Microwaved Bacon
Let’s see what I’ll be eatin’.
I grab some food to get nuked.
Some Hiroshima bacon,
And some Nagasaki soup
They say it comes from pigs.
Some grade apparent pork.
Lobster, puréed figs,
At the finest diner in New York
I turn it on and pop it in.
I set the timer and sit down.
I hear the hum begin,
As I take a look around
Clockwise goes the radio knob.
Grab the paper from outside.
I get a call from my job.
I say I’m sick. (I lied).
Somethin’ chirps and beeps,
as I walk to the machine.
Pull out the radioactive heap,
As the air is filled with toxic steam.
A plastic spoon from the cupboard.
A strange smelling styrofoam bowl.
The artificial umbilical cord,
That sustains me in this hole.
It doesn’t taste like bacon.
It’s just your thrice daily pill.
All that my microwave’s makin’,
And I eat till I get my fill.
I’ll take my meager rations.
It’s all that I can get.
There’s not much that I’m askin’.
Just that my needs are gettin’ met.
Someday I’ll climb outta this.
Cut my life providing line.
There’s not a thing that I will miss.
Where can I get some genuine swine?
First thing I’ll do is buy some pig.
I won’t let a second go to waste.
Cook it quick and in I dig.
And I won’t need to dream how bacon tastes.
They can be any genre or mood, don’t plagiarize, don’t be inappropriate or weird,
And yeah.
I’m bored
In the wise words of Snoopy: “Bleahhh”