Long Burrito Poems
Long Burrito Poems. Below are the most popular long Burrito by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burrito poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
Yum,
tasty!
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
Hold on
I am going to have a few more bites.
Okay,
no wait,
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
And/
aaaahhhhhhh,,
tasty^
tayysstee^
hahahahahahahahaha""
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
hahahahahahahahaha
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
hahahahahahahahaha
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
hahahahahahaha?haha
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
oh yeah+
fill the sheet)
hahahahahahahahaha
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
quesshun= Sex
easy!
ansir; yes- please)
hahahahahahahahaha
?why m i bein so polite
hahahahahahahahaha
queshun!
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
hahahahahahahahaha
i mean hungary
haahahahahah
h u n g r y
dere hungry>
hey look
brownies?
those look good
hahahahahahahahaha
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
hahahahahahahahaha
two bee contitnude
"Humor can alter any situation and help us cope at the very instant we are laughing." –Allen Klein
A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR BLUNTS THE SHARP BLADES OF REALITY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I lay on the table, a modern-day sacrificial lamb,
pillow cradling my head, a fortress of foam and fabric.
Then came Velcro, the sticky embrace of a high-tech straitjacket,
my legs and wrists secured like a reluctant burrito.
Into the tube I slid, a terrified astronaut on a mission,
the ceiling loomed, a metallic sky, almost kissing my nose.
I clenched my hands until they turned white pondering
“Is this what it feels like to be a sardine in a can?
The sounds began, a symphony of whirs and clicks,
the MRI’s own version of a pop concert—
I imagined it had a fan club, “Team Tube,” with its own T-shirts
while I lay there, a star in a very narrow universe.
I tried counting, “one, two, three.” But sigh…
my thoughts were spinning like socks in a dryer.
I imagined bystanders strolling by, pointing and staring.
“Behold! Look at the sweating patient in the tube!”
The minutes crawled, like a snail on a treadmill.
“Perhaps I should have brought snacks
or at least a good book.” But alas, I was tethered,
a captive audience to my own claustrophobic anxiety.
So I lay still, the sounds swirling,
I chuckled softly, because if this is life,
then I might as well enjoy the ride,
even if it’s a little cramped and a little weird.
After all, who needs a spa day when you can have an MRI,
a slow, relaxing rollercoaster ride into the belly of the beast.
Oh, the absurdity of my situation, and the irony of it all—
Here I was, a human pretzel, searching for sanity inside the MRI.
Then, suddenly, the whirring ceased, the ceiling pulled back.
I emerged, a superhero in a hospital gown,
Velcro stripped away, ready to conquer the world
with a newfound appreciation for open spaces.
Poem written for “A Good Sense Of Humor Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry Contest,” Natasha L. Scragg, sponsor, July 29, 2025.
Be it known as convenience food, junk food or munchies;
whether spicy, melt-in-your-mouth soft, or crunchy,
food, inglorious food, seduces with ease
and ensnares with the emptiest of calories.
Disguised as a comfort food comes macaroni
with creamy Alfredo and kin, Fettucini,
To not be outdone, spaghetti entices
with large fattening meatballs and sauce rich in spices.
“Deep fried” knows our weakness for fat, which gives pleasure
and saturates fast foods, it seems, in great measure:
KFC (finger-licking), batter-fried fishes
and chicken fried steaks -high cholesterol dishes.
Even fruits will attack with enjoyment unhealthy
as tarts, pies or pastries. That apple is stealthy!
Veggies can also be treacherous things
in guise of corn fritters and gold onion rings.
Too much of a good thing is pizza (so cunning,
so meaty, so cheesy), which no one is shunning.
The taco, burrito, and big burger too
in great numbers descend on us. What can we do?
Those delectable luscious desserts that we eat
have only to sit there; we cannot retreat!
Candies and chocolate, our decadent sin,
sweetly defeat us. We simply give in.
Ice cream, a smooth foe, knows when we are blue.
On a cone or a spoon, it drips, waiting for you.
As a milkshake, a frosty, a sundae or float,
or between split bananas, it sure floats MY boat!
Buttered popcorn is one salty foe, and we love it!
The hot dog implores in our mouths that we shove it.
Baked bread, so alluring, entraps with its scent,
which wafts through the air as if heaven sent!
The standards of junk food -America’s pride -
crisp bacon and nachos, chips and foods fried,
invade our malls’ food courts and lurk high and low.
Their smells overwhelm us wherever we go!
We might try but we can’t make our junk food desist.
for only the health nuts can dare to resist.
In the war with inglorious food I adore,
I say, Bring it on! Here’s my plate; I want more.
For the The Synathroesmic Cat Contest Poetry contest of Suzanne Delaney
*So now you can all know why I try to get to the gym a lot. hahaha
Introducing my roommate Leong to my Saturday morning cartoon binge habit proved to be one of my BEST ideas EVER. She’s a very animated watcher, frequently laughing, gasping in horror and, in the end, delighted by these silly shows.
It’s almost a case for convergent evolution, how two creatures, from opposite ends of culture and the world can be so similar.
I find myself watching her, for her reaction, as much as the shows themselves - I’ve seen them before but I rediscover them vicariously and emotionally through her. We can spend hours dissecting character arcs and plot twists - we’ve found a small, stress-free heaven.
It’s 10:40am Sunday morning and Leong is dipping celery in barbecue sauce for breakfast again. “THAT’s just gross,” I deem, holding my hand up to block my view of this travesty.
“You should TALK,” she says, “Flexatarian!”
I gasped, like a slapped Chris Rock in the face of this naked aggression. “Why am I a flexatarian! I demand, my mind reeling for context, “because I ordered the potato burrito at taco bell?” I look around for some sort of rescue or validation, but we’re alone.
“That’s so FAUX,” I say, in an injured voice, shaking my head sadly. “I’m by the book carnivore,” I say, holding my fingers in a three-fingered girl scout pledge.
“And you have to live with that trauma,” Leong says, scooping an extra large dollop of sauce with her celery as I make gagging and heaving sounds.
.
slang
Flexatarian - someone who’s only a vegetarian when it’s convenient or showy.
faux - untrue
*Convergent evolution: how life evolves in certain predictable ways because they work the best. For example: how flying has evolved independently at least four times on earth: in birds, bats, insects, and pterosaurs. Ultimately, this theory predicts that we will meet other “humans” if we ever get out and explore the universe - those Star Trek green, human aliens may actually be real somewhere.
*I have a no “show off” rule which this may violate..
These are some of my all-time favorite actors
They all have some very important key factors
The reasons behind this have many different ranks
I have to start with the beautiful and talented Tom Hanks
From Turner and Hooch to You’ve Got Mail
Tom Hanks will always be at the top of the scale
He will always be my young celebrity crush
I know he’s ancient now, so hush-hush.
Next, I would have to go with Danny DeVito
He’s like a perfectly made cheesy bean and rice burrito
From Deck The Halls to When In Rome
His exterior may be small, but his smile brings him home
Next up is the all-time silly goose, my man Kevin James
His contagious personality is for real, I ain’t playing games
From Mall Cop to Here Comes The Boom
His everlasting talent never ceases to bloom.
Another one of my favorites is the great Tim Allen
He’s not just a tiny two-liter; he’s the full gallon
From The Santa Clause to Christmas with the Kranks
My love for his talent and dedication never tanks
Jack Black most definitely makes the list
With his personality and talent, how can I resist
From Nacho Libre to Kung Fu Panda
His purpose and ability aren’t just some silly propaganda
I am also a big fan of the hilarious Kevin Hart
Every movie I have seen him in is a work of art
I could go on and on listing my favorite actors forever
But that would be quite a long endeavor
So I’m just gonna pick one more
One that I love and adore
So buckle up and get ready for my final actor
I hope you like comedy movies, because that’s a big factor
Chris Pratt is great and deserves this recognition
Just know I love all of the actors; it’s no competition
From Jurassic World to The Lego Movie
His demeanor and personality will always stay groovy
Like I mentioned before, that was my last one
I could keep going, but that would be no fun
So I hope you enjoyed this little list of rhymes
Feel free to come back and read this a thousand more times
Take me on an awesome drive along the crooked street.
And treat me to a big burrito in the Mission District.
I see no rival to San Francisco where I spent 8 years
of my life as a young adult with a wife and three children.
Take me back there for just a day or two to enjoy the views.
Let my memory take in the Golden Gate Park visits with my kids.
Take me across the Golden Gate Bridge one more time.
Show me again that massive structure of awe and beauty.
That beautiful golden orange hanging high above the sea.
Why, I surely must have crossed it a thousand times.
I know the feeling of the late-night mild and harmless shakes.
I am forever grateful to have not experienced a big quake.
Take me back to the spot where on a Sunday afternoon, dressed
in our Sunday best, my two kids and I were drenched by the high tide.
Take me on another drive or a ride up and down on the trolly car
on California street, or on the N-Judah street-car all the way to the
Pacific. Give me another great breathtaking view of Market Street
from Twin Peaks. A walk across the beach west of The Golden Gate
Park would engender memories so dear and close to my heart.
Or how about the challenge of Leaving for church on A Bay to Breakers
Sunday morning? Let me breathe the atmosphere in the financial district.
Take me back to bitter-sweet drives from bank to bank, picking up deposits.
Allow me to navigate the morning fog and hear the sound of the fog horns.
And please allow me another ocean view from my living room window.
Oh, sweet San Francisco, you grew on me
and taught me so much about love.
121722PSCtest, Take Me There. Margarita Lillico
Understand this,
understanding matters!
Wrap your mind around
a spicy burrito sun flared thought
Now take a bite ...
see the fuego aurora bursts of light
Elevating spiritual awareness
fires up the furnace brimstone coals,
and pumps up the prophetic bellows
Knowledge of God is a wisdom bush
not consumed by the carnal flame
Carbon-based messengers speaking invisible truth,
declare dark parables made plain
Understanding that time moves
back-and-forth like a passenger train
And every weary time traveler
knows when to presently rest
and get strengthened by a warm repast
The manna of a Melchizedek life
is understanding this:
What has happened in the future,
will happen in the past once more
What was known before the blocks of creation
were set into the foundation of the void
Is now shown in cornerstone visions of destruction:
See every evil work cast into the boiling bottomless pit,
where mad babble bubbles the gnashing noise —
Volcanic eruption of viper voices spewing idolatrous vomit
Understand this,
salvation is all that matters
The message delivered from the future,
was received in the past before
Children of the Son of Man,
faith is the key
Allowing those who believe
to walk on the watery grave sea floor
Understanding this:
He who was nailed on the cross,
is coming back once more
Apocalypse now is even at the door —
so understand this: In the mind of God,
it has already happened before!
Twenty one Earth orbitz ago...
February fourth two thousand and twenty...
Shana Aubrey Harris
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREETING,
albeit eleven days early
Countless years after papa
took thee and Eden
to favorite outing namely five below
other go to places included
Target, Old Navy, Chipotle,
and Santa Fe Burrito
four other bricks and
mortar sites thee dough
ting dada availed himself
ah... memories still echo
with sentimental emotions that flow
despite blur of intervening years
geesh...,how quickly ye did grow
already now high ho high ho
off to work and/or school ye go
still at times, I get teary eyed
sniffle... sniffle... sniffle
think drama and Shakespeare's Iago
analogous emotional family tension
my humblest apologies,
I may not really know
if high dudgeon ye felt toward me
opprobrious indiscretions
shenanigans (mine) generic Joe
cur overstepped bounds of decency,
whereat family dynamics attained little low
coe motion unfairly inflicting mo'
harm than good on innocent lass
forced to weather no
peace of mind, especially when living
at 1148 Greentree Lane - oh
when battle axe and henchmen
demanded we move
(reed get evicted) pronto
Harris family crisis took kamikaze nosedive
in one direction,
now I strive for status quo
and love how lee thee row... row... row
your boat gently down the stream.
How to break an addiction. Decide to live.
What can I learn from my pain. Danger.
And friends are merely friendly, live on independent
of your injury. You will not be missed in church on Sunday.
Grass. Weed, broccoli, burrito, stink, pot, skunk.
I'm talking blue grama, upland bent, smooth brome,
riverside panic, wild rye, fowl meadow, spike muhly,
sweet vernal, salt marsh, bristly foxtail, little bluestem.
Reefer is unhealthy, opens lesions in the brain,
wormholes into hell, yet should be legal. I'll vote that way.
It may ease the pathos into non-existence
well as meditation, bird watching, last will and testament.
Each joint hurts, rib joints, spine joints, skull plate joints.
The head and hip and heart will hurt, all three.
Insomniac I like the way bones crack and clack like
wooden wind chimes, an untuned piano, a tree rack of wornout shoes.
Never forget, the mind is the body paying attention
to what it's doing. Without that connection, each finger bent
or toe smashed is just added to the collection
of anonymous body parts of holocaust victims
in their mass graves. Better when every life saved
or lost is a front page story, an illusion of shared
sacrifice or joy, but that expresses only the surface
of our emotions. I'm mostly relieved to have survived.
As I remember, I was about six years old
the day Aunt Edie babysat.
Why weren't any of my brothers home?
Was Mom stressed with me? Maybe that.
We talked for many hours about everything,
all that was on my mind.
I had never known a lady to be
so patient, gentle, and kind.
Later, my mom said that my aunt was surprised
I had so much to say,
because my mom said I was painfully quiet.
In essence, my aunt said, "no way".
My aunt took me out for lunch on that sunny day.
We sat outside together.
With pieces of tortilla from my first burrito,
we fed our friends with feathers.
Next, we went to buy some colorful flowers.
We agreed they were pretty,
as was the green grass we saw next
in the quiet cemetery.
She grew pensive, contemplative and subdued
as she placed each bloom.
I joined her in quiet observance and smelled
the blossoms' sweet perfume.
For me, it felt like I had been honored
to share in her grief
for a husband, long since dead,
as a gentle breeze blew a leaf.
The man was not her current husband,
the uncle known to me.
Years later my mom said I must be mistaken.
It was her grandpa we went to see.
Could be she was right about that -
I was only six years old.
But I will forever remember that day,
a memory to have and hold.