Some people pour milk in their coffee.
Some people pour milk in their tea.
This morning I mixed up the orange juice and milk.
It was as you’d expect it to be.
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Tag Archives: Breakfast
You Didn’t Eat Your Broccoli, Thus…
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
Yeah, that’s a thing that Satan wants to do.
His mouth’s already watering
At the prospect of slaughtering
That tasty human spirit that is you!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
I heard him to his Mrs. Satan say
“Hey, why don’t you and me go
“Have some eggs and Human Ego
“As a nutritious snack to start the day!”
Satan has a hunch
That it’s too soon for lunch
And, by that logic, also too soon for dinner.
But they don’t sleep-in in Hell
And to start his day off well
You are the perfect portion size of sinner!
(Everybody)!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
He wants to fill his belly with your Id.
I hope you’ve read your Dante
‘Cause you’re what Satan wants. Hey!
That’s what you get for being a naughty kid!
Perfection’s Exception
The rules say nothing’s perfect,
That all things have their flaws,
But I’m pretty sure that pancakes
Always disobey such laws.
The other perfect things
As my reckoning would go
Are unfixed wrestling matches
And Las Vegas’ August snow.
Since the things I mentioned
More than likely don’t exist
I rest my case for pancakes.
(Let me know if there’s something I missed).
Filed under Poems
Traffic Jam
I put some rubber on my toast
Along with smog and frustration,
Mixed with a soupsant
Of despair and irritation.
It wasn’t a great breakfast,
But I didn’t want to shirk,
So I had toast with traffic jam
On my way to work.
An Ode to Breakfast-All-Day
Consider ye the pancake,
Round and fluffy white
Whose presence dost command ye
Not to tarry, but to bite.
Consider ye the bacon
And the eggs and sausage too,
Who existed once as animal parts,
But now only to please you.
Consider ye the cereals,
A meal which is pourable
And whose very presence
Makes prepared food deplorable.
Finish your consideration
With a piece of toasted bread
Which equals any man or lady
In its worthiness to wed.
And so with all these options
It is time that we get real:
For what purpose exists
To eat any other meal?
Filed under Poems
