I have to come out.. I won't offer lies..
there's something I just can't disguise,
my tastes are different than other guys..
I'm simply in love with chicken *** pies!

It started when I was quite small in size,
when mom shopped for her weekly supplies.
She worked all day and thought it'd be wise
to make *** pies one of her regular buys.

Loved 'em then, and this truth still applies-
Don't give me fried chicken wings or thighs,
don't serve a burger with greasy old fries,
don't cook fancy foods and don't improvise..

There's one taste sensation I dearly prize!
The best frozen meal you could ever devise!
If you want to impress or want to surprise,
just cook up a couple of chicken *** pies!

Now that this poem has reached its demise,
I'll pre-heat the oven and say my goodbyes.

Chicken tenders and chicken wings,
I love all those chicken things.
But if you asked me about my own,
I would say "leave them alone".

Be the reason the chicken
                        crossed the road..

Ask it to jump
                      in your bucket...

'Now, make sure you've sterilised those instruments well. I want no complications with this one,' I say to my rookie assistant.

I carefully lay out the gleaming stainless-steel blades and check that all is in order. We're waiting on a last minute ***** donation to complete the procedure and although the timing is unorthodox, I'm confident of success. The pleural resection should be reasonably straightforward. If anything, it's the closure that bothers me...and the possibility of problems further down the line.

From outside comes the sound of a vehicle screeching to a halt. Then the kitchen door bursts open. 'Mommy, Mommy, we got it! The last one.' My six-year old holds the bag of chicken giblets up triumphantly. I smile at my father as he appears with the rest of the Thanksgiving groceries and passes them to my son. 'Right, so who's going to help me stuff this bird?'

Did I chicken out or was it not the time?
The moment was so fine but not right
The fight within me ceased
It was a feast of joy and of song
Nothing could go wrong
Maybe next time i'll see if with her I belong.

When it comes to my neighbor, I usually have a fit.
He irritates the hell out of me and he's a chicken ****.
He has wild parties that last until 3 A.M.
I'm sick of having to put up with him.
When I went to his house one night,
I made the mistake of challenging him to a fight.
When he showed up for the fight, the wimp brought along four other guys.
He talks tough but when it comes to being a chicken ****, he takes the prize.
Showing up with four other men made him feel empowered.
I got my *** handed to me but unlike him, I'm not a coward.
All five of them beat the crap out of me and they made me eat their fists.
Now I have to gum my food because my teeth are gone and sorely missed.
But at least I was able to land one very hard punch.
I hit my neighbor in the belly and he lost his lunch.
It didn't take long to realize something that I'm not ashamed to admit.
I got the living hell beat out of me but at least I'm not a chicken ****.

i eat chicken, the world knows i do.
my life is a mother hen, punishing me for eating so much ******* chicken.
but once a day she gives me one good thing,
a single egg to hold onto.

i always break it.
one day i received a golden egg she conceived.
told me “you know what will happen if you eat more chicken again.”
i promised her i would not, and i kept that egg warm in a feather bed, staying up till 5am smothering it with love and heat.

the morning i saw the gold flaking off, i cried.
mother had tricked me into eating no chicken.
it was a fake.
i wanted to strangle her, that **** mother hen.
what would become of us if i snapped her neck.
no more eggs.

do i need them?