Alas... Keurig Green Tea

So to a new town I've moved and in so doing I've lost all that I knew...
Well, some.
As in where to get a bag of organic loose leaf green tea to chew,
or stew.
And now, wanting to drink some,
I find myself in my new office staring at
small. plastic. cups.
Single serving mega corp green tea with white tea for smoothness?
And so I put you in the machine and tell you how many ounces to make me.
And then.... squirt.
Tea.
How is that possible.
No steeping?
A thousand years of tea culture boiled down to SQUIRT.
or more accurately, grumble grumble buzz, squirt, froth, squirt sqeeeee.....
Harumph.
Tea.

Ode to Oatmeal

Oatmeal, how nice you are to me.
Almond bits a bit of maple syrup?
To me that is delish.
Me, you know the one who eats you for breakfast?
Evenly heated in a microwave of my choosing you are
Always warm and tasty,
Love, lust, call it what you will.

Ode to Homemade Yogurt

Its been a while Homemade Yogurt...
I've sorta been seeing someone else.
Well..... more like someone-s plural.
Relax, calm down... I know.... I, know.
Mainly it was just one other yogurt.
I just needed to make sure you were really the one.
Look, I love you, but you're not like the other yogurts, with their stabilizers and their fancy additives.
It's hard out there for a single guy with all of the other yogurts.
They're all so easy, just throw money at them and they go home with you.
All the exotic choices.
But....
You're simple, and I can spice things up however I want with you.
Sure, the relationship takes a lot more work than with the other yogurts.
But I feel so much better about you in the end.

Ode to 6 months of Doom

For six months you forgot
exactly what you thought
you were doing with you
your goals held so true
Were left aside,
and meanwhile, your hide
got bigger and bigger
so much so that it triggered
a resurgence of care
plucked seemingly out of thin air,
for eating steamed veggies, fruit,
and things more like protein shakes instead
of bread, pasta, cheese, fat and bread,
and bring home a sense that I ought
to forestall this temporary feeling of pants too tight,
and spread joy and not the doom.

Ode to Some Dropped Apples:

It seemed rare to find in this particular place,
apples of your standing and grace.
And in my joy of such a find,
I make a mistake. A totally understandable mistake.
Unforeseen, and minor to some....
To me, it was unfortunate.
Well that is to say my hands were filled with bags of peaches and nectarines.
So when I added four or five huge apples to the bag.
I dropped it.
And in your sickly fall I heard the imminent smushing.
and then...
Well... I heard the smushing.
But I bought you anyway,
because who leaves a bag of smushed apples for the grocery to deal with?
So now, eating you, crispy and fresh,
is a little bit like eating a puzzle.
As I stuff you into muzzle,
I turn and look, feel, poke, prod, only to discover,
that like us all,
your faults make your sweet bits... that much better.

Ode to Some Coffee:

Why do you build me up
Buttercup, baby
Just to let me down, let me down??
Oh to love my coffee brown,
and a scoop of protein just to go around.
Two large mugs,
chug-a-lugged,
My tummy aches,
time to put on the breaks
and no more coffee for me.
Why do you build me up,
Don't break my heart!!!

Ode to some Haricot Vert:

Aubergine...
No, with her I have no affair.
'Tis only with you,
Haricot.
What fair recompense your sweetness is,
I shan't forbear from proclaiming my love.
but i find myself wordless,
my mind and tongue clamped,
barred, shut from proper use,
like mole eyes,
sudden to the sun,
Comme le lapin, je mâche
Le Sigh.

Ode to Yesterday's Protein Shake:

There you sit, forgotten.
Heading way south of rotten.
Because I ate an egg and cheese burrito this morning,
I didn't clean you well,
and there you sit scorning,
The fact i didn't wash you with dish washing gel...

What am I to do?
You probably smell terrible,
and i don't like things of your ilk,
You know, smelling of long forgotten milk,
so maybe I'll leave you for tomorrow,
when in my sorrow,
I'll pour you out
and without a doubt,
hold my breath
so as not to smell,
what I should have finished
yesterday with a groan and grimace.

Ode to a Cauldron of Apples:

Awaken,I did, to the smells of cookies a baked,
and urges of filling my mouth wide-agape,
with baked goods from yore
and regrets of my forlorn workout the night before,
I bought you apples pink lady, and tiny galas galore.
But no, in your cauldron you sit,
reminding me of the diet I quit,
and the terrible things I've been doomed,
in the past 3 months I have consumed,
enough calories in me,
to feed a family of three,
and this morning alone I ate plenty of dough,
a veritable slough,
of baked dough in bar form,
that now sitting here... my norm.
All I want is to drink
this terrible orange-ade and think,
to bring myself back from the brink,
and fix what's been making my heart ache.

Ode to some English Breakfast Tea

To make a change one must first....
Change.
You see, there I was, in the morning thinking about tea, and beverages,
and amongst the veritable multitude you sat.
Waiting patiently at the back of the tea basket.
Yeah, there is a tea basket, and you were toward the hind end.
And to be honest,
Hind end is an apt description.
I mean you're okay.
You're not the worst tea I've had.
But lets face it, when your hotness faded,
There was nothing left between us.
Like a train, the change... is coming down the track.
Chooo Choo!!!
Sink and Trash Can Express....All aboard!!!!
I think maybe I'll make some Green tea.

Ode to a morning Croissant #2

I don't know how to feel about you.
In that its hard for me to construe,
the feelings I have within,
for pastry with layers so thin,
and lacking fruit or sugar sticky-sweet,
and though i think you're hard to beat,
I should have tried to abstain,
and eat something more in the vein,
of my protein shake,
which could alleviate,
this terrible stout,
guilt I'm having about,
eating you
instead of something healthy and true.

Ode to a "Homer Simpson Donut":

Honestly, I don't even like donuts.
I just wanted to be Homer Simpson.
I thought this donut,
the donut of Homer.
The great grail of Homer-dom was my greatest leap toward that goal.
But now, crushed by the reality,
that Homer's ideal has pink frosting, and you have black.
I am lost.
Sitting at my desk, alone, no plate, begging to be eaten,
you cannot fulfill my destiny.
But, you'll probably taste fine anyway.
So much for being Homer.
D'oh!!!

Ode to a Box of Mike and Ike's

You, in the green box!
Yes you, all of you!
Little, Green, and Yellow, Orange... RED!!
Yeah you, the RED ONES!!!
Yes you destructive little guys, like... Like....
LIKE the huns!!
You hide in your big green box, all small and fruity, sweet and sticky
Waiting for me to falter.
Waiting for me to lose my dreams to alter,
my health and well being,
Original fruits flavor?
You must be scheming!
You sit there beaming!
And your bright colors abound!
But you make me fat and round!
Go back to your box, and stay there!
Never more to see the light and air,
You think I should care?
Hah!!
You little sugary nibs, you're quite the Dandies,
Its like me with noodles,
I end up eating the whole kit and caboodle.
Yeah...
Really.
I wanna be good, and eat right,
but a box of you is like afternoon delight.

Ode to a honeycrisp Apple:

How long its been my long lost.
Crisp, sweet, cold.
You become morning breakfast.

Ode to a Salad and Dressing

Romaine, Zuchini and Celery and Broccoli.
For Green is the color of money.

Raw Beets.
For Red is the color of blood.

Parmesan shreds.
For beige is the color of Earth.

An impromptu Balsamic Vinaigrette.
For black is the color of doom,

And "Et tu, Caesar" will never do.

Stir and mix,
Mix and stir,
Toss.
For chaos is.... The color of ALL.

Ode to some late night pie:

I wanted blueberry.
You said you had Boysenberry.
I ordered Boysenberry.
You gave me Blueberry.

The check said: Boice & Berry Pie
A LA MODE

A boice, and a berry.
With a little dairy.

A mystery... Boice, about you, tell me more,
are you delish down to your core?
Could you be better than my blueberry,
Such a thing could not be, or else.... Never More.

Ode to Mashed Cauliflower:

Mashed, Bashed, Smashed, Crashed,
Crushed, Smushed, Mushed,
Buttery, Garlicky,
Delish.
Omm,

I am BigRed destroyer of veggies.

Ode to a mistakenly purchased jar of creamy peanut-butter:

Seriously...
No... look, just hear me out.
You...
Yes you, in your near identical window dressing.
Similar in every... single... way...
You... Are... an impostor!
I made a mistake, but only because you and crunchy look so very similar.
In fact, unless I am paying attention
in the peanut-butter section,
I
Might
Buy
You.
And in so doing,
I will ruin a weeks worth of PB & J sandwiches.
No amount of double deckering, potato chip, fresh fruit,
ENHANCEMENT!!!
Will save these sandwiches from you.
You are an iceberg to my Titanic, a spark to my Hindenburg,
I hope, we shan't meet again.
Life is too short, and you,
make
me...
Meh.

Ode to a Croissant

I was so hungry I could have eaten a shoe.
But in this case you'll just have to do,
buttery and nice,
what would be right?
Perhaps just a slice,
if a slice,
were and option,
for me and you.

Ode to Lunch

Once upon a time I dreamt of meat all ground,
patty formed with french fried potatoes oily and golden brown,
But now for lunch I eat fruit and protein
So I can become a man lithe and lean,
Point Seven One pounds.
Melon, Pineapple, Strawberries, Tuna, corn, and chickpeas,
A list of delish fulfilling...Yummery please.
For tomorrow is another day, of protein shakes,
workouts and muscle aches,
and dreams of being not the man who was both red and round.

Ode to Frozen Fruit Bits:

Alas, Snacks,
You are deft and fell enemies.
Fresh, dried, pressed, crushed, popped, baked, fried, chocolate covered...
Frozen Fruit you are my knight in shining armor.
Frosty, tastee, sweet.
Pineapple how do you get chopped so uniformly, so perfectly triangular?
Blueberries, Blackberries, Raspberries, and Straw.
My fingers are sticky sweet, frozen and purple.
Alas, I am home.

Ode to some recent fruit:

Borrowed Bananas, are mighty nice,
better than a piece of ice,
Frozen fruit you're pretty neat,
and some might say you can't be beat,
but being me, prone to flights of hyperbole,
will tell you now,
I cannot love you more,
than my tiny apples right down to their core.

Ode to his hubba bubba strawberry watermelon gum:

You, the last of your tribe,
tropical punch, watermelon, bubble gum lost to a changing world.
Last of the mohicans,
you stand fearless against the grim black of eternity.
Though you are now flavorless...
and nearing your end,
Danielle Day Lewis should play you in your biopic.

Ode to a pink lady apple:

Alas, pinkest of ladies,
you are not so pink as your are pale red, dappled apple.
Thou without faults cast the first apple seed,
and plant yee an orchard,
to teach a man to fish you need an ocean...

Ode to a Disney Peach:

Its a small world after all,
where peaches frolic
toward the happiness that is my mouth
and it crushing morality,
Eh-Hem moLarity.
To die to sleep perchance to dream,
cause iiit'ssss a smaaaall world after all,
and its the ciiiiiiircle of liiiife,
and I'm one step ahead of the sword,
and you've got to pucker up your lipsss like dis, and bat your eyes like dis.
Disney dreams and peaches sweet.