Shallow Poetry Wednesday
Shallow Thought Wednesday guru John Lindner offers poetry this week. His inspiration was not scrapple, but Baltimore's new food czarina, Holly Freishtat. Here's John. LV
I was surprised that the Sandbox didn't jump all over news of Baltimore's new "food czar." In preparation for the coming tsunami of culture and access, I'm stocking up on salt, butter and other hazardous materials.
The Bureaucratty
‘Twas bordain, and the cindy loaves
Got drier and rubb’ry in the wabe
All rayon were the ovengloves
And the gumbo fee-layed.
Beware the Freishtatmom, my hon!
Your bacon bits, your scrapple batch
Don’t salt the soup du jour, and run
from legislative handicraft
He took his spatula in hand
Long time a cooking show he sought
With all his recipes memorized
And gadgets that he bought
And as he added cheese to meat
The Bureaucrat crept from behind
Banning, as she snuck, his treats
With his best interests in mind.
He served raw milk and buttered scones
He even smoked a cigarette!
Without regard for healthy bones
And caught her in his greasy net.
“Hast thou flipped off the Bureaucrat?
Come to my arms, my voltish boy!
O crabfest day, O more Old Bay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas bordain, and the cindy loaves
Got drier and rubb’ry in the wabe
All rayon were the ovengloves
And the gumbo fee-layed.
Photo by Jacqueline Munoz courtesy Stock Xchnge
Your bacon bits, your scrapple batch
Don’t salt the soup du jour, and run
from legislative handicraft
He took his spatula in hand
Long time a cooking show he sought
With all his recipes memorized
And gadgets that he bought
And as he added cheese to meat
The Bureaucrat crept from behind
Banning, as she snuck, his treats
With his best interests in mind.
He served raw milk and buttered scones
He even smoked a cigarette!
Without regard for healthy bones
And caught her in his greasy net.
“Hast thou flipped off the Bureaucrat?
Come to my arms, my voltish boy!
O crabfest day, O more Old Bay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas bordain, and the cindy loaves
Got drier and rubb’ry in the wabe
All rayon were the ovengloves
And the gumbo fee-layed.
Photo by Jacqueline Munoz courtesy Stock Xchnge
Comments
I think that would be great set to a sappy Italian tune and played on...let's see...yes, the mandolin.
Posted by: rdc | May 19, 2010 12:20 PM
I will never abandon butter!
Posted by: Anonymous | May 19, 2010 1:45 PM
One of the secrets of life is that all that is really worth the doing is what we do for others.
Thanks for the poem, jl. That was some glorious nonsense.
Posted by: Lewis Carroll | May 19, 2010 1:55 PM
Baltimore's new food czarina, Holly Freishtat
It might be nice to know what that means. Perhaps a post on Dining@Large?
Good point. I shouldn't make you wait until you get to the link in the poem. I'll add one in the intro. LV
Posted by: Franklin Sings | May 19, 2010 3:54 PM
Franklin Sings, if you click the Freishtatmom hyperlink in the poem, you'll be taken to the Sun article on the appointment of the food czarina, which should suffice to let you know what it means.
ReCaptcha: Bruce arafat (who knew?)
Posted by: hmpstd | May 19, 2010 4:16 PM