GLOBALISED

 

 My toothpaste comes from Romania,

 My bed comes from Vietnam,

 My coffee was packed in Spain,

 My hand sanitizer originates from Utrecht,

 But my headache pills are British,

 Handpicked by loyal yokels,

 In the paracetamol orchards of Devon.

 I am about to eat some Polish garlic sausage,

 I have just eaten some French jam,

 And sadly,my international consumption

 Could be threatened by a container ship,

 Which is as long as my street,

 Loaded with containers.

 That are full of containers.

 And is jammed in the Suez Canal.

 I need more vaccine from Belgium,

 To ward off infection by a virus,

 Allegedly originating in Chinese bats.

 In fact, I am so globalised that,

 I am becoming spherical in shape.

 Nonetheless I remain.

 Stubbornly almost monolingual 

 And forced to inhabit

 A xenophobic island.

A SADISTIC SALAD RECIPE

 

A SADISTIC SALAD RECIPE

I love torturing vegetables

I treat them worse than the KGB, the Gestapo,

Special Branch or the CIA.

I imprison them in a dark cold fridge,

Then I roust them out brutally,

Screaming things like

“Where are you?

You can’t hide at the back of the shelf,

Come out, you mangey tout!”

Some I seize, and throw immediately,

Into boiling water whole.

Some I slice with sharp blades,

Then hurl them into an oily bowl.

Some I skin, and some I scrape,

Some I even eat raw,

But none escape my greedy teeth

And my ever-chomping maw