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 altering, 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 into our bodies, state that's enough; cut back upon those trusted items, bust those in ills that hurt: improve our lives, our health.

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