"cheetos" poems
We are a global society
When we want oranges in the fruit bowl,
When we want out of our rut
Just long enough
To brown in a patch of Spanish sun.
We are a global society
When the Japanese car breaks down
And we are in need of a cheap fix
To keep food on the table,
Some Latvian mechanic
Who helps us find our way home.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When the zeroes run low
And there are spaces,
Foreign faces,
To which we can point
And blame.
We are a global society
With our sweat-shop chic,
American coffee chains
Selling Colombian ground beans,
Frappuccinos in plastic cups-
Made in China
And served by a Romanian barista
In Italian heels.
We are a global society
When the demand is high
And the payment is low.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When hands reach out for help
And our pockets are too shallow,
Our time, too brief
To commit to a unity
We feel is dragging us down.
We are a global society
When the football is on,
When the lager is Belgian
And the supermodel, Greek.
When we cradle that bag of Cheetos
After smoking too much ****
We are a global society
When oppression is overt,
Caricatured in bulletin posters,
Threatening to land
Upon our own front door.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When poverty seems contagious,
When we have to clean up
Someone else’s mess,
Still we scar the Middle East
Only half-interested in an exit.
We are a global society
When we get sick,
When we borrow another doctor
For our ailing NHS.
When cities of white people burn,
We are a global society,
When Africa is divided,
We are nowhere to be seen.
Prime mover of the commonwealth
Yet we fall beneath the breadline
And living easy is so rare.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
Under the false flag
Of a golden age
We were conned to believe in.
Our nation, our island nation,
Lost amongst a sea of misinformation.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
My words are not my own,
Nor do they belong to my totem frog
Which hippity hops
His way trough my life,
Guiding me towards a metamorphosis,
From drunkard
To enlightened.
He (I) sure am taking his time,
But should/could this journey be rushed?
My poems are not the caw of the crow and/or raven,
She does not sing a song so beautiful that I am moved to purge it least it take up too much of the spare space I have inside of me.
She is my spirit guide,
Turn this way, choose that one (with the pretty smile which makes you ever so nervous),
Do not wear that ridiculous outfit,
Don't even think of-
Too late, now live with the repercussions, idiot.
A ****** of voices.
My muse tickles my lust and embraces my love
But is neither.
She/he dons many faces none of which I have ever seen.
Whimsical ***** ******* of emotional release
I do not know you!
I write your words as they come into my head.
Or I would,
If I could keep up with your maniacal laughter;
You spew nonsense rapid fire, child slaying zombies with Cheetos stained fingers,
And with all the elegance therein.
Yet,
I am thankful indeed.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
there once was a nerd, in his pastime he led a pony herd and drank mountain dew while his patchy mustache grew, he fingered a bag or three of Cheetos and studied tuxedoes, but the point i try to point is the point that this nerd was a sir, true and fair, and how dare you put him, leave him, in the grim grim world of the friend zone?! now pick up your phone and call that mountain dew can armor wearing amour back into your life and be his wife because *** is only for the married.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
but I am a different
kind of adventurous.
even if I only dance with
others, or hit whistle notes
with Brett, even if Joe's the
only one I'd kiss without
a single regret
I love long car rides, I'll
take your shift, I'll let
you sleep an extra two hours
I love the smell of sunscreen
and graham crackers and how I've been
sitting in these shorts for too
long that there has to be
a sweat stain.
I don't know, have you ever had
cheetos at a rest-stop before Modesto?
We'd make it to Santa Cruz on time.
I may not climb the Himalaya's with
you, or go to Paraguay because I'm
afraid of chronic diarrhea, but I am
so much more than my fears.
Have you ever had cheetos at a rest-stop before Modesto?
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
The trick with flaming hot Cheetos
Is to eat all that you want
Before you drink any water.
If you eat some, and then drink,
And then eat some more,
Your stomach will be an ocean
With breakers crashing to and fro
On the banks of your inner shores.
It will not feel nice, so make sure
To follow this advice; for I am, when
It comes to Cheetos, an old man who
Has for learned from my many years
Of eating one way, and eating the other.
And I have found the better of the two,
So heed my authority.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
Arrive in a neighborhood not mine.
Phoenix sun splits the mailboxes,
Cracked cement, bald lawns, deflated kiddie pools,
sippy cups gone brittle in the sun.
A toddler screams
until a sibling gathers him inside.
Helios whips his chariot down the street,
steals my parking space.
White Shell Woman hushes the child
with a wind of cool dust.
I buy
donuts, Cheetos, pickles-
eat them in the car.
Gas station sink, hair and grit.
I scrub off orange powder.
Kokopelli swings from the paper towel rack,
flicking drops of water onto my face,
flirting, laughing at my small hungers.
Cemetery, sitting on the hood.
Graves hum in the heat.
Yours more-so.
Hecate steps from the shadow of a mesquite,
offers me three paths,
none of them home.
Coyote pads along the stone wall,
head cocked, grin sharp,
watching my pulse quicken.
White Shell Woman whispers:
_Run._
The blood in me stirs-
knife-bright, restless.
I step off the hood,
already fleeing toward
any other life.
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 12:44 PM UTC
I ate a whole bag of
cheetos one at a time,
savoring each cheesy bite,
and watched two seasons of
South Park as my friend tried to
hit a vein.
**** man. I got little ones, they keep rolling.*
It took her hours.
Forearm
Shins
Wrists
Other arm
Calfs
"What the **** man, why even ******* bother? Why not just smoke it like everyone else?"
******* tweakers*
She says the high is worth it.
*That rush, man. Holy ****
But really,
no matter how ****
they are,
or used to be,
nobody likes
a spun out
tweaker *****
Nobody
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Walkin' thru the grocery store section,
To that aisle, yeah, it's not just con-cession...
Turn every crunch into Hea-ven, -yeah
(Oh, you are...)
Crun-chee on the coldest day
Taste buds explode, every, 'kind-of-way'
Make me wanna savor every moment of cheese-y, slow-ly
You pleasure me, my taste, taste buds, you put it on!
Got the taste-y, know how to turn it on...
The way I nibble on a pair, a clutch of fried corn, not an ear...
I take it easy, baby, so we can last long!
Oh! you, you feel crunchy 'in-my-mouth,' salivated,
not full...
Mouth like tasting, like an,
an amazing plan
Feel your taste, my mouth a pulse-Oh!
Oh, yeah -Ya, ya me in store aisle,
so nor-mal
Tostitos and Doritos, I say No Mas!
And so, no chip will, will replace you!
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
Please respect, it's just Cheetos,
No, no, I don't want no Doritos!
No matter what you ask it's not Dorit-o-os!
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
Nothing taste quite like Cheetos,
No Tostitos, no Doritos, nor a burrito.
I sound Spanish or Latin when I end words in a -oh,
Oh, OH YEAH,
Oh-o...
When I end my words in 'O'
Sounds like I know
Something like, I'm not loco?
Cheetos brands, -favoritos
(Favorito, favorito, ba-by)
Morning I don't like to 'Eat-oh'
Breakfast, eggs or -gritos
Instead I woof, -the Cheetos!
And know I voted, twice for Obam-ma,
Didn't even have, -American Mom-ma!
Car tires, Yoko-hama...
Back to my Latin voice, now, Oh-o...
You say to get that face and taste -eh he bang-bang
You say why doesn't it explodo like me mi bang-bang?
For me those chips you know there is no other
No question, fill your mouth, tongue, smother
Yo no other makes me sing it so suave
Impressive crunchy, disputes 'saliv-eh'
Pass it to, pass it too, suave to cheese oh?
No want your Doritos, doritos, ha doritos
Put that bag back in front, me, I'll destroy ya
Stop being malicious or I'll destroy yah!
Pass it to, pass it too, suave cause it Cheetos,
No want your Doritos, doritos, ha doritos
You want friends you better break out cheesus
There's no other way now to please us!
Oye!
crunch
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
When I end my words in 'O'
Sounds like I know
I know...
Something like, I'm not TA-CO?
Cheetos brands, -'favor-AH-ri-tos'
(Favorito, favorito, ba-by)
Morning I don't like to eat no
Breakfast, eggs or -gritos
Instead I woof, -some Cheetos!
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
This is how we do it up in Long Island, boroughs,
No tacos, burritos and no churros
all we ever want is those Cheetos!
Ay-o no burrito
Pass it to, pass it too, suave to cheese oh?
No want your Doritos, doritos, ha doritos
Put that bag back in front, me, I'll destroy ya
Stop being malicious or I'll destroy yah!
Pass it to, pass it too, suave cause it Cheetos,
No want your Doritos, doritos, ha doritos
You want friends you better break out cheesus
There's no other way now to please us!
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
Des Puh -CHEE-TOS!
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
fell into a hole of myself--
i know too much
a bag of cheetos in an ill-fitting suit
runs the country - made the mistake
of reading what it had to say
awhile ago
all in the stirring of a feather
my ego, my ignorance
smattering albiet aggressively in an annoying
aggregate, dog-bark bird-squacking
grating my effing ears
these 7am mornings
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Babe you are worse than late night ****
Sinful like fried chocolate cake
Ironic like chicken and waffles with a diet coke
Or using lard based dressing on a salad
You bad
Like menudo without lime
Like hot cheetos to my kidneys
My desire for you is like:
That nostalgia you feel like a lump in your chest
The first time you smoked ****
The first time you came
The first time you fell in love
I’m sad cuz you ain’t here
And glad you’re far away.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
Sometimes
There is no poetry
Playing Far Cry 3
Getting cheeched
Unlocking cheivos
Eating mac and cheese
4 monsters Yo!
MICROWAVE BURRITOS!
Chop sticks and cheetos
You need those
To keep your controller clean
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
The garbage in my room
Smells like embarrassment
It’s the hot Cheetos bag that sits in my desk
It’s the q-tips with earwax
The ideas that float around in my head
And my roommates toenail clippings
The garbage in my room
Clutters the free space
Taking up room that it should not take
The shopping bags and boxes
That held beautiful things
Now empty and cumbersome
The garbage in my room
Takes up my memory
Forgotten blog posts and poems
Fill the hard drive in my brain
Silly thoughts and quips
Only attempt to clear it out
The garbage in my room
Sits in the can
Thinking of ways to grow
Out of proportion
Waiting to spill out onto the floor
And start crawling up the walls
The garbage in my room
Needs to be taken out.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
WALKING FLAMING CHEETOS
Family intention
It’s amazing what one can accomplish with a little love, a pocket knife and soft words.
Frogs and crickets sing as rain drops fall.
I wasn’t creditable she wrote.
Looking ignorant optimisms make you. No water, just the tracks of a girl becoming a lady.
The irony of that is just breathtaking.
Bear hugs, dancing on my feet, being her personal jungle gym and hot limon crunchy flamin Cheetos.
Science might contest the will, putting the blame on me
As mommy's kisses save the day
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Cause we all need a
little humor in our lives:
Cheetos and coffee
can't let these assignments stop me
cause it's a hard knock life
being a student tryin' to get it right
protestin' those late nights
and drownin' in the red bull,
give me wings
& prepare my *** for finer things
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Deep inside the heart collides
With the majesty that is the sun.
And polyps grow on feet below -
Where the grandeur is forced to shun.
Grey gritty gravel gets jammed
Between my toes,
And flies through a rolled up twenty
To stay wedged far in my nose.
If sinus’s are clogged like pours,
Scratched by a Cheetos finger,
The rocks get stuck and Id mocks
While the crush starts to linger;
Numbs the cavity where inside lives
A thousand hungry hippies
Sitting still until they see
A cloud up on a water lily.
So set out to feed their queen bee
Whom lives inside the skull
(And) demands, commands, yearns and pleads
To feel that numbing null.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
This is
Almost all.
Cereal.
12 bites chocolate koala crispies
Chris along with some horizon
fat-free organic milk
but again 12 bytes.
Short stack flapjacks
Safeway maple syrup drenching it.
Patrick's IRA send it
One hot fudge sundae
from McDonald's
one half bite of hot fudge.
Six bytes of salsa recipe.
Four microwaved Chinese potstickers
Some HighC
orange lovers
I also ate Mark's soup
25 Cheetos
Xcessive?
I also ate some
of my accent.
One can Wolfgang Puck
used as a base
added some roasted
breast chopped
roughly 2 wings
scanner on onion
red rock refrigerator
did an onion
rings tile cut.
Think I know I'm
sorry sweetie
they are kind.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
We are talking about poetry
He is restricted to a black stroller
counting cheetos with
cheese-dust coated fingers
humming numbers, while
his papa leans on
his own crossed arms
eyes closing for too long
to be considered blinking
Seven cheetos
Let’s return to the poem
on page 238 in the book
now six cheetos
and five and his father
starts snoring
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
oh, my god,
stop praising little girls for being "tiny" and "slender" and "willowy"
for being skinny.
because the scale offers validation
and eating cheetos and twizzlers and cookies and candy without gaining a pound becomes an accomplishment
a sharp and boasting laugh
ha, ha! i can eat all the **** i want
and still be /skinny!/
because a girl will feel pride
in her ballerina legs and bony joints
and guilt
in her best friend wishing she were as small.
because "skinny" stops being an adjective
and becomes a definition.
because being skinny becomes
owning stacks and stacks of size zero jeans
but ******* and shimmying and squeezing your *** into them
(god forbid you buy a size two.)
skinny becomes looking flat in the midsection
but only if you eat triscuits for lunch that day
becomes seeing the outlines of individual ribs
but grabbing with a grimace the layer of fat and skin that covers them
becomes standing with legs spread apart and back tilted and eyes squinted
and looking maybe kind of like a forever 21 model,
until you sit and your thighs melt into huge endless expanses of tissue
becomes avoiding the bathroom scale because you told yourself two years ago you'd never get above double digits.
becomes knowing that most girls would **** for your body, or for the absence of your body - for the carved out spaces where flesh could be.
becomes feeling guilty, feeling ridiculous, feeling ungrateful
becomes never admitting to anyone that you feel anything but skinny.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
hold my mind
it feels like soaked cheetos
puffy and orange
my feet are calloused with thought
and i have been stringing along ties
with too many people
hold my head
as i think about the men i meet in transition
instability in the back of a kit kat bar
and Los Angeles literature
because disappointment bends the broken
the soft cranium crunch
split to be eaten
but built to be shared
hold my thoughts
because im falling asleep in elevators
no longer able to choose the floor
save me from the ponder
from putting bottle caps on shelves
the gravity of my fingertips keeps lighting candles upside down
creating limitless space and
useless entities
hold my belongings so my brain can breathe
because unlike my mouth it cannot reach
you are my deep breath
pudding melted in my lungs
ill have an affair with the Wonka man
just to keep me from loving you
he could store me in one of his rooms
drown me with the a heavy chest
of something dark and semisweet
hold my body and steal my soul
because i group anything you sphere
and my life keeps changing all the love i need
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
Honey.
12 bites chocolate koala crispies
Chris along with some horizon
fat-free organic milk
but again 12 bytes.
Short stack flapjacks
Safeway maple syrup drenching it.
Patrick's IRA send it
1 hot fudge sundae
from McDonald's.
1/2 bite of hot fudge
4 bites soft serve.
6 bytes of salsa recipe.
4 microwaved Chinese
potstickers some
HighC orange lovers
I create Mark's suit.
1 can Wolfgang Puck
used as a base
added some chicken
******* roasted
chopped roughly
Spoon cut.
2 wings
25 Cheetos
Xcessive?
I also ate
my accent.
Scan him some onion
red rock ringed
Reiterate Beings
tile cut.
Think I know I'm
sorry sweetie
they are kind
Of sinking.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
we were brave once
but we were told
to be sensitive
and empathetic
and walk a mile
in another’s shoes
and now ignorance
is mistook for brilliance,
and the only risks we
take involves which
flavor of cheetos
we get from the
gas station
we were great once,
I remind you
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 3:21 PM UTC
Chasey calls them the dead mama blues.
There's sadness, she says, mine has a scent to it;
Despair, a shabby **** who mugs me under my covers
On winter days at dawn,
Catatonia, which only a messy bed,a bong,a bag of Cheetos and a boy can cure,
And then way down from there,
Squatting *** close to the ground,
Smoking Gauloises in the dark,
Live the dead mama blues.
The only cure for the dead mama’s, Chasey explains,
Is a blood rare steak and Etta James greatest hits on vinyl,
Played quiet through the sweet spot of the night,
All the lights off, the dishes done and dry.
Helps if a sister has a slim hip man to dance with, she said,
So if you ain’t runnin’, the grill’s on me.
Come by sober any time after moon rise, Chasey yawned,
Cause this girl could use a shoulder and a polite hand.
And bring your slippers, she said
Easier to shuffle over **** in sheepskin, plus
We might go up on the roof later on
And smoke some of my cubans for a while.
Door will be open, so please don’t ring,
Hell what am I saying, you know the path.
Chasey yawned again, a big one,
Waited a few seconds because there was nothing else to say
And hung up the phone with a sigh.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
put the key in the ignition, the car into drive, and all your gross post-sex insecurities to the back of your mind. forget you don’t have a license. forget she’s asleep in the bed that knows your panic attacks like they’re a late-night tv special and roll out onto the road - don’t hit the neighbor’s buick - drive. drive.
take the route you used to sneak over to your boyfriend’s house in 7th grade. feel the ghosts of his hungry pubescent hands under your bra, get that old lump in your throat, wish you could go back in time and scream that you weren’t ready and that you’d never be ready and that one day you’ll be seventeen driving down his street hating the way he used to own you. remember that his street is also your street. remember that you’re worth owning things too.
pass by the house your best friend used to live in, back when summers meant hot cheetos and horchata instead of cigarettes and cheap sangria. pray that one day you’ll be that way again, happy and fearless and okay with being alone. scold yourself for praying.
forget where you’re going until your stomach growls and the road gets narrow. then keep driving.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
A recent BBC Headline reads: US orders ban on trans-fats. In a day when fat-discrimination has been thought to have stopped, the US is discriminating against the fine and upstanding obese community. Eliminating trans-fats from food will save lives by preventing heart attacks, but it will also eliminate fat jokes, which will set back standup comedy for years to come. Health experts say that Americans continue to consume too much foods with trans-fats, even with trans-fats information labeled on food; in scientific studies done by Dr. Kazuo Takitani, research shows that Americans "Do Not Give A **** about their health due to entitlement and fatty privilege. Taking trans-fats out of food will reduce coronary heart disease, but it will also make fat people who are stupid more confident, not necessarily smarter. Supporters of French Fries have taken to the streets and are calling on President Obama to stop the War on trans-fats. The Obama administration has responded with a statement in regards to the trans-fat crisis, and have said, "Go To The Gym." Obese people are in danger of becoming skinny, and already the obese population of the United States, are hoarding Cheetos and pizza rolls in their ***** packs, in order to stop the madness. In this day and age, health is a choice, skinny and **** people, the ones who are supporting the ban on trans-fats, do not know the irreparable damage they are doing to the fat American white male, who's narrative will always be ingrained in the American consciousness. A chubby boy named Paulie was interviewed earlier today as he was eating French fries and a large soda: "The government doesn't care about Fat people. We deserve better treatment. We matter. We exist. How am I supposed to survive without Mickey D's fries? Do I look like I can exercise? I'm moving to Canada." When Paulie was informed that Canada was strongly thinking about following in the US's footsteps, Paulie suffered from food coma and passed out in his chair. The United States is slowly turning towards becoming healthy and fi; many people oppose this trend, while others embrace it; all that can be said is that change will shocking, can give some people a new perspective on life. Stay tuned for more details. Now here's Marcus with today's weather report.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC