This Is Just To Say

littlehonda:

I have eaten
the cakepops
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for some shit I don’t care about

I’m not sorry
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

cakepop is delicious metaphor

quick reminder to my writer friends

just went and checked the Tumblr Terms of Service…

anything you post on here, Tumblr owns the rights to. original stuff, then, no longer belong to you once you’ve posted it on the site.

thought you should be reminded in case you’re posting anything you plan to make money with!

Thirteen Ways of Drinking at a Starbucks

artifist:

(revised 15/12/2011)

I.
the journey 
of coffee 
is from tap 
to cup

II.
on the street
lurid neon plastic bursts
from the buildings

& i’m surprised by the
Big Issue seller huddling
in the cold,

like she is invading this
shopping aisle
                   & across
the road the scent of
Starbucks samples entices me

III.
a cafeteria coffee is worth £1.30
a Gregg’s coffee is worth £1.80
a Costa coffee is worth £2.35
a Starbucks coffee is worth £2.50

IV.
inside Starbucks
   the same art nouveau, the
same jazz soundtrack, the same green
cracked sofas, green wallpaper,
green tables and green aprons,
   the same green logos, the same
original features of the building
(the alcove, the double-level, the door)
lovingly kept, smothered in green

V.
fromNewcomers Alter Northeast Neighbourhood,’
The Oregonian, December 13th, 1999.

The Irvington neighborhood, 
well along the gentrification path,
is just south of the new Starbucks. 

To the north is Sabin, where houses with stylish
three-tone paint jobs are 
steadily gaining on houses 
with security bars 
across the windows.

From 1990 to 1996, 
the latest year census data are available, 

Sabin’s housing prices soared 136 percent. 
Average household income grew about 5 percent after inflation. 

And the neighborhood lost 
about 300 African American residents 
while gaining about 150 whites. 

VI.
Bitches Brew plays
on the speakers, the 
noticeboard lists community
events, in that corner a woman writes
her first book of poetry

we are not the 
counter-culture, we are 
over the counter 
culture

VII.
FOR THE PRICE OF A CUP OF COFFEE
(from Starbucks passion for coffee: A Starbucks coffee cookbook)

You can chat with friends,
join in heated discussions or
read in solitude. You can
study, sketch or write.
You can listen to music or
hear poetry recited. You can play
cards, checkers,
backgammon, chess.

VIII.
how did we pretend
to not ask for dates
before Starbucks?

IX.
HOW YOUR COFFEE IS MADE: A DIAROMA

here in the first tray the beans
are green. as you can see, 
by the fourth tray 
they have turned brown. this is 
how coffee is made. 

X.
i spend £2.50, from which

the cashier earns 20p
the VAT costs 50p

starbucks spends 83p,
takes £1.17,

and the farmer makes 
1 and a quarter pence,

which is known as
fair trade

XI. 
find the taste of coffee lacking? don’t worry!

cover that nagging sensation
by looking at our yucca plants
our solid, wooden tables
our green seats, walls, and logos
our photographs 
of ruddy brown & smiling black faces
close your eyes & enjoy that
all-natural taste

XII.
STATISTICS:
being starbucks ceo is

  • 460 times harder than being a store manager,
  • 1100 times harder than being a barista,
  • 7800 times harder than being an ethiopian.

XIII.
HOWARD SCHULTZ’S PERSONAL COFFEE RECIPE:

take 10 hours work
value it at $9
lay on a hot patio for 7 days
to process into $47

roast at 300 degrees for 7 minutes
(the beans will pop
and start to brown,
                            seeping a bitter oil)
continue roasting for 3 more minutes,
until you have a value of $5160

serve strong,
no milk, no sugar,

put it in an espresso cup
and call it black man’s misery

what use is hiding?

to pledge to live truly:
that is a burden I wish upon everyone
and expect from no one
but myself.

perspective puts people
in places you’re surprised to find them

like so far past a petty crush
at points of rants and secrets and sharing
to become an important daily presence

like splashing in the shallow end
kicking rocks and pretending to be weighed down
by your faults

like a distant memory of who you were
before you transformed into who you are
a pleasant reminder of human goodness

like caring for you in all the wrong ways
heavy with fear and hurt by your rejection
of a childhood loved but gone

like beautiful when you turn your head
just so, where no one else seems to look
instead of at their darker side