I sat six hours in a car
To go and visit somewhere far.
It didn’t rain. It didn’t snow.
I just thought you ought to know.
(Not actually my dinner).
Tag Archives: food
But It’s Organic!
It had an extra leg, I think,
And several extra eyes.
I don’t know how it got into my drink.
Oh look at that… it flies!
Filed under Poems
Sermon On The Scale
Blessed are the cheesemakers
Who turn milk into gold
By putting it in barrels
‘Til it’s really, really old
(And occasionally covered in mold).
Blessed are the coffee roasters
Who make heaven out of beans.
They harvest the energy of life
Among the coffee greens.
(To top it off, their uniform is partially blue jeans).
Blessed are the chocolatiers
Who shape, box, and decant.
For them my praise has no end,
And neither does my rant.
(Their uniform also includes a form of denim pant).
Blessed are the ice cream men,
And ice cream women too.
They make a food that’s wonderful,
And you don’t even have to chew!
(It seems that most good things in life come from the things that moo).
Blessed are the liposuctionists
Who make the other four
A possibility, and let
Me eat enough for four.
(And now my sermon is complete. No go and eat some more).
Filed under Poems
Lone Survivor
I was driven this afternoon
To Lazy Susan isle
Where I hoped my friends and I
Could make our masters smile.
Alas, on our arrival
Our happy plan went wrong.
Our masters ate poor Jell-o,
And our fair Hostess, Ding-Dong.
I heard the screams of ice cream,
And the dying shrieks of cake.
I heard the moans of lady fingers
(Though I think those were fake).
How I survived I do not now,
But I’m alive to sing this ballad
Of the Lazy Susan massacre.
Yours truly,
Kale Salad
What’s for Breakfast?
Today is the Ides of March,
When Caeser was made invalid.
We celebrate with leftover pie,
Orange Julius, and Caeser salad.
Filed under Poems
Were I A Tiger
Were I a tiger in a cage
I think I would be filled with rage,
And when the humans gave me food
I’d return it, halfway chewed.
The human doctors would have a hunch
Why I refused to eat my lunch,
And they would come inside my pen,
And I’d enjoy the meat of men.
Were I a tiger, I’d be happy, yet
I’m not a tiger; I’m a vet.
Filed under Poems
Wizard Chow
Bacon-and-egg-flavored cereal
And a glass of milk-flavored water.
That’s the last time I have breakfast
With a tipsy Harry Potter.
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
Big Reggie’s Last Stand
I’ve finished the sweeping,
The mopping, the shining,
For those who arrive
For our casual dining.
I’ve whipped up the chicken,
The fruits and the veggies,
Prepared to serve unto
The clientele of “Big Reggie’s.”
I’ve washed all the napkins,
Plates, forks, and knives
For those who, by eating,
Will lengthen their lives.
I’ve waited all day
Since the first whiff of dawn,
Yet no one will eat
At the box on my lawn.
Filed under Poems
Jungle Charity
I was lost in the jungle last Saturday night.
My makeup was smudgy, my hair was a fright,
I was starving and thirsty and crawling along
When I heard an odd noise, not unlike a gong.
So I thirstily crawled and disheveledly waddled
While thinking of water, whether flowing or bottled,
‘Til I came to the source of the almost-gong sound
And was faced with a fellow who was quite musclebound.
I spoke to the fellow with a dry-throated yelp,
“Dear Fellow, I’m starving and in need of some help.”
The fellow was friendly, and offered me food.
“Here’s what I’ve got. Just take what sounds good.”
He offered me me larvae and elephant tongue,
Some organic fungus “with plenty of fung,”
Some mandible stew, which made me quite skittish,
And some discolored mush. (I assumed it was British).
What a predicament! What could I do?
I swallowed a spoonful of mandible stew.
Well, I’m still alive, and I’m glad that I am,
But I wish I had waited ’til he brought out the ham.
Filed under Uncategorized
The Daily Travesty 