A Broiler Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Food is placed carefully inside our mouths, raced by rip bites down a tube wall: traced pieces swirl into fits, dissolving with others, and then tumbling all into a pot.

Treats entering our bodies are being forced into tubes, compressed under pressure into cubes, placed with digested bits, eaten: form mixed toxic concoctions with acids, filling up spaces and forming lubes.

Once inside, bits cook quickly in infusion; revolving portions alter, erupting, then hot gases all dissolving into an exploding soup: evolving factors that run our system like a car.

We must make efforts to control what feeds our bodies; state that's enough, cut back on trusted items, bust those in ills that hurt: improve our lives, our health.

Yet at those times, goods put over stuff, yell, eat things, erupt boiler delights, corrupt the whole system, disrupt the inner parts: free mire or a loud fart.