Your eyes fall so naturally over the body of every girl that walks by,
And they avoid me like I am diseased meat.
Men are wolves and when tamed, they're dogs.
But dogs still eat meat,
And she is quiet the piece.

What do I have at my disposal?
A knack for always wanting to write
My intuitive messages down.
But it’s got no substance,
It’s got no meat.
I’m all bread and cheese and
Condiment without any meat.
It’s fitting for a vegan, I suppose,
But not for a poet.
The poet has to lead breadcrumbs
For the reader in order to get to the meat
Of the poem, the substance, the protein.
Where is it?
I’m lacking substance where I have all these
Nice little toppings and sauces and vegetables,
I have a dipping sauce for this sandwich,
But no meat!
I have to go to the store,
I have to keep honing my skill.
I have to develop a hunger for meat.

Lean                                                             ­       
Delicate                                                 ­                                                     
“ne plus ultra”                                      
Cooked slow                              
Gastronomically Intelligent        
Unassuming                                              
Gentle ­                                   
Docile
Fashionable                                  
“ne plus ultra”                                          
Ethical         ­                                         
Ecological ...    
...voices rumbling through refined-dining,

Excuse Moi, Mr.Gluttony

Since when is Meat Ethical?
If meat became so Ethical,
Then,
How Ethical You are?

Sheathing your hypocrisy                
and luck of humanity                                
with pompous words,                      
style and fancy clothes,
while you tingling your gustative papillae
with  “le goût friand”, étiquette,
capris and mannerism.
                                                    
You                                                            ­    

Don’t **** the rabbit! so                                                    
the rabbit can **** you in no time, “pooka”
          
Don’t tell                                                  
No one pre-empt you,                            
when asking for healing.

we are all accomplices
the plate cannot lie
something murdered casually
so we can finely dine
oozing still the blood
that once coursed it's veins
a rare and gruesome pallet
enjoyed with chips and peas

yet we pet the dog
call him companion and friend
invited into the family
like a furry surrogate child
stroke the cat on our evening lap
cooing and talking
like they understand
they have the protection of PET

otherwise we'd be cuddling a snack

my freezer is full
of vegetables and meat
I wonder what to eat

Be the reason the chicken
                        crossed the road..

Ask it to jump
                      in your bucket...