Coffee!?

coffee good

Yes amigo, here, have a big cup of your favorite coffee.



:wink:

The Caffein


I'm on the edge, I'm on caffeine
No conversations, only screams.
I could cut down, but not today
my mind is racing, miles away.


There's just one thing that's on my mind.
It keeps me going all the time.
It's not the symptom, it's not the cause
that makes me drive against the law.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I try to sleep, it's late at night.
My eyes are closed, but I'm uptight.
My last "cup-a-joe" was after six,
a temptation great to serve my fix.


Who's to blame for my demise
that keeps me troubled til sunrise?
It's not outrageous, nothing queer,
it's not a joint or glass of beer


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I'm at Joe's Diner at quarter til dawn.
I see a new waitress clocking on.
It's just my luck, she's serving me,
and asks me gently, "Coffee or Tea".


Before I spoke, she jumped the gun,
and thought she'd guess it, just for fun.
"You'll have the decaf, I can tell."
I said, "Your Satan, go to hell!"


I just want caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I built an alter to coffee high.
It's from my backyard to the sky.
Some say I'm crazy, some say I'm dumb.
Where is this love of coffee from?


It's from the drug inside the bean.
It's from the holy drug caffeine!
It's not the flavor, or how it looks.
It's not from pictures found in books.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I'd like to know who devised this trend,
to suck the caffeine from nature's blend.
I'm not the mayor, not the lawyer, or judge,
but from my convictions, I shall not budge.


On the subject of coffee, that's what I mean,
and absurd removal of caffeine.
What makes my love of coffee grow?
What picks me up when I feel low?


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


Some go for decaf, they think it's cool.
Some say their doctor made this rule.
Some dude in L.A. must have made this up
because he couldn't handle a single cup.


That's where all the trends begin,
just like that codependant binge.
The world will suffer for this mistake,
for sucking life from something great.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


Coffee..... my drug of choice.
It's my only dominant voice.
Inside my head and body too,
it commands the actions that I do.


Drive to work, or drive to play,
just remember where your loyalties lay.
I'm ruled by coffee, I'm not ashamed,
there's not one person I can blame.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I drink coffee when I wake.
It goes with every breath I take.
I pray to coffee every day.
My devotion to it never strays.


My love for people comes and goes.
My love for life I'll never know.
There's one thing certain, that's for sure.
My love of coffee will endure.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


Caffeine is special, and radical too.
It's not confined to any rules,
like "i before e except after c".
It's got our language on it's knees!


It rhymes with "fiend" and "feeling mean".
It's friends with drugs like nicotine.
I don't pretend to be refined,
and drink great coffee all the time.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


It's a ritual of a religious kind.
An act of worship I don't mind!
I'll light a candle on my knees
if it continues to fulfill my needs.


It has its bad points, people say,
"it's addictive, it makes you crave."
But I respect that, and love it too,
it gives my edge an attitude.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


In the morning, when I rise,
I've got that sleep crap in my eyes.
I find it hard to walk or talk.
I can't complain, its no one's fault.


There is one thought that keeps me up,
the thought of having my first cup.
Lots of coffee, make it strong.
I drink it strong the whole day long.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


After lunch my body drags,
my inspirational spirits sags.
I need a lift, a little edge
to keep my mind from total vedge.


To start me up and feel brand new,
I'll have another cup or two.
Its like I start another day,
and sixty cents is all I pay.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


It don't take Einstein or Sherlock Holmes
to figure out Im not alone.
There are many here on Planet Earth
who make their coffee house a church.


They might deny it and say I'm wrong,
but we all sing the same old song.
If the price of coffee goes sky high,
we'll pay that price until we die.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


I could go on forever, amen.
I could go on til there is no end.
I could always add an extra verse,
my love of coffee is perverse.


I'm not a poet, and I know it,
but I'm an addict, and I show it.
If I was silent, I'd be destroyed.
I must scream out and make my noise.


It's just the caffeine and nothing more.
It's just the caffeine that I adore.


Copyright 1995, BADBOB New Haven, CT.
Reprinted with permission.

Yellow Coat
Two Coffee Paintings Tell a Short Story

By Myron Joshua  


The tattered yellow coat still keeps me warm in the winter. Maybe it's not the coat..but the fresh brewed coffee that provides the warmth. Or perhaps the memories.

For a half century this coat, now draped heavily on my shoulders, has embraced me.



In the early days, after the Great War, the coat tails flew wildly in the wind as I dashed hither and thither trying to get my business going. I, a dapper young man, full of vigor with little time to spare. There was a world to conquer.

My arms flung out wide, as if to take the world in. Spinning, lashing, grinding the chilly air - alive.

My coat, flying open: A splash of color-bright and blatant-not to be missed. As sharp and poignant as my recently downed espresso.

The Stazione Centrale in Milano was my second home..and the trains I hopped were my life line. The rumbling of the train, the sound of the steam powered engines, the rush I felt at each voyage: they were the fuel that kept me going.

Up in the morning and on my way...a quick cup of coffee (coffee is espresso, nothing else) down the hatch. My fuel, just like the train needed its to plow its way through the Po Valley.

Nothing like it! The marvelously designed Victoria Arduino espresso machine sitting at the Station. A looming hunk of polished metal, eagle topped-with wings spread wide and a face filled with determination.

Here was the essence of modern urban life: motion, change, strength and intensity. Forward-onward. Cup after cup...we were young busy men with no time to spare.

Now, 50 years later, I sit stolidly, solidly in my small room preparing a different cup. Alone with my few utensils, I sit and slowly grind the beans - freshly roasted. The same beans but a different brew, no longer spurting out of the fantasmographic espresso machine.



Now, slowly and delicately the bean and I go through the process...

roasted in the flat iron pan..
room fills with smoke and heaviness
metamorphising beans
from green to brown
intense aromas fill my nose.

Grinder held firmly between my knees, my large heavy hands slowly turning with the turning of time. Each bean cracks and turns to small particles plummeting into the wooden drawer.

I turn into myself and appreciate the nuances: shades of brown, aromas and the feel of the beans breaking down between the burrs of the grinder.

The space between my arms, my knees, my body-a cubic void, a gut of space, like the innards of the grinder itself.

A pot on the fire gently brewing the coffee. filling the room with new sensations that I absorb.

Sitting on my low chair.

Slowly ingesting the brew...cherishing each slurp that slides down my throat.

Here too is a journey, intense movement.

I am going nowhere special...just inward, wrapped in my yellow coat.


The poster Victoria Arduino by, Leonetto Cappiello (1922)

The painting Coffee Grinder by Jaggu Prasad (born 1963)

Say WHAT!!!

Coffee will get you all the time. So much so that you are coming and going all at the same time.

I think we need to do an intervention with AE . . .

Intervention What is it, when, why, where What did I do Is it good I hope so Will it hurt

I'm drinking coffee on sunday, reading stories from strangers.

I'm drinking peet's brand top blend.

We're not going to hurt you, AE, we're just going to take you off the calf-feen for a while . . .

What do you call a cow who's had an abortion?

De-calf-inated.

Buenas tardes Senor Set. El domingo pacifico a usted ya todo.

El domingo= the sunday

Pacifico= Peaceful

usted= you

toda= all or everyone or everything

Actually, i do know enough Spanish to have understood that sentence, though just barely. May your coffee reveries lead you into pleasant mental pastures, Boss . . .

Paz de amigos de cafe.

Peace, friends, coffee.

Are you calling me a cow KK, I'm a baby cow, a cutie calf, and I don't want to get De-calf-inated

Amigo, did you read my spanish poem in the original writing section?

No but I looked at it when you first put it there. I can't read spanish. I'm a bocho.

You can write it. What is a bocho

I go to a spanish translation website then come back and pretend I can speak spanish. Your blowing my cover, I'm unable to lie.

A bocho is an Americanized mexican. Their looked down on by traditional mexicans from mexico.

do you speak spanish? How and why?

For shame I never heard of a bocho before. Do you know any of those webs that translate in Greek, and Japanese

Are you latin? Why do you speak spanish and english.

No I don't know those webs. I'm not pretending to be japones (spanish for japanese)

My friends were called pochos when I was with them in Mexico... or, to be more specific, pocha..