Poetry

Wining and dining with false tongues

Teeth dripping blood from the finger stumps

Tongue salty from the anger-shed tears that have clumped

Be gone you mythical beast of compassion

And show your true moral compass and self-passion

That lies strewn about the restaurant gutter

 

Take your falsehoods and buy some twenty-percent friends

They are waiting eagerly your sugary half-truths laden with a gravy cleanse

Pass me the bitters and some cocktails

For the grenadine ain’t so sweet to swallow but the senses it assails

 

Hawk-eyed you pierce through the food steam

Where your celebrity chefs live high on the beam

Passed out from too much consumption

Of their frilly-assed empty truffle gumption

 

Oh, but it is oh so good

The ouzo flows like liquid licorice gold

Streaming and burning down into your belly

Jetting off your tongue in a messy hurry

 

Speak some more of those empty words

Speak of your fame as if laced with lemon curd

For you connect better with your butter

But make sure to thank your faux friends and loyal birds

 

It’s all a wasted, ashen never land

Smoky mirrors enlarge your soupy soul in a Warhol can

Categories: Poetry, politics, workplace

5 replies »

  1. Not what you intended, I’m sure, but the above almost works as the lyrics to a rap song about vengeful foodies. I probably missed the main point, but I enjoyed it very much anyway.

    Like

      • The words you chose had a cool complicated rhythm and, with the attitude, it had to be rap!

        Me? Better, in general. My recovery is non-linear with a general positive trend and, rats, I just proved my geek knees again.

        Like

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