Eating Our Own Words Poem by Mary Champion

If we were forced to eat our own words
we might give more thought to what we say.
A diet of ill-chosen nonsense
could hardly be classed as a gourmet

concoction - causing indigestion
and probably flatulence as well.
Farting our own fatuousness would
render us very anti-social.

Bull-shit and rhubarb would taste awful -
the worst junk food you could imagine -
apart from tripe, hogwash and hokum
rounded off with waffle and moonshine.

Wise men would fast for long periods -
often too nervous to quench their thirst.
Morons would get obese on hot air
rising like balloons until they burst.