Grate and grind the sense
pretend it’s tender,
glace with lies,
then spice with fake vanilla,
poach it slender
reduce until the lard remains
serve it lukewarm
invent it’s promised.
Satan Presiding At The Infernal Council by John Martin
A second recipe for Mish at dVerse.
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December 6, 2016
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Björn Rudbergs writings 
“glace with lies” — oh, my. Perfect.
How gorgeous, despite the content:
“glace with lies,
then spice with fake vanilla”
This time, I saw “peach it slender” and thought of James and the Giant Peach, which is what I see in that picture.
The business of swindles – where somebody wins big and somebody loses … everything – is often a formula, or recipe, delivered with fake “homey” sincerity. A vivid analogy.
Oh this is dark and wonderful! He can cook things up, but they won’t be edible.
Winning doesn’t seem to be such a great thing to strive for at times especially when it’s “played” this way.
Ugh….don’t want to eat that! But the imagery is true and decisive.
Captivating meter. Love this.
Nothing left but lard makes it sound kind of like a politician, ha ha. I really loved that one
“…reduce until the lard remains…” oh my…..the liar’s web…
and then I think of the “greasy palm” of the con man…
well done! (the poem, not the temperature you want to bake it to)
Oh dear, too much of that being cooked up in our time. Clever.