Ode to Spam by Charlie Johnston Oh SPAM! Oh SPAM! Gourmet delight! My food by day, my dreams by night. To carve, to slice, to dice you up - pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup. What shining deity from Olympus knelt down to the earth and hog butt smelt? Creating then man's eternal desire for swine entrails congealed by fire. On some corporate farm, a pig has died. Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside that cube of SPAM hidden in the can I now hold in my trembling hand. More than mere food, SPAM is for me a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee. Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses. My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes. Long have my arteries clogged to the sound of sizzling SPAM when there's no one around - furtively chewing or swallowing whole. Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal. Other processed meat products I've tried or declined Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pig's feet in brine. Though each may be tasty in different ways, none matches SPAM for gelatinous glaze. That glistening pinkness beckons me with gristle, fat, and BHT. Oh Spam, my Spam - the taste, the smell - The sacred meat product from Hormel. Send this poem to a friend 1 Ode to a Mammogram For years and years they told me, "Be careful of your breasts." Don't ever squeeze or bruise them, and give them monthly tests. So, I heeded all their warnings.....and protected them by law.... Guarded them very carefully, and always wore a bra. After 10 years of careful care, the doctor found a lump. He ordered up a mammogram to look inside that clump. "Stand up very close," the nurse said, as she got my tit in line, "And tell me when it hurts," she said. "Ah, yes....that's just fine." She stepped upon a pedal....I could not believe my eyes, A plastic plate was pressing down....My boob was in a vice.... My skin was stretched and stretched from way up by my chin, And my poor tit was being squashed to Swedish pancake thing...... Excruciating pain I felt, within it's vice-like grip, A prisoner in this vicious thing.....My poor defenseless tit...... "Take a deep breath" she said to me. Who does she think she's kidding? My chest is smashed in her machine, I can't breathe and woozy I am getting! "There, that was good" I heard her say, as the room was slowly swaying. "Now let's get the other one."........"Lord have mercy," I was praying. It squeezed me from the up and down, it squeezed me from both sides, I'll bet she never has this done to HER tender little hide. If I had no problem when I first came in, I surely have one now...... If there had been a cyst in there, it would have popped Ker-Pow! This machine was made by a MAN, of this I have no doubt..... I'd like to get his balls in there.....for months he'd go WITHOUT! Send this poem to a friend 2 My Very First Time The sky was dark The moon was high All alone just she and I Her hair was soft Her eyes were blue I knew just what She wanted to do Her skin so soft Her legs so fine I ran my fingers Down her spine I didn't know how But I tried my best I started by placing My hands on her breast I remember my fear My fast beating heart But slowly she spread Her legs apart And when I did it I felt no shame All at once The white stuff came At last it's finished It's all over now My first time ever At milking a cow..... Send this poem to a friend 3 Ultimate Haiku The only problem with Haiku is that you just get started and then - Author unknown Send this poem to a friend 4 I'm Glad I'm A Woman I'm glad I'm a woman, yes I am, yes I am I don't live off of Budweiser, beer nuts and Spam I don't brag to my buddies about my erections I won't drive to Hell before I ask for directions I don't get wasted at parties and act like a clown and I know how to put the damned toilet seat down! I won't grab your hooters, I won't pinch your butt my belt buckle's not hidden beneath my beer gut and I don't go around "readjusting" my crotch or yell like Tarzan when my head-board gets a notch I don't belch in public, I don't scratch my behind I'm a woman you see -- I'm just not that kind! I'm glad I'm a woman, I'm so glad I could sing I don't have body hair like shag carpeting It doesn't grow from my ears or cover my back When I lean over you can't see 3 inches of crack And what's on my head doesn't leave with my comb I'll never buy a toupee to cover my dome Or have a few hairs pulled from over the side I'm a woman, you know -- I've got far too much pride! And I honestly think its a privilege for me to have these two boobs and squat when I pee I don't live to play golf and shoot basketball I don't swagger and spit like a Neanderthal I won't tell you my wife just does not understand stick my hand in my pocket to hide that gold band or tell you a story to make you sigh and weep then screw you, roll over and fall sound asleep! Yes, I'm glad I'm a woman, a woman you see you can forget all about that old penis envy I don't long for male bonding, I don't cruise for chicks join the Hair Club For Men, or think with my dick I'm a woman by chance and I'm thankful it's true I'm so glad I'm a woman and not a man like you! Send this poem to a friend 5
