My eyes were purple lightning
And lips were platinum knives.
My heart beat with a vigor
Like when rappers beat their wives.
I squeezed my hands like oranges
As my skin began to burn
And I knew to that Panda Express
I would not return.
My eyes were purple lightning
And lips were platinum knives.
My heart beat with a vigor
Like when rappers beat their wives.
I squeezed my hands like oranges
As my skin began to burn
And I knew to that Panda Express
I would not return.
Filed under Poems
I won “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire”
On Venezuelan TV.
Now I’m wondering where to spend it
And who will share the fries with me.
Filed under Poems
I’m a talent scout
For your local Mickey-D’s.
I think you may have talent
For stacking bread and meat and cheese,
So if you fail a few more classes
I hope you’ll call me please.
Filed under Poems
Instant food is great
Most bachelors would agree,
But that just seems a little too
American to me.
Now, I get that potatoes
Take a lot of time to cook.
Sometimes home cooked macaroni
Doesn’t have that chemical look.
Maybe you’re to tired
To take a cup of oats
And throw in some sugar and xanthan gum
And whatever else that floats.
So you buy a bag of chemicals
With natural oat flavor
And nuke it for 60 seconds
And for another 60, you savor.
To top it off, this overpriced
Tax on those who cannot cook
Has an old, white guy or store brand
To complete its flashy look.
Thus ends my rant on oatmeal
And the injustice derived therefrom.
Tomorrow, tune in again
For my rant on chewing gum!
Filed under Poems
It’s Fry Day at Sir Spatu-lot,
My city’s favorite dining spot.
You buy your steak by ounce or pound
Or even by the name of the cow.
If you eat ten burgers, you don’t have to pay.
That is just the Spatu-lot way.
If you eat fifty burgers in one sitting
You get to park in the handicapped spot, which is fitting.
It’s been ten years since my last Fry Day.
I was banned for bad behavior, you might say,
For when they asked what I wanted to eat
I asked for a salad without any meat.
Filed under Poems
I wanted fried rice
At a very low price
Because I was poor and young.
What other excuse
Would I have for the use
Of a menu from “Meow Tse Tung.”
Filed under Poems
Hamburger, hamburger,
Object of desire.
Cheese, mayo, and pickles
Cooked on electric fire.
Under fluorescent glow
I bite the whole-wheat shell.
My heavy heart grows lighter,
And my pocketbook as well.
Filed under Poems
I am a Princess on the run,
But not for parties and frivolous fun.
I fled for my life, ’cause here’s the thing:
I’m the daughter of the Burger King.
I loved my Mom* and trusted Daddy
Until the took my hand-heifer, Patty.
They tied her up and milked her dry,
And then I watched poor Patty die.
Every day my legs grow faster
As I run to greener pasture.
Seeking something to make life full,
Even if that’s all just bull.
*The Dairy Queen, of course.
Filed under Poems
I asked you once,
I asked you twice,
And now I ask thrice
Do you want frice with that?