 What is going down, my Poetri.com family? Here are some of the classic pieces that you have heard on Def Poetry Jam along with some new joints that you haven't heard! Whatever your preference take a peek, listen to all the poems you want and then buy as many as you like for .99 cents each. WHATTA DEAL!!! | Krispy Kreme and other fat food poems by Poetri
Krispy KremeAll I want to know is...where did Krispy Kreme doughnuts come from? What sick man invented this? I see the sign everyday...cause I'm in there every FRICKEN day!!! This black militant fella once told me that Krispy Kreme used to be called KRISPY KREME KROISANTS! AH-HA!! Kroisant...spelled with a K...just like the rest of their names... meaning K-K-K! They were started to keep the black man down and round. Once the revolution came back around all the black men would be too fat to fight, going through withdrawal symptoms addicted to the KKK made to order glazed drugs... I mean, donuts! But everyday I see white people inside Krispy Kreme. Cause I am in there every FRICKEN day! I even saw the black militant fella in there one time, so I think it is save to say that he was lying. All the same Krispy Kreme is still trying to kill me. Just like the KKK, the CIA and the DEVIL!!! There stock has jumped leaps and bounds since they met me. Or should I say since I met them...on that cold rainy night. It was love at first taste. Glazed melted in my mouth like a waffle from Roscoes. And I remember thinking in Shakespearean, "What freshesth taste hath fallenth from grace into thine mouth?" They know me on a first name basis when I walk in. I'm like Norm from "Cheers" "POETRI!!!!!" When I roll through the drive-thru,they know my voice, "What's up, Poetri? The usual?" NO, I DON'T WANT THE USUAL!!! OKAY, GIVE ME THE USUAL!!! I try to disguise my voice at times and think I'm pretty good. You should hear my Fat Albert But they know it's me. Cause I can only do fat people. It's not fair. I already have French Fries I have to deal with... now this. I must always fight this temptation of the creation or the perfect fattenning food... Krispy Kreme!!! Others are addicted to lighter stimulants like alcohol or cigarettes. And while I'm not making light of any of those addictions, Many overlook the trouble and pain I go through. I just recently realized that I'm fixated to food. It's
no laughing matter, Food is a chemical substance that makes me feel better
when I'm depressed. I'm living proof that food is a drug. The aroma alone sometimes keeps me intoxicated. It started when I was a baby. Yet even then, I didn't comprehend the extent of the problem. And so many times I've tried since then but I can't! Now
I'm at the end of my rope! I’m not talking about fighting the urge or fighting temptation. I’m talking about taking it to the streets, rolling up my sleeves and getting straight gangster on the mug! I want to punch Fruit punch in the face. And then spit on it as it lies on the ground all sprawled out. And it better tell any bad thing that my body is on the rampage. I want to take a French fry and squeeze it all up in my hands and make it mashed potatoes! I know that French fries never stand alone, so all of its little homies will try to rush up on me, hoping that I will break down and eat them instead of smashing them, so trust me, I’ll come prepared. I’m about to go 187 on an undercover potato! I’ll be ready for all his cousins, the Potato chip click, the Cheeto mafia, and the Frito family. I'll look that little scrawny punk fry right in the eye and say, “ Look, Mr.! Call your all little bambinos for help, only if you want to see them die!! I’m gonna hurt those no good for nothing fries so bad that I might cry!” I don’t want to see your face around here anymore. No longer are you going to be coming in my house And staying for three or four days unwanted Messing up my cholesterol, giving me heartache, And then dozing off in my stomach! I’ve been sleeping with the enemy! My mouth door is locked…and the only thing allowed in is fruits and veggies. I want to take fried chicken and break each of its legs, until he begs for mercy. I want to rip its thighs into pieces, And then throw them in the nearest garbage disposal, And dare that punk to say something about it, I’m about to get ghetto with my butt whippings. Get gangster on that fool if he tries to loc up, Kick it‘s breast, for trying to perpetrate that it‘s healthy. I’m ready to break Fried Chicken’s neck, so, he’ll never cluck again, never see the light of day again, payback for all the pain he’s caused, for all the high blood pressure in my family, for the death of my daddy and both of my granddaddies. Not too mention all of the people that have been addicted! This payback is a mother beeep, and I ain’t about to curse, yet! But, I’m about to shoot you like a cursin’ gangster! Drag you through the mud after I tie you up to the back of the car, ride through town, let all the little chicken heads see what I’m about to do to all fried chicken , if I catch them anywhere near me or my family. I’m living for my child now, and somehow, Fried foods no longer fit in my picture. So, if I see you on my plate, I’m gonna get ya’! I want to kill Donuts, Reese’s, and Apple pies, anyone in the Sweets family, better not come near me!! Respect me…nah, better yet, fear me!!! My family is too dear to me. I will protect them at any cost, I’ll beat a Reese’s down, cause I ain’t the one! Scrape off the chocolate skin and leave it to melt in the sun. Then I will take the peanut butter part and stick it to the bottom my shoes. So that every time I walk, I’ll be stepping on it! I’ll put 6 bullets in a donut, make it die fast! I’m putting ya’ll on blast, you will not last when I put my wrath on ya’! I want to stab Apple Pies until it bleeds Apple Juice! Stab a hot dog in the face rather than shove it down mine. I’m running out of time. I should have done this a long time ago, I’m getting gangster with my food, have all unhealthy things riding home in a hearse Bad food is a curse, but I am about to shatter it, As I break down the enemy piece by piece! Back to Poems |