Today's poems [9.6.17]
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Ode to Spam
by Charlie Johnston
Oh SPAM! Oh SPAM! Gourmet delight!
My food by day, my dreams by night.
To carve, to slice, to dice you up -
pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup.
What shining deity from Olympus knelt
down to the earth and hog butt smelt?
Creating then man's eternal desire
for swine entrails congealed by fire.
On some corporate farm, a pig has died.
Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside
that cube of SPAM hidden in the can
I now hold in my trembling hand.
More than mere food, SPAM is for me
a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee.
Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses.
My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes.
Long have my arteries clogged to the sound
of sizzling SPAM when there's no one around -
furtively chewing or swallowing whole.
Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal.
Other processed meat products I've tried or declined
Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pig's feet in brine.
Though each may be tasty in different ways,
none matches SPAM for gelatinous glaze.
That glistening pinkness beckons me
with gristle, fat, and BHT.
Oh Spam, my Spam - the taste, the smell -
The sacred meat product from Hormel.
There once were two brothers named Luntz
Who buggered each other at once.
When asked to account
For this intricate mount,
They said, "Assholes are tighter than cunts."
Redneck family tree
Many many years ago
when I was twenty three,
I got married to a widow
who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter
Who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her,
And soon the two were wed.
This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
For she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse,
Although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy.
My little baby then became
A brother-in-law to dad.
And so became my uncle,
Though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle,
Then that also made him brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter
Who, of course, was my step-mother.
Father's wife then had a son,
Who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson,
For he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue.
Because, although she is my wife,
She's my grandmother too.
If my wife is my grandmother,
Then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it,
It simply drives me wild.
For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!
There was a young man from Malacca
Who always slept on his left knacker.
One saturday night,
He slept on his right,
And his knacker went off like a cracker.
In the Garden of Eden they dwelt;
And on his right knee, Adam knelt.
He said to his Eve,
"Do you really love me?"
And that's when she answered, "Who else?"
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