, cold, warm
blow, sip, drink, slurp,
kiss and be all afresh
i am black
i am your
coffee of the day
one two three
gulp
gulp
gulp
...
i am black
i am coffee
every body loves me
i fill them up like
a ballet dancer
making them feel good
about the day
quickening their steps
sharpening their senses
giving their mind
the acme of my kicks
so that they twirl and swirl
the day like the best angel
full of class, verve,
grace and fervour
i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me
dawn, noon or night
i am there to brew up your day
hot, cold, or warm -
like the ever changing day
cloudy, raining,
breezy, or sunny
i am the master of diversity
assimilator of tastes
[...] Read more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee
The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.
poem by Chnar Namq
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A Miracle for Breakfast
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
that was going to be served from a certain balcony
--like kings of old, or like a miracle.
It was still dark. One foot of the sun
steadied itself on a long ripple in the river.
The first ferry of the day had just crossed the river.
It was so cold we hoped that the coffee
would be very hot, seeing that the sun
was not going to warm us; and that the crumb
would be a loaf each, buttered, by a miracle.
At seven a man stepped out on the balcony.
He stood for a minute alone on the balcony
looking over our heads toward the river.
A servant handed him the makings of a miracle,
consisting of one lone cup of coffee
and one roll, which he proceeded to crumb,
his head, so to speak, in the clouds--along with the sun.
Was the man crazy? What under the sun
was he trying to do, up there on his balcony!
Each man received one rather hard crumb,
which some flicked scornfully into the river,
and, in a cup, one drop of the coffee.
Some of us stood around, waiting for the miracle.
I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle.
A beautiful villa stood in the sun
and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee.
In front, a baroque white plaster balcony
added by birds, who nest along the river,
--I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--
and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb
my mansion, made for me by a miracle,
through ages, by insects, birds, and the river
working the stone. Every day, in the sun,
at breakfast time I sit on my balcony
with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee.
We licked up the crumb and swallowed the coffee.
A window across the river caught the sun
as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Jimmy The Explorer
JIMMY THE EXPLORER
Now Jimmy
Well, do you want an explosion now?
Yeah Jimmy
Do you want to explode now?
Yeah monkey
Now you seeing red now
Yeah monkey
Jumping on the bed now
Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
Green apples
On the tree and growing now
Green apples
Are gonna be exploding now
Yeah monkey
Are you seeing red now?
Yeah monkey
Jumping on the bed now
Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
STOP BREAKING DOWN
Everytime Im walkin, down the streets,
some pretty mama she starts breakin down
Stop breakin down, yes stop breakin down
The stuff I gotll bust your brains out, baby, hoo hoo,
itll make you lose your mind.
Now, you Saturday night womens, you love to ape and clown,
you wont do nothin but tear good man (i.e Jack White) reputation down
Stop breakin down, please stop breakin down
The stuff I gotll bust your brains out, baby, hoo hoo,
itll make you lose your mind
Now, I give my baby, now, the ninety-nine degree,
she jumped up and throwed a pistol down on me
Stop breakin down, please stop breakin down
Stuff I gotll bust your brains out, if you think you lose your mind
THE BIG THREE KILLED MY BABY
The big three killed my baby
no money in my hand again
the big three killed my baby
nobody's coming home again
Their ideas made me want to spit
a hundred dollars goes down the pit
30,000 wheels are rollin
and my stick shift hands are swollen
everything involved is shady
the big three killed my baby
The big three killed my baby
no money in my hand again
the big three killed my baby
nobody's coming home again
Why dont you take the day off and try to repair
[...] Read more
song performed by White Stripes
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Alankar (Decor) -25
Over A Cup Of Coffee (Rondine)
Tense, jittery over a cup of coffee
They talked for long hours
A coffee dropp bored of hours
Told the lady with a cup of coffee
'My lady, finish your coffee
A bored dropp on lips yours
Tense, jittery'
'Not mine'said the lady with coffee
'Fault is his wasting hours
Blot or break..his settling hours
So are we and this cup of coffee
Tense, jittery'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Coffee Homeground
Down in the cellar
Youre getting into making poison.
You slipped some on the side,
Into my glass of wine,
And I dont want any coffee--homeground.
Offer me a chocolate,
No thank you, spoil my diet, know your game!
But tell me just how come
They smell of bitter almonds?
Its a no-no to your coffee homeground.
Pictures of crippin
Lipstick-smeared.
Torn wallpaper.
Have the walls got ears here?
Well, you wont get me with your belladonna--in the coffee,
And you wont get me with your aresenic--in the pot of tea,
And you wont get me in a hole to rot--with your hemlock
On the rocks.
Where are the plumbers
Who went a-missing here on monday?
There was a tall man
With his companion,
And I bet you gave them coffee--homeground.
Maybe youre lonely,
And only want a little company,
But keep your recipes
For the rats to eat,
And may they rest in peace with coffee homeground.
Well, you wont get me with your belladonna--in the coffee,
And you wont get me with your aresenic--in the pot of tea,
And you wont put me in a six-foot plot--with your hemlock
On the rocks.
You wont get me with your belladonna--in the coffee,
And you wont get me with your aresenic--in the pot of tea,
And you wont get me in a hole to rot--with your hemlock
On the rocks.
With your hemlock on the rocks.
Noch ein glas, mein liebchen? *
With your hemlock on the rocks.
Es schmeckt wunderbahr!*
With your hemlock on the rocks.
Und ? ? ?
song performed by Kate Bush
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The Coffee Slips
Whene'er I fragrant coffee drink,
I on the generous Frenchman think,
Whose noble perseverance bore
The tree to Martinico's shore.
While yet her colony was new,
Her island products but a few,
Two shoots from off a coffee-tree
He carried with him o'er the sea.
Each little tender coffee slip
He waters daily in the ship,
And as he tends his embryo trees,
Feels he is raising midst the seas
Coffee groves, whose ample shade
Shall screen the dark Creolian maid.
But soon, alas! his darling pleasure
In watching this his precious treasure
Is like to fade,-for water fails
On board the ship in which he sails.
Now all the reservoirs are shut,
The crew on short allowance put;
So small a drop is each man's share,
Few leavings you may think there are
To water these poor coffee plants;-
But he supplies their gasping wants,
Even from his own dry parchëd lips
He spares it for his coffee slips.
Water he gives his nurslings first,
Ere he allays his own deep thirst
Lest, if he first the water sip,
He bear too far his eager lip.
He sees them droop for want of more;-
Yet when they reach the destined shore,
With pride the heroic gardener sees
A living sap still in his trees.
The islanders his praise resound;
Coffee plantations rise around;
And Martinico loads her ships
With produce from those dear-saved slips.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Cup of mocha
You never liked
the taste of mocha
You said it was
coffee laced
with chocolate lies
I always loved it
when the chocolate
masked the coffee
Just enough, and
let it linger nice
A lie coated truth
But, truth nevertheless...
The warm cup of mocha
Stands and grows cold
outside in
Dreams, forgotten,
lie dormant
new, old within
I stretch over the table
as across continents
To hold your hands,
to cup some warmth into;
a coffee grown cold,
a life grown old
We always shared
the mocha
you sipping
seeking the coffee
While I taste
the chocolate,
wait with the coffee
We stare athwart
Our love’s passion,
no longer an obsession
It retains within us ties,
Coffee mingled with chocolate lies
You always said
“Serve me poison,
with a smile,
I will drink it too.
Please, don’t lace it
with chocolate as with
coffee you do.”
[...] Read more
poem by O. Sudhir Janardhanan
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Coffee and the poor economies of the world.
Respect the sweat of human,
Irrespective of color, creed and religion,
One third of tap water is used to brew the coffee,
Procured two to five dollars per kilo in whole sale,
Starbucks sell two pound a cup in the stalls in UK,
Have spacious restaurants in our regions
converting UK pounds to our pitiful denomination,
Americana, Cappuccino, Mocha and Espresso,
Fancy name attached with degree of roasting,
Fermentation, with milk, without milk and bubbles,
Come to our countries, freshly roasted filter coffee,
Available on the road sides for five rupees a cup,
Cup size of less than 50 ml, just to moisten the throat,
Even the Cups of developed nations, fivefold our size,
Still it is only 25 rupees, equivalent to fifty cents,
We are the poor people; give us the fair price,
Coffee is the third liquid, after petroleum, on the market,
Out of one kilo coffee powder,100 cups can be brewed,
R&D, Oil rigs, Oil platforms, expensive engineers and workmen,
Billions of dollar investment, still one liter petrol costs 140 pence,
What have you invested in our poor countries,
To drink the sweat of our plantation coolies so cheap?
How are we obligated to sell our produce,
So cheap for you to increase the value and sell?
WE are fools and our politicians are your tools,
To puncture our hearts to do the batter trade.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Politics Of Kissing
Shes looking back to see if hes looking at her
They talk without any words
And with a smile hes moving heaven and earth
She dreams of holding him tight
When will the moment be right
Got to be diplomatic, a step at a time
Dont want to blow it baby
Chorus:
Thats the politics of kissing
To know when to show your hand
First thoughts then second guessing
A subtle supply and demand
Balance of power baby
To hold or not to hold
Thats the politics of kissing
Youre finding your way as you go, go, go
How do you know
Head over heels under the moon looking at you
But do you feel it too
And if I move in closer what will you do
Cause Im thinking please hold me tight
Am I the light in your eyes
I wish you had the power for reading my mind
cause Ill never say it to you
(repeat chorus)
Oh-oo-oh-oo-oh, oh-oo-oh-oo-oh
Oh-oo-oh-oo-oh, oh-oo-oh-oo-oh
Oh-oo-oh-oo-oh-oo-oh
Oh-oo-oh-oo-oh, oh-oo-oh-oo-oh
Oh-oo-oh-oo-oh-oo-oh
Hear what Im sayin to ya
Thats the politics of kissing
To know when to show your hand
First thoughts then second guessing
A subtle supply and demand
Balance of power baby
To hold or not to hold
Thats the politics of kissing
Thats the politics of kissing
To know when to show your hand
First thoughts then second guessing
A subtle supply and demand
Balance of power baby
To hold or not to hold
Thats the politics of kissing
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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One More Cup Of Coffee
Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky.
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie.
But i don't sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above.
One more cup of coffee for the road,
One more cup of coffee 'fore i go
To the valley below.
Your daddy he's an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He'll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade.
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food.
One more cup of coffee for the road,
One more cup of coffee 'fore i go
To the valley below.
Your sister sees the future
Like your mama and yourself.
You've never learned to read or write
There's no books upon your shelf.
And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark.
One more cup of coffee for the road,
One more cup of coffee 'fore i go
To the valley below.
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Black Coffee
Feat. merry clayton
She smelled like flowers, she tastes like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me softly
Got too close and she backed up off me
Left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee
She told me that shed always be thinkin of me
She said she wanted me to know that she really did love me
She said she never put no one else above me
Except her monkey, shes like a junkie
Just like a junkie, just like a junkie
It was april 25th, its up around 80
Found a spot out in the park where the grass is shady
She said her moms from jamaica said her fathers from haiti
Such a pretty lady, shes such a lady
She smelled like flowers, she tastes like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me softly
Got too close and she backed up off me
She left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee, just like black coffee , just like black coffee
song performed by Everlast
Added by Lucian Velea
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One More Cup Of Coffee
Your breath is sweet and weak,
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky.
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie.
But I don't sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above.
One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below.
Your daddy he's an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He'll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food
One more cup of coffee for the road,
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below
Your sister sees the future
Like your mother and yourself
You've never learned to read or write
There's no books upon your shelf.
But your pleasure knows no limits
And your voice is like a meadowlark
Your heart is like the ocean
Mysterious and dark
One more cup of coffee for the road,
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below
song performed by White Stripes
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Cup of Coffee
I start my day with coffee as my friend
The beans so fresh, as it blends
Giving out an aroma, that wakes me up
I stumble to the kitchen and look for the cup
I pour some black liquid and sip right away
I just want coffee, to start my day
Then on the road I'm on my way
Coffee is my friend to make my day
Stuck in traffic, I loose my mind
I then sip my coffee and just rewind
I get to work with a cup in hand
Juggling with papers I can't withstand
The coffee at work tastes bitter and cheap
But it's better than getting caught counting sheep
All day long, I make pot after pot
Of black steaming mugs of liquid gut-rot
Tanked up on coffee, I face the day
Taking anything that comes my way.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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