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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2272077
Slime Patrol to the Rescue for Dew Drop Inn
Three Poems

About Filth and Slime

Slime


Slime, Slime, Slime
As far as I can see
Is that all that can ever be

Mountains of foul, smelling dishes
Being eaten by drunk fishes

Fast, faster, faster
Comes the slime
I wish that I was eating a lime
Never want to touch this slime


Morning Thoughts

One morning
While I sat drinking my coffee
And bemoaning my fate

My brain decided to fly away to the land of bliss
As I sat drinking my coffee in the dawning light
Writing away my memoirs and dreams of love

I noticed that my brain's tissue
Had decided to take a vacation

And was crawling down my nose
And out of my ears
Like some sort of cosmic mucus

Down my slime encrusted back
And out the windows of my soul

I was of course
Disturbed, I was perturbed,
And until I realized

That I had no right
To tell my mind what to do
So I sat down

And played a game of checkers with my mind
Till the entreaty of time passed me by

Nothing but a piece of flotsam
On the winds of the universe
The walls fell down, the sky melted apart

And I woke up and sat down
And had an orgy with my mind.


Slime Patrol to The Dish room

Note: I washed dishes in college

Slime Patrol to the dish room please
Rant the loudspeaker with a demented static
Hell no, we chanted in vain

No where to go
No where to escape

The ever present smell
Of putrid rotting sweaty effervescent slime

That's right
Slime, slime, slime, slime

Slime
Slime
Slime

Slime
Slime

Slime

Is that all that there is?

N
O
T
H
I
N
G

B

U

T



S
L
I
M
E


Ruled by slime Kings who run Slime Machines?
Hell No, we won't go we chanted in vain

And we hook ourselves up
And entered the machine

S
L
I
M
E

P
A
T
R
O
L


T
O

T
H
E

D

i
S
H
R
O
O
M


Must get high
To deal with the slime

The god damned slime
Left overs

From the plates
Of the elite college kids

Who ate in the cafeteria
Never noticing the workers
Laboring behind in the kitchen

For them we are nothing
For we are all nothing but slime molds
In the gross wheels of America's grease pit

And they are the future masters
Of the universe
And we are their future slaves

Working in the slime pits
To feed them with slime

Slime
Slime

Slime



Hope they die
From ingesting the pink slime
In their corrupted food

Some day
The slime patrol
Will rise up

And slaughter them
While they eat our delicious slime

Until that day
We will do our duty
In the forgotten corners
Of the universe

Nothing
But
Slime




Hard work—write a poem about any kind of hard labor (physical, mental, emotional, etc.) you have done or observed
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