Fried Lamb-Chops Poem by Gert Strydom

Fried Lamb-Chops



I sit in a restaurant do order lamb-chops and chips
where the waitress do walk away with bouncing buttocks,
do talk to another waitress and again do secretively catch my eye,
the noise of the many voices of that multitude
that come and eats at this eating-place,
their laughter and a baby screaming blue murder
for moments do usurp my thoughts.

A Mega-Coffee is served with the meal,
the pretty waitress does smile at me,
it's as if her smile
and the blouse of which the buttons are open
do say much more than her words,
headlines on the newspapers that she does bring
do want to jump from the front-page into my brain
about tornados, tsunamis and earthquakes
and it does appear as if the world is bursting out of her seams,
do want to shake human existence
like a dog does with water from its back,
reports of battle-tanks that gnash through the streets of other countries,
terrorist that rape people and do annihilate whole nations,
of farmers that are robbed tortured and killed
do let me think that the world is coming to its end.

The lamb-chops and chips do taste divine,
the waitress is young, pretty and seductive
as if in a mere moment we can get life-long happiness
and even this thought is tinned
as if a relationship and passion
can be put into a tinned can
and although certainly she do make love with men
there is innocence to her
and the cross on her neck says that she does know Jesus.

The lights in the restaurant becomes dim
while on a small stage
a woman sings sad ballads,
as if her heart is breaking with each word
and on the table a lamp burns,
she gets a chance to rest
and the lights do remain like this.

The waitress is given a break
and comes and sit right next to me
with her short skirt that does slide up her pretty legs
and it's a sure thing that she is trying to court me,
do want to give me more intimate attention,
where I do order for her just what she wants to eat and drink
and she walks to the restrooms to powder her nose
but before I do eat the last piece of lamb-chop

I do wonder about that lamb whose meat I am enjoying,
what did that poor animal know of life?

Did he also feel the sun,
jumped around from pure joy,
did he look at the butterflies and bees,
to his heart's content eat of the grass?

The waitress does return,
do sit much closer to me
with eyes full of promises
and I am astonished to find her hand in mine.

I tell her about growing up on a farm
and when we were children
how my mother, my brother Japie and I
and uncle Frank and aunty Leen and our cousin Francois
did go and visit uncle Pieter on his farm
where our cousins Danie and Frikkie do live.

How on that farm
we had to slaughter a sheep one morning,
how without any consternation it did lie peaceful
while for of peace without any consternation
while death did come to that animal.

How Francois who was town-bred did cry and shout:
"You killers! You hellish killers! "
How later we did skin it
and that meat was prepared for a meal
of which Francois did also feast
as if killing was forgotten.

She was also raised on a farm
but was protect too much to her liking
from the wild cruel world
and the evil, the pleasures and dangers of it
but now she does want to experience everything
as if she is searching for something
that can bring more meaning to her life.

With our conversation her one hand
did under the table start to creep up my thigh
while she clings to my strong hand
with her other hand,
do play with a finger with the lines
and sits in a way that one of her breasts is uncovered
which to my astonishment is without a brassiere
and the shadows bring magic to it
as it's secretive
where it does peep at me with a beautiful large nipple,
where it does resemble a young rose bud
and her legs are spread and open
with the very short skirt
that does glide higher and higher up.

Her blue eyes are a sea of emotions
with the shadows and light
that sometimes makes them brighter
and at times do draw lines over her face
in which very easily I can get lost
and her lips are open and inviting
very near to my face
and on the a lamp does burn
so very romantically
as if this is a meeting place for lovers.

In my thoughts I do see that lamb again
and it does remind me about the Lamb of all lambs
whose flesh did hang and whose blood did flow
and who did die for my and her sins,
for the sins of the whole world
did perish on a cross,
how the curtain of the temple
did tear open
and the lamb did escape to safety,

about the earth that did become dark,
about the thunder that were bashing down,
how there had been a large earthquake
and even the dead did rise,

how selfless His love was
that even those that murdered him He did forgive
and did not want to hold them accountable
and that the heathen Roman soldier
did see Him for who he really was
as the Son of the omnipotent Lord God
and that He did rise by Himself
while the Father and Holy Spirit
was also involved in this wonderful act
but that every one of us was involved in His death
as inherent we are sinful
and for this reason we are the hellish murderers
of the sinless Son of God
who is God.

I smell her perfume and her own smell
that tells me that she is very randy
and her lips are open as if they can give a thousand kisses
while I do tell her all of these things
and she says that she does know this very well
do love Jesus and I see that she is sincere.

© Gert Strydom

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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