Take A Bite

I'm so hungry for this guy, even his shoe leather would taste good right now...

This is a tribute to Anthony Bourdain. A very rough draft, but revised once since I posted on Jessie Carty's Make Friday Write.

Acid Notes Of Parsley And Paramount

       There was a time, before my career as a chef

       when teeth were barred on gravel and grit

       prairie wild, and wild game guesses

       boots didn’t slide so well

       and  the back of a spoon...meant lessons learned

       adventure was only a dream; then...

Bourdain rides into wide angle lenses

smoking hot, off death row requests

with back stage laughter and cooling engines 

still left gunning

to fulfill a wish, ‘live as an Englishman’

where protestant notions collect  

kindling abroad those traditional fires

questions surrounded slippery rims

as menus begin flying over courtyards

the simple answers are seasonally deep fried

after crawling back from an abyss

cross over stardom is the password

guns are cocked as the crew circle spits

word for word notions fly hungry above

scenes from the other side knock down back doors

trains never fail- rolling in with supplies in hand

blood cake comes out warm and under temp

unborn chicks slide in over easy

and are served in a sea of guilty pleasure

always floating on top with skirts jacked high

to ease slow rides downtown

pressure mounts as “chef is a cold man” death whispers

beaten and cramping and changing the days cuisine

a sprinkle of parsley is thrown and soars high

refreshing over the shoulder wishes

landing on everything left in his wake.

If you have no idea who 'Bourdain' is, well then...you get No Reservations!

I want this to go somewhere and not sure I like some of the angles...

Okay your turn to speak...