You crooked crooks!
You, sirs, are shameless
and deceive yourselves,
if you think me deceived
by that slick name.

Yes, it’s fowl penises,
bird’s beaks and feet,
avian head cheese,
that you plunk, queerly jiggling,
by potato paste gunk
on convict’s trays, twice weekly.
Audaciously exclaiming, “It’s Meat”!

I do grasp, alas,
that somethings must eat
abattoir droppings,
scraped,
then baked in loaf shapes,
what would otherwise be left
festering
in huge fly swarmed will heaps.
-plus it’s cheap, cheap, “cheep”!
But, I suggest that,
instead, it be fed
to the world’s starving pigs!
If you’ll, just this once,
shunt your duplicity,
tell the truth about this lunch
I must munch to exist,
this I’ll promise,
that I’ll no longer squabble
about being forced to gobble
pureed, reformed, then hardened
discards from gobblers
and squab ball mouse.

But do nix the bone chips
-one just chipped my tooth.

By Nate A. Lindell