Sammeeches are yummiyums
And cheekens good in bellies
And I like grapes and appleswoss
And chocolate-caramellies.
I can eat twenty tootsie rollups
And an asparagoos stawck as well.
I’m a master of munching and yummiyums
But not twalking or nowing how to spell.
Filed under Poems
The waitress took our order
With a smile on her face
And then apparently decided
To desert the human race.
More than half an hour later
We’ve killed a pitcher of beer.
Our senses are still present
Though the help has disappeared.
It’s midnight at the bar,
Then it’s one here at the grill.
Our belly’s good and empty
But our hope is holding still.
We’re waiting on our sandwich
And it’s 2025,
And the chef has just confirmed
That the waitress is alive.
My beard is grey, my hair is gone,
I drool and shift and snore…
Then the waitress comes out smiling
And she says “Five minutes more.”
Filed under Poems
I saw a survey at a shop
That made me pause, then fully stop.
It asked “What flavor would you want
“To drink here in our restaurant?”
I think they wanted “Pumpkin spice”,
“Caramel pecan”, or something nice.
I wrote “The blood of politicians
“Collected via millions of small incisions.”
Filed under Poems
I was warming a bowl of alphabet soup
‘Cause I’m a grown up, and I can
When I looked down and wondered aloud
“Why’s there so much broth in my pan?”
Now I could add noodles and call it a day
But I felt, toward that fix, an aversion,
So instead I went shopping for a new can
And this time got the Japanese version.
Filed under Poems
You’ve heard of fasting,
Juice cleanses, and diets.
I decided I’m growing
And thus I should try it…
But which one to pick?
Well, I like foreign dining
So I’ll eat naan and tacos
And avoid pain and whining.
We’ll have Greek food for lunch
And, for dinner, Korean.
Isn’t my ethnic cleanse plan
So delightfully freeing?
Filed under Poems
There are more cookies in my belly
Than on the cooling rack.
That’s my reward for exercise
So I think I’m on the right track.
Filed under Poems
Pizza’s pretty yummy
And hot dogs taste real nice
But I can do without the carbs
And even sans the spice.
Instead of all that bready stuff
What I really want to eat
Is meat covered in melted cheese
Then covered in even more meat!
Filed under Poems
People are always joking
About how it weirds them out
That someone grabbed a cow’s udder
And drank what came out.
But I’m wondering who
Ground some wheat with a stone
Mixed it with milk and bacteria
Then left it alone
Before heating it up
To 300 degrees
And then frying it up
With some butter and cheese…
Filed under Poems
They make elbow pasta,
Bow ties and angel hair,
But I think they should make a noodle
For guys who have a pair:
A noodle like the balls that hang
Behind your pickup truck…
(It was at this point my girlfriend said
I’m already in luck).
Filed under Poems
They have hot dogs; they have buns.
They have lunch meat; they have pancakes.
The equivalence I want to know:
What sort of meat a pair with waffles makes.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 