Poem #8

May 8th IN A STEW

blokes cooking up a storm alone in the kitchen in the zone by the stove with the camera and the crew cooking surgically for you and they have diced it spiced it scored it iced it butterflied and marinated like no one ever stewed a fucking stew before and every dish a winner puts a grin on every viewer no one ever utters yish! what the fork is in this dish it’s all orgasmic umm…delish juicy piquant freshly caught so organic baked with thought meanwhile mum is in her apron chops three veg egg chips and bacon slicing sangas pots of yoghurt lunchbox duty spag and bog what’s for dinner? ask your dad he wants the winner to be Brad the one who braised that fennel flan and blitzed the gizzards with his hands food as showbiz sous-chef wizard competition kale and lizard macho shoot-out kitchen bitchin’.


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