deepundergroundpoetry.com
Not Quite Breakfast at Tiffany's
There’s a Tiger named Tony with his frosted corn flakes
who sits in my kitchen and yells that they’re GRRRREAT!
My ears are still ringing when a green leprechaun
jumps up on the table without a stitch on.
“I’m magically delicious!” He’s waving his arms.
“I want to get Lucky. Have a taste of my Charms!”
Cap’N Crunch pulls his sword and gives it a swing.
The leprechaun panics. “He’s cut off my thing!”
There’s a bird by my window with a colorful beak
“That midget’s a Froot Loop and the captain’s a freak,”
he says as he craps in my cup by the sink.
Just because he shits rainbows doesn’t mean it don’t stink.
Three miniature guys who ‘Snap, Crackle, Pop’
fall into my blender and turn into slop.
Fred Flintstone and Barney show up about nine.
They play with their Pebbles until they go blind.
Some rabbit named Trix must be high on cocaine.
He jumps through the ceiling and smashes his brain.
Count Chocula pokes his sharp fangs in my neck.
He thought I was sweet but just wanted to check.
“I’ve had all the sugar this sweet tooth can stand.
Get out of my kitchen! Yeah, that’s a demand!”
I chase them around till they run out the door,
then scrape up dead bunny and mop the whole floor.
I clean out the blender, my coffee cup too.
I’ll admit that I’m famished by the time that I’m through.
I’m flustered and desperate for something to eat.
To hell with cold carbs; give me spicy HOT MEAT!
Then, who should show up like a western surprise
in his boots and his hat and his thick cowboy thighs
but a dude with the prettiest sausage I’ve seen.
“Howdy, ma’am.” He smiles warmly. “My name’s Jimmy Dean.”
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