Chopsueycide, a recipe for disaster.

poem by: Raychill Ellisonwonderland
Written on Jun 17, 2016

Chopsueycide; They’re gathering for the feast this time,  last time it was a roasting. 

Chopsueycide; With taro and coconutter scream an acquired taste that’s guaranteed to raise temperatures but not pulses. 

Chopsueycide; added ginger will certainly blow your head off, and the last breath of garlic will keep them away for sure while the onions will positively make them cry cry cry... 

...But those damn useless good for nothing CARROTS WILL NOT make anyone see any better! 

Chopsueycide; They'll ensure the scissors they use to cut the tendon like vermin-celli down to bite size are sharp like the butcher knives that sliced through body parts and backbone. 

Chopsueycide; Their words blunt and thug like the mallet that pulverised the dead flesh now simmering and stewing in dark soy sauce. 

Chopsueycide; Finished off by a side of humble pie with a sweet stench of unsuccessfulness, suffocated by whippings of garroted cream and garnished with sour grapes. 

Chopsueycide; A popular dish best served cold.

Chopsueycide, a recipe for disaster.


Tags: humor, metaphor, dark,

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Christopher Russon commented:
Really good poem. Sounds like my cooking.


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