Daily Meal Plan

A gulp of bitterness as I wake -

Black, no sugar, no cream.

The old mug, cracked an stained,

Breathes tired puffs of steam.

Feet shuffle, eyes dare not stare -

Merciless mirror, cold floor,

Thoughtless breaths of air.

Scoops of asphalt, gasoline in a bowl -

Breakfast cereal - fuming over the

Empty calories of the editorial.

Stomach turns, heart burns -

They’re feeding us moldy bread

That crawls with worms!

The fast food of the city fattens the

The prole, the grunt, the mook before

They end up angled like fish on a hook.

The meat grinder roars, we’re all

Gutted, chopped up, canned, and sold

To feed an invisible monster

Sitting on a mighty throne of gold. 

Reviews

[Thomas W Case]

Great metaphor and symbolism.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

An excellent piece of poetry that aptly illustrates the difficult times we live in. Powerful work, my friend.

[Arundass TP]

Touching poem. Powerful presentation. Loved it

[ETERNITY]

I agree it seems that way at times. There is such a huge turnover of people from all over the world handling the food. Not many inspections, I'm afraid. Our one world order is not so orderly.
I try to inspect my food as I shop. Bread bags with rips along the seam, bent cans which will, indeed, make you sick all are passed over for higher quality goods. We have to make a stand.
Great provocative piece, Laz K.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The masses have no bread to eat! Marie supposedly told them to "eat cake" instead. So they chopped off her head. I'm always hearing if such and such happens, heads will roll. And I haven't seen one head roll, yet. Sometimes I yearn for the return of that type of justice.

[emmajoygreen]

Every word true and trebled. You see with sharp eyes and respond with an equally sharp opinion
'.. we’re all
Gutted, chopped up, canned, and sold
To feed an invisible monster
Sitting on a mighty throne of gold.'