Untitled For Unknown Reasons

[theshycrockpot]

Work

Another day

Off to work again

Another ritual thought

Runs through the mind

I don’t want to work today

To stress

To prepare

To execute

To earn my weight in salt

Another day spent

Performing the ritual of working

Another day

Different but the same as any other day

To feed

To nourish

To satisfy

Yet all this work

To advance as a cook

These things are sacrificed

To earn my little bit of salt to take home

Well I’m off to work again

To build up my little pile of salt

[theshycrockpot]

Luck

Rumor has it that she has no mercy They say she does what she pleases And that those blessed shouldn't be so thankful For she controls fate from both ends Having her blessing is a curse Each positive has a negative The light has the darkness The alpha and omega She'll allow one to cheat death, with a sacrifice The curse will provide cycles of great fortune Followed by periods of destitution However, as the artist manipulates the world To a more favorable perspective We too can take advantage of the curse After all, balance reveals the sun after the storm

[theshycrockpot]

Attleboro

My soul is restless Yearning to see what's around the corner My mind wanders beyond my body's limit My eyes constantly searching Yet my heart is rooted in a single spot Planted there, cared for and sprouted With immortal vines that lead the way back The heart is docile like a doe in the wooden grove This city wears the mask of banality But upon close inspection Underneath the veil, peculiarity dots the city Each location given many sentiments Within each spot, a different story to hear Within this one city, many sights to see More perspectives to explore Within this one city, Home is the resounding connection that holds everything together

[theshycrockpot]

Beautiful memorial for Billy, that he is resting In paradise

[vasilinaorlova]

if I see you, my dear darling,

on the street, or in a hotel room

so similar to the one where I did not see you, I will

walk through you, and nothing but a wave of cold air

would ring through my bones that wanted to be pressed so hard

[theshycrockpot]

Novel

It’s natural to question one’s existence But from the information I’ve collected I feel that we’re here to observe from a distance To record and jot down what nature’s directed

The finest spot to observe and report is aboard the metro Many of us with stories to share Tales, Folklore, and Legends, many to follow All available to those who can pay the fare

Nothing in this life is gained without sacrifice There’s a price to be paid for the small stuff Lest all that is left is degraded merchandise This compromise grants these stories their gruff

Well now, onwards begin your novel Will you let others dictate while you scribe Here here, there’s a seat on the mettle Tell me now, what is it that you wish to transcribe

[murderbeginsintheheart]

Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. But one thing that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.

Sigmund Freud (via murderbeginsintheheart)

[theshycrockpot]

Journey

As the sun sends its regards And the moon settles in

The transition signals our departure We head off, bruised and burnt After such a tedious service

The checks are closed And the nobles are satisfied Resetting our battle stations For tomorrow’s Service

We all part ways Only to see each other the following day But for now we make our Journey To the only place where our bodies can rest The only place where our hearts truly reside.

Home, Our paths are marked and true We are the birds heading south No maps, no direction Just our intuition Can ensure our safe return

[theshycrockpot]

Dreaming

What exactly goes on When the moon is out and about And when the insects sing before dawn In the lulled minds, full of doubt When we attend the cabaret Of our own nocturnal sprites They use our desires to fuel their screenplays But who gave them these rights The truth is a spirit that shouldn't be chased Although it doesn't drink any easier It should be come across, encased Valued and after close study, held dear To understand truth is to realize our dreams Whether they are or not what we want to accept As reality performs, we watch from the beams Ready to bring home the complimentary percept

[compoundchem]

For #NationalFragranceDay, why not check out some of the aroma chemistry posts on the site? Find them all here: https://goo.gl/C3pMfv

[theshycrockpot]

Butter Poached Lobster, Vanilla Carrot Puree, Tarragon Glazed Baby Vegetables, Lobster Puffs

[elprofesore]

the leaf pile

we spend so much time,

never stopping to look

at the pile of leaves

in the corner by the garbage cans,

slowly rotting to black;

and if only we were rich,

we could hire somebody

to take it away

so we wouldn’t have to ignore it;

but the thing is,

I like to look at the leaves,

and feel the wind,

and consider how time

blows us all away.

to me it is a beauty

I look for,

while the rest of the world

is ashamed to admit

it even exists.

i take a deep breath,

and wonder how long

any of this can last.

[vasilinaorlova]

But where can people buy your book thoygh

That’s a great question! On Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Holy-Robots-Vasilina-Orlova/dp/0991600924/

[mayahan]

Creative Dioramas by Tatsuya Tanaka

[theshycrockpot]

Seared Scallops, Broccolini, Cippolini, Fennel Orange Quinoa Salad, Chive Butter Sauce

[litadoolan]

Pink sun rips Clouds that tip Into shapes that flow Through angel wings that know Pure light surrounds And grounds Our hearts that doubt And heads that account

[theshycrockpot]

Seared Scallops, Saffron Poached Potato, Cippolini Onions, Fennel, Chorizo, Broccolini