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I've started my stand-by diet: a few different fruits each day,
and having repeated it time and again, I feel qualified to say
apples, unless of a rare and crisp nature, are mushy and generally gross.
Halfway into the core of one, I'm still starving and feeling morose.
The diet's mainstay, pineapple, for its fat-burning enzymes revered,
when fresh, is somewhat palatable.  
If it's green, though, ones mouth can be seared.

And that popular phallic banana, which when peeled, fast begins to rot:
That one I'll leave for the monkeys though it's garnish for sundaes or not!
Tomorrow I'm finally in for a treat.  It's a watermelon to eat.
But for all my thumping to test for its ripeness, 
it well could taste flat and not sweet.

Blueberries, too, and cherries are good. 
 I wish there were more fruits like these.
However, I long to see them all "berried"
 ‘neath Cool Whip atop cream cheese.
Plums or grapes, frozen or plain, "not bad" until they are dried.
By the time I'm consuming ghastly prunes, 
I'll be famished for food that is fried!

Mangoes, too, are on my list of what I must partake.
But (gag me) their texture lends the sensation 
I'm swallowing snails or a snake.

I've noticed of late with this regimen, its slimming magic is slowing
as with each precious year's dissolution, my metabolism's lowering.
Next week (so I say) I'll banish forever this obsolete, once-potent "cure".
It long since has extracted from me any craving for food that is pure.

With a dull kitchen knife I took my papaya today and reverently sawed it.
With its flavor lingering there on my tongue,
 it struck me it hinted of vomit.


*I'm not a big fruit eater as this shows!! This is a diet I will no longer pursue!
Next I should do a poem on how sickening it gets eating salads day after day.

Jan. 27, 2017 for Jamie Pan's "It's time for hilarious poetries"
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