Best Adipose Poems
On this Eid, as your sumum bonum
Is consumerism and as your soul is
Mortgaged to the Federal Reserve Bank
And hedonism, your mental wish-list has been
Inked on ‘things-to-dos’. The catalogue is
Quite impressive. Apart from the toddler,
On your lap, often you place your lap-top.
This time before Eid, to go smarter, you have
A must-gadget purchase: Palm-top.
To outshine others, and to add some
Extra gloss to your gadget-profile
You actively consider getting a tablet.
Even though, it is not the diminutive of table
And has nothing to do with the quadruped rectangle
And it is not to be swallowed with water,
It still has some therapeutic attributes.
Your schedule has accrued extra adipose tissue
With a cluster of meetings looming large on the corporate horizon,
You order designer cloths for yourself. Those fancy textile Marco Polos
Globe-trot and come to your door-step riding their
‘You shop, we drop’ policy.
You give blank cheque to your greater-half
To travel to Metropolitan Centres or Peripheral megacities
To epicurianize herself and her cohorts.
From the other side of the horizon,
Thoreau watches you thoroughly and asks,
This time you’ve parted with
From your obesity-ridden bank account.
All this, I know, is cosmetic purpose-driven.
You, proud buddy, spent this much to decorate your body.
Have you spent a single farthing to adorn your soul?
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Santa has a problem,
Mrs. Claus is really sore,
Working one whole day a year,
She hardly sees him anymore.
Even on his days off
He's hanging out with elves,
Or playing games with reindeer,
Or restocking toyshop shelves.
Could it be that he no longer thinks she's hot?
What do elves and reindeer have that she ain't got?
But Mrs. C. knows just what she will do,
When he gets back this time,
She'll be brand new.
She'll go out shopping for clothes,
And maybe nip-tuck her nose,
Then on to address some excess adipose.
Her bosom's rather small,
So she'll enlarge it.
When asked how she will pay,
She'll just say "Charge it!"
"Then maybe he will pay attention to me.
He certainly will when the credit card bill comes due!"
But will it be enough to change him?
Dare she try to rearrange him?
The big galoot is how he is.
Still, he is hers, and she is his,
And his Christmas biz is all that gets them through.
Santa knows he's been neglectful,
But what's a guy like him to do?
Can't disappoint the girls and boys
Who all depend on you.
And, it's true, they don't go out much,
Sometimes to a coffee bar,
But living at the North Pole,
You can only go so far.
Now he has a little secret
He hopes will make her less upset,
Next year he plans to work from home
And just use the internet.
But he won't let her know that right away.
He'll wait 'til he's back home,
And they have some time alone,
Because he's really keen to see
Her brand new physiognomy
Before he springs his big surprise
On Christmas Day.
It’s called, ’excessive fork to mouth disease’.
Overeating too much of what we please.
Sitting excessively on our derrière?
Watching TV, or writing poetry with magical flairs?
Lockdowns were absolutely no excuse.
Blaming it on “Climate Change…”a bad joke and so incredibly obtuse.
Get off our buttoxes and exercise at home.
It’s OK, to leave your great, altar of the internet, alone!
We lovely women, lose weight slower than charming men.
But there’s no magic pill on which neither can depend!
If I made it from a size sixteen to a size seven,
You can do it, too, it’s simply like being in heaven.
Beers, breads and booze are out of the question.
Wines, pizza, chips just few more to mention!
The key is to not listen, to those who failed.
Else, you be imprisoned in an adipose jail!
Live very long and prosper!
Panagiota
8/20/2022
~3 ~
Wipe away your tears,
time to fight monster with monster
and chase away all of your fears
with metal smooth and cool;
douse the burn of pain.
A simple flick of the wrist
turn on up, reveal a vein
to drown sorrow in familiar
red haze. Roll up the sleeve
where hidden underneath
your life’s history you cleave,
what’s writing another story?
The veins watch from beneath
so play god, make judgment,
release the monster. Fang and teeth,
slide metal in below skin,
adipose tissue, bite through
muscle as you search for a vein
and feel your life run away with you.
Sometimes I visit pro-anoretic
things
Out of curiosity
Out of concern
A desire to relate?
A strange urge to study the
sick.
Am I one of them?
But every time
The more thinspiration
Self-motivation
And self-hatred that I see,
The hungrier I get
The more I feel my waist
The more I notice the softness
of my flesh
The pleasant give of my arms
The rolling contrast of my
proportions
The more I regard “squish”
With fondness.
And when I feel bone
Jut through a pillow of body
I regard it with distaste,
As I would a jagged corner
Jutting through a bedroom
pillow,
This interruption of that which
is
Soft and warm and comforting.
I care little about what look is
yielded
By something so thoroughly
nice to feel,
Whose presence exists to be
touched.
And to delve into boneculture,
A figure so opposite as to repel
everything,
To repel food is to repel touch
To repel human contact
The basis of humanity
To become inhuman untainted
by other humans,
Is repellant to me.
Though it is to be said
That I am able to revel in being
human,
To have power in my human
needs
Without need to have power
over them.
As such
I see my ribs, I feel sick
I wish to cover them
They interrupt my humanness,
To bare my skeleton is to walk
dead.
I cover them
With muscle, with enough
Adipose for a nice give,
Whatever I determine that to be,
Because I am alive
And crave contact
And am human
And those things are beautiful.
Trump Is Gross
There is no doubt Trump is gross
Around waist has much adipose
Small hands and lips that pucker
And definitely is a dumb clucker
Actually thinks that he is verbose.
Jim Horn
There was a girl at the height of her youth
Big bosomed and slim and yet quite uncouth
Then a virus took hold
She had been quite controlled
And then developed a rather sweet tooth
Will be good for your breast milk so God will
This catholic nation forbids the pill
No coil and no rubber
But he would not snub her
Took them to bed and demanded his fill
Her pastor advised a chastity belt
Helps protection in times of great svelte
And dries up his quill
Seed cannot instill
So your grand midsection cannot be swelled
But her pangs would not stop food ingestion
She did not even get indigestion
So tight at the waist
No good to be chaste
To do it or not was thus the question
Before I pop we must look for the key
But no cohabitation you will agree
No sex my sweetheart
Till death do us part
But the right pick remained an absentee
Then she burst like an inflated balloon
And they consumed passion at a full moon
Twins round and perfect
Whats cause and effect
Philosophy can be rather opportune
Was the girdle the faulty solution
Human nature or too much volution
Adipose tissue
Some other issue
That triggered seminal ‘pollution’
Moment of madness due to pandemic
Birth rites or something more academic
Epicure’s garden
Or simply a hard one
Time revealed it was rather systemic
So what’s the climax of this fine account
Could the fertile villain truly be found
The friend here at task
Knocked with a face mask
It was the kind milkman during his round
30th April 2020
Sometimes everybody hurts
All the time I hurt
I read the manual
Weighed the options
Slammed the door shut
To my conscience
And it knocks ceaselessly
And it wails like a lamb in search of its mother
Negligence on my part
Ignorance?
Think looong
live lethargic
loose
don’t lose
and as if this is a game
or competition of some sort
and we sort thru the remnants reluctantly
re living every now and again being reminded
that everybody hurts some times
and I hurt all the times
and I wish
I were a licensed firearm holder
Oh how I would hold it
And never let it go
Even more than John Wray and his nephew
Would my love for it be
And daily would I caress its trigger
In the faces of men
Young and old
Who insist
On upsetting me
Who crave
The future so badly
They can’t leave our children
And yes
I have not forgotten
To clean and oil my machine
To maintain it
For yes
I would be hurt
If it ceased to propel
And deliver a good show
Of interior anatomy
Of red velvet liquid
Of a slurry of adipose
Stirred by bones
Which can no longer protest
And claim justice
For I
Would be the arm of justice
I would be in control
I would have it all
In the palm of my hand
And the tables would turn
Sometimes I would hurt
And everybody would hurt all the times!
Your kindheartedness just drive me drowsy like the day when
I took over dose
And remember I just be in motion so witlessly heartbroken just suppose
Even when I look so yawning into your eyes I hardly see
love is adipose
Come to common dearest and make this part of my life to you so close
May you show me symbols if I am loved back?
I want to just love you for the rest of my life honey
You've got to hold me so stiff no matter when I have no money
I believe we'll have to earn money in this kind of job so ugly
So never just go away dear when am burdened with a job in your eyes that's so funky
May you show me symbols if I am loved back?
I bet you appreciate me honey I'll never get to annoy you
I just see you'd be shining so fastidious in a color blue
I just want to thank you in advance so have this magnificent shoe
I know you'll take me so hazardous in this kind of me holding to you so glue
But I believe you'll love me more because am among the chosen few
So may you show me symbols if I am loved back?
Affliction with mental illness beasts sans,
depression, panic/ anxiety
obsessive compulsive disorder
didst for most of my lix splitting life zap
psychological state plagued with
sweaty palms, irritable
bowel syndrome, mind chatter
constantly doth yip and yap,
whereby extensive stretches of time
bore cerebral torture
housing invisible
mailer daemon nemesis bubble wrap
ping entire corporeal to suicidal ideations
to escape once and for all asphyxiating,
gamesomely hectoring imps,
nauseating non-apparent trap
regularly pitching emotional
welfare to and fro,
hither and yon, thence
lashing out at self - summarized
with the non medical term,
yet descriptive word "snap"
though a half dozen medications
(listed as follows) alleviate
sensation akin to feeling
besieged, and pugilistic-ally rapped,
yet (Quetiapine tab 300mg,
Clomipramine cap 50mg,
Fluoxetine cap 40mg,
Fluoxetine cap 20mg,
Busipirone tab 15mg,
and Clonozepam tab 0.5mg)
prior to prescriptive palliatives,
aye experienced
debilitating quality of life, thus I accept
function-able, manageable
unfortunate side effects such,
viz thinning hair,
necessity to take daily nap
abdominal weight gain, where love handles
replaced wash board stomach, adipose tissue
not quite spilling o'er me lap
so in summary burden of proof
no longer tethers Sisyphean rolling rocks
interestingly enough this figurative lid locks
akin to sealing schizoid "Pandora box).
Your kindheartedness just drive me drowsy like the day when
I took over dose
And remember I just be in motion so witlessly heartbroken just suppose
Even when I look so yawning into your eyes I hardly see
love is adipose
Come to common dearest and make this part of my life to you so close
May you show me symbols if I am loved back?
I want to just love you for the rest of my life honey
You've got to hold me so stiff no matter when I have no money
I believe we'll have to earn money in this kind of job so ugly
So never just go away dear when am burdened with a job in your eyes that's so funky
May you show me symbols if I am loved back?
I bet you appreciate me honey I'll never get to annoy you
I just see you'd be shining so fastidious in a color blue
I just want to thank you in advance so have this magnificent shoe
I know you'll take me so hazardous in this kind of me holding to you so glue
But I believe you'll love me more because am among the chosen few
So may you show me symbols if I am loved back?
diploma acquired magna cum laude – double entendre
Xlv years elapsed since
I (former long haired pencil necked geek)
bid alma mater adieu,
the quietest kid, who never said boo
nobody discerned handy dandy blues clue
what yours truly thought,
cause figurative blanks he drew
remaining quiet as a Unitarian church mouse
never uttered a dog gone peep
extrovertedness he did eschew
even now two score and five years
after donning mortarboard and gown few
and far between words spoken
courtesy me, a former
Norwegian bachelor farmer
Lake Wobegon mine imaginary home
solely without friends grew
impulse to become linkedin
through schizoid personality disorder
offered solitary existence
alone within emotional wilderness hue
cannot imagine loneliness
(analogous to be bajillion miles
from nearest neighbor
while housed within igloo
mattered not whether gentile or Jew)
at tender growing up age obliviousness
suffused every cell constituting
Matthew Scott Harris
interestingly enough yours
truly quite outspoken
thru dimpled cheeky
adipose characterized kazoo
flatulence courtesy pop slop
incorporating secret ingredient
intended to ward off licentious
pheromone exuding females loo
sing hormonal secretions,
anyway said unmentioned
quite tolerant spouse,
(who remained faithfully
married enduring quarter century)
despite incessant husband
buttuck blasting - courtesy moo
ving odoriferous soundcloud waves
issuing ass him tote across avast spatial plane
resultant impact on par with nu
cull lee air fallout ooh
noxious human air pollution pu
tress hint smell as natural deterrent
to sexual reproduction, nevertheless
semen aligned (alphabetically
by athletic prowess) think queue
wee warriors able, eager ready and willing to
increase chromosomal revenue
blaring semper fidelis
as lucky sperm pierces zona pellucida
wee acted screw yule us,
when call of the wild – bald truth
found me to ejaculate and spew
sticky goo, and stopped reproducing
after daughter number two
me unbiased, but both offspring
attractive in their papa's view.
Filched Physiognomy - Mine!
Absolute zero escape
velocity guts dance
sing days (contra and square),
cuz metabolic full abundance
abdominal adipose tissue acceptance
not in accordance
with light as a feather
miss lost acquaintance
the boy within forced admittance
as sure man tanks of fat did advance
shotgun marriage demanded allegiance
to pledge lifetime alliance
no room for allowance
crushing lightness of being ambiance
nor allies to help me combat
battle fatigue require
ring superman endurance
to muster strength
to stand erect else ambulance
will whisk away husky
embarrassing appearance
loose fitting clothing
jelly roll appurtenance
overnight digital readout,
asper body mass index
scaled quick ascendance,
thus when showering,
I look askance
fearing bulging balloon
will necessitate assistance
else... diet of worms
as only assurance
safeguarding body electric
against hecklers at open casket
no matter, a small perchance
crowd in attendance
yea... eventual cremation
after life only fat chance
to alleviate present circumstance
heavy matter fails security clearance
the price for astute cognizance
weak willpower alighting countenance
esse pie ying sweet treats
now measures taken to counterbalance
to fight temptation and dalliance
overruling feasting craving delectation
to restore trim deliverance
love handles around equator
no magician can render disappearance
yes the discontinuance
of just dessert must maintain distance
without being weighed
down with disturbance
by heaviest haunch
ain't no elegance
lugging extra encumbrance
when throughout my early life,
skinny, yet able to steel glance
mirrored reflection now grievance,
where wistful memory
ha...ironic insouciance
more so than
today finds intolerance,
thus woebegone issuance
thorn in muss hide
to experience jubilance
hmm...maybe a strong
arm can lance
excess flab quite a nuisance
to defy gravity, why penance
sans unsightly paunch
yours truly laments skin
tight fit, thus petulance
lame excuse unwanted protuberance
necessitates dedicated pursuance
recollection of washboard
abdomen impossible, yes
nothing accomplished by remonstrance!
I adopt dainty etiquette
when quenching thirst or dining
to buzzfeed growling beast
inside me tummy.
The missus requests obedience
raising both my little fingers in the air
upon taking beverage or repast to lips.
Additionally, she also requires I
(well healed husband who toes the line)
perform dance shuffle - think clog
feigning to trip over feet
as if yours truly quaffed to much grog
while balancing atop log.
Miss iz manners re: lee the spouse
sets prime example being lady like,
what with her belching and snorting
of course with mouthful of food
no surprise she nurtured impolite brood
raised on learning language crude
even this Geico caveman exhibits
less coarse attitude,
he likens himself to subdued dude
trying his darnedest (golly gee)
to avoid family feud
general behavior hashtagged as rude
linkedin with antics qualified as lewd
encouraged nsync while
slurping or masticating in the nude,
whereby other body sounds made
unsuitable for strait laced and prude
folks who don't take a fancy hearing
so called uncouth soundclouds exude
out body orifices considered foul,
inapropos and extremely lewd
when unless quarantined in solitude.
One upside of COVID-19
postprandial aural emanations
(all time favorite flatulence)
knows no outward bounds
unless colorectal explosions
register highest magnitude
when measured in concert
with handy dandy
blues clues rattle seismometer
and register courtesy
Richter Scale and the Mercalli Scale
direction and intensity of earthquakes.
Upon experiencing aforementioned prime mate
i.e. the bellowing gal offering herself as ahem
(pardon the double entendre) master bait,
I knew from the get go
Tex-Mex Connection
in North Wales, Pennsylvania
where we shared our first date
(outsize bean burritos)
I tooted my own horn,
she unwittingly got me into checkmate,
just for that her fate got sealed,
when our respective gametes
(ova and sperm cells respectively)
new life we did miraculously create
the first of two female offspring
would become housed in utero
and come to resemble
a spheroid somewhat oblate
even now unnamed counterpart,
(and partner in crime) still swell person
hook hood benefit to lose some weight,
cuz... well adipose freight
quite ample around equator.