If you have been reading this blog for a while now, you know there are no bounds for my love of pork. I have not consumed it for over a month now. While driving yesterday, I had two trucks with live pigs drive along side me— ears and snouts sticking out. I also had a very strange dream last night and it inspired me to write this poem.
My dearest swine
I have forsaken you once more
I have fallen prey to your detractors
They whisper foul things in my ear
Fatty, unclean, unhealthy
I dare not say more
Sweet morsel, what say you?
They tell untruths?
My pork chop
My tenderloin
My rumproast
My pig-in-a-blanket
How can something so sweet against thy lips be poison?
Shall I forget you?
I think not
That would be an improbability ...impossibility
I shall remember our splendour
Our picnic pork, garlic pork, pulled pork
This is not farewell forever
When I tire of your bland, unpalatable friends
I shall return to you in the night
Do not get attached
For it is fleeting
Our love...
I enjoy the poem but your blatant love of swine how
ReplyDeletedeep rooted it is is unsettling..
I don't eat pork for the fact that they eat their own filth and
anything else that makes it's way in front of their snouts..
In turn all that is consumed enters into the flesh..
Like if I eat gelato 3 times a week and magically my thighs look like
effing Jello Jigglers, same shit..
The thought is making me gag up my lentil salad I just ate.
Apart from that.. Can you see now, that you have had to stop the affects it's had on your body? This detox aint over dude...
****CENSORSHIP WARNING IN EFFECT***
I did not censor you! I publish every comment...You must understand how difficult it is for a lover of swine to let go. I don't think I could actually write a poem about love—A poem about my love of pork, yes. I am still detoxing, being a good girl. Can I have a burger?
ReplyDeleteyou must read this to me again with the villainous music playing in the background
ReplyDelete...and my English poetry voice?
ReplyDelete