At first I thought
I didn't like
dark chocolate
and
black coffee
because they're
bitter.
Then I remembered
I like you.
Showing posts with label Tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tea. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Coffee Beans - 002/17/14
Let me justify this
sleepless habit
by saying that
God
itself must have been
caffeinated
to create the world
in six days
and only rest on
the seventh.
So this rampage
through days
without breaks
is cleanliness,
as it is next
to Godliness.
I am drinking poison
designed to prevent
herbivores
from consuming
coffee beans
and I think
I've always been able
to feel it
but the only time
I couldn't ignore it
was when rainbows
covered chalk boards
on that first
24 hour mark.
sleepless habit
by saying that
God
itself must have been
caffeinated
to create the world
in six days
and only rest on
the seventh.
So this rampage
through days
without breaks
is cleanliness,
as it is next
to Godliness.
I am drinking poison
designed to prevent
herbivores
from consuming
coffee beans
and I think
I've always been able
to feel it
but the only time
I couldn't ignore it
was when rainbows
covered chalk boards
on that first
24 hour mark.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Better and Worse - 01/21/14
Nothing tastes better
than the smell of the coffee
you've been denying yourself
for a day, a week,
almost a week and a half.
You can smell if from
your professor's cup
across the room
and you remember
that every single
cup of coffee
has always tasted
good enough
to distract you from
the equations on the board.
Nothing tastes worse
than your lips
saying, "Yeah,
I started again.
I never really
wanted steady hands
and normal REM cycles."
than the smell of the coffee
you've been denying yourself
for a day, a week,
almost a week and a half.
You can smell if from
your professor's cup
across the room
and you remember
that every single
cup of coffee
has always tasted
good enough
to distract you from
the equations on the board.
Nothing tastes worse
than your lips
saying, "Yeah,
I started again.
I never really
wanted steady hands
and normal REM cycles."
Monday, January 13, 2014
Cold Turkey - 01/13/14
Two pressure points
in the minor fractures
of my scalp
from aimless thoughts
and concentration
picking away
layers of tissue
and bloodying my
fingers nails is
nothing compared
to the intoxicating
scent of fresh coffee
from the seat next to me.
Never should have
quit tea.
in the minor fractures
of my scalp
from aimless thoughts
and concentration
picking away
layers of tissue
and bloodying my
fingers nails is
nothing compared
to the intoxicating
scent of fresh coffee
from the seat next to me.
Never should have
quit tea.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Tea Shop - 01/03/14
Don't look up from the coffee pot
where your sweet tea tears
flavor bitter caffeination
to feign regeneration
of your heavy, longing eyes
and quicken the pace of your heart
with chemical uncertainty.
So in the dust between
first edition Dickinson anthologies,
pine for pages
to spark beneath your fingers
and the scent of rose petal tea
to fill your heaving lungs.
where your sweet tea tears
flavor bitter caffeination
to feign regeneration
of your heavy, longing eyes
and quicken the pace of your heart
with chemical uncertainty.
So in the dust between
first edition Dickinson anthologies,
pine for pages
to spark beneath your fingers
and the scent of rose petal tea
to fill your heaving lungs.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
2014 - 01/01/14
Capture the world in more words and memories
and less regrets and fantasies.
More tea, less coffee;
more coffee, less espresso shots;
more espresso shots, less procrastination;
more procrastination to look at the stars.
Look at the stars.
Look at the moon.
Ask friends to walk with me,
ask friends to dine with me,
watch movies with me,
laugh with me,
sit in silence and study with me.
and less regrets and fantasies.
More tea, less coffee;
more coffee, less espresso shots;
more espresso shots, less procrastination;
more procrastination to look at the stars.
Look at the stars.
Look at the moon.
Ask friends to walk with me,
ask friends to dine with me,
watch movies with me,
laugh with me,
sit in silence and study with me.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
0.707 - 10/30/12
I feel like
one over the
square root of two
is following me
everywhere I go,
in each math problem,
physics equation,
chemistry example;
one number
is creeping
over my calculator's screen,
repeating eerily,
0.707.
I feel like
Pascal is following me
everywhere I go,
at each decision I make,
each hesitance,
each crossroad,
one flawed argument,
encroaching on all
my on-goings,
whispering,
"The reward outweighs
the cost."
I feel like
Robert Oppenheimer
has an apartment
in my brain,
a little one room studio
covered in books
and white boards
and equations
and bags of tea,
with Curie next door
on the right
and Bohr next door
on the left.
Joe Strummer,
Pablo Neruda, and
Langston Hughes
live a floor below.
Captain Picard,
Hamlet, and
Carl Sagan
live a floor above.
They all wander in and out
of the lobby
of my cerebellum,
chit chatting,
gossiping,
deriving equations,
mincing verse
and memorized lines,
yet all end up saying,
"Physics or Poetry?"
I feel like
OR
is following me
everywhere I go,
defining what I can
and can never
have, hold, be,
taunting aspirations,
burning lists of goals,
tearing down
carefully crafted towers
of fanciful futures
in harmonies of
"Position or momentum?
Emotion or structure?
Science or art?"
I feel like
the things I think of
too often
have warped my mind
around them
and the only path
to freedom is
AND.
one over the
square root of two
is following me
everywhere I go,
in each math problem,
physics equation,
chemistry example;
one number
is creeping
over my calculator's screen,
repeating eerily,
0.707.
I feel like
Pascal is following me
everywhere I go,
at each decision I make,
each hesitance,
each crossroad,
one flawed argument,
encroaching on all
my on-goings,
whispering,
"The reward outweighs
the cost."
I feel like
Robert Oppenheimer
has an apartment
in my brain,
a little one room studio
covered in books
and white boards
and equations
and bags of tea,
with Curie next door
on the right
and Bohr next door
on the left.
Joe Strummer,
Pablo Neruda, and
Langston Hughes
live a floor below.
Captain Picard,
Hamlet, and
Carl Sagan
live a floor above.
They all wander in and out
of the lobby
of my cerebellum,
chit chatting,
gossiping,
deriving equations,
mincing verse
and memorized lines,
yet all end up saying,
"Physics or Poetry?"
I feel like
OR
is following me
everywhere I go,
defining what I can
and can never
have, hold, be,
taunting aspirations,
burning lists of goals,
tearing down
carefully crafted towers
of fanciful futures
in harmonies of
"Position or momentum?
Emotion or structure?
Science or art?"
I feel like
the things I think of
too often
have warped my mind
around them
and the only path
to freedom is
AND.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Una Taza de Corazón - 09/11/12
La
cosa sobra
té
con cafeína
es
que lo tiene
cafeína
pero
no
tiene tan
mucho
cafeína
como
café.
Café
me hace
saltar
y correr
cuando
quiero
escribir
o estudiar.
Café
me hace
dormir
y descansar
cuando
quiero
saltar
o correr.
Café
me hace
escribir
y estudiar
cuando
quiero
dormir
o descansar.
La
cosa sobra
té
con cafeína
es
que no lo
tiene
tan mucho
cafeína
como café.
Té
me hace
calma
y tranquila
cuando
todo mi
trabajo
me ha
rabiado.
Té
me hace
escribir
con fuerte
cuando
mi estrés
ha
robado mi
imaginación.
Té
me hace
sonreír
donde
café
me
haga
querer
llorar
con
tema.
Café
me da
dolor
de mente.
Té
destruye
mi
pena.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Morning Haiku - 09-04-12
Earl Grey, Batch Number
T-400108
Cream, Sugar, Honey
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Escribo - 08-30-12
En los suenos
de día,
en las tazas de té
y café,
en puertos abiertos,
en ventanas brillas,
en relojes con alas como
un pájaro,
en cuadernos sin escriba
y lapices preparados,
en libros en libros en libros
y en leyendo
y en tarea,
en las esperas del futuro,
en las dudas del presente,
en cada cabeza
y pregunta
y palabra,
en cada acción y
toma de té,
en cerebros
con luces de cada color
y otros más,
en los sueños
de día,
escribo.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Tea High - 10/11/11
I sip smooth silk
from a sheep-shaped
tea cup,
mellowing green one round,
drowsy apple cinnamon chamomile
the next time I pour
smooth silk
to a sheep-shaped
tea cup.
Two small spoons of sugar,
a dash of half and half,
sip deeply,
drink kindly.
Eyes droop slightly,
the tea opening your soul.
All around, the family
snaps and clashes,
bordering on fights,
but all I can say is,
“Tea makes me happy.”
And how it does.
Smooth silk
warming frosty heart,
soothing sad insides,
relaxing the over-active,
ever-worrying,
constantly-running mind
with the sweet of sugar,
velvet of a dash of half and half,
and the chamomile goodness.
Glorious green tea needs a refill.
Set the rusty red kettle on the burner,
wait for the whistle
to answer your prayers
of the drink you
need to keep calm and happy.
Bring forth genuine joy
despite the devastating dirges
and boisterous bellowing
echoing in the tiny kitchen
for this smooth silk
from a sheep-shaped
tea cup
has brought onto my soul
a blanket of herbal drugs
that mellow each sharp word
so it hits my ears as cotton.
I should drink more tea.
from a sheep-shaped
tea cup,
mellowing green one round,
drowsy apple cinnamon chamomile
the next time I pour
smooth silk
to a sheep-shaped
tea cup.
Two small spoons of sugar,
a dash of half and half,
sip deeply,
drink kindly.
Eyes droop slightly,
the tea opening your soul.
All around, the family
snaps and clashes,
bordering on fights,
but all I can say is,
“Tea makes me happy.”
And how it does.
Smooth silk
warming frosty heart,
soothing sad insides,
relaxing the over-active,
ever-worrying,
constantly-running mind
with the sweet of sugar,
velvet of a dash of half and half,
and the chamomile goodness.
Glorious green tea needs a refill.
Set the rusty red kettle on the burner,
wait for the whistle
to answer your prayers
of the drink you
need to keep calm and happy.
Bring forth genuine joy
despite the devastating dirges
and boisterous bellowing
echoing in the tiny kitchen
for this smooth silk
from a sheep-shaped
tea cup
has brought onto my soul
a blanket of herbal drugs
that mellow each sharp word
so it hits my ears as cotton.
I should drink more tea.
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