deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Trifle
Just a spoon
from the old whore's bowl
to lift the gloom
and tease my tongue
so moist and smooth
and full of fun
cool custard
creme and sherried plums
Oh, how my belly
rumbles shame
its renegade
a second brain
my wide-eyed child
awaiting thrill
the table lures me
for the kill
I know that smile
so sweetly crooned
One spoon wont hurt
one spoon for you
and with a sigh
I know it's two
then three or four
and back for more
She primps
with all her cherries winking
whips my taste buds
while I'm thinking:
Is diabetes worse than drinking--
as I shudder at my poor
piggie heart
Published 30th Nov 2010
| Edited 9th Apr 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 4
reads 948
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
30th Nov 2010 12:25pm
i never liked trifle but after reading your poem is makes me want some! delicious and scrumptious poem!
30th Nov 2010 1:15pm
Now you see I am convinced I have this eating disorder, Yankie-doodler. I Have to eat all the food in the house - that's 'I Have to' with a giant H.
My enteric brain (we really do have two) seems to malfunction too often... probably a throw back to our hunter gatherer existence when like dogs we would take advantage of food glut situations. So as you can imagine, the added complication of a cute looking trifle throws my retard gut brain into overdrive and I become certain that gorging myself to death is a terrifyingly real prospect. The strangest thing is, I stay skinny and I don't have worms either, it's just the way my genes are wired.
Best ~ Abra
30th Nov 2010 2:55pm
what an interesting subject for such a dark, delicious poem....another gem..
