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Give Me Meat

Give me meat;
That is what true men, hunters, eat.
Don’t tell me what is not good for my health;
Let it be charcoal grilled and well spiced,
Slowly cooked till I’m sinfully enticed,
Then tease me till I shamelessly beg for a bite.

Don’t give me bones;
Bones are for dogs, beggars, who have no choice.
Why give me something I can’t eat?
Give me a double portion of what mama gave,
That I may not look like a malnourished slave
For what use is there in eating bones,
When meat at home abounds like stones.

Let its aroma waft through the window,
Slowly and tantalizingly tickling me silly,
And may it cause the annoying neighbors to salivate,
Let it be tempting far beyond endurance,
Till I happily break my rather forced fast.

Give me,
Lean meat,
Dark meat,
Bush meat,
Fatty meat,
Give me mmmmmm,
Really, it doesn’t matter,
Just let it be meat.

Serve me with meat; I’ll have it on a stick,
Make it colorful; tease my eyes,
Then sit with me, let me teach you
The proper and many ways to feast like a king.

Give me an African Woman with Ghetto hips,
And please, put some meat on her for goodness sake.

*****October 13, 2009*****

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The Vulture

In times of famine,
The Vulture does not eat grass.
When Leopards are lean
because antelopes nowhere to be seen
The Vulture sits and watches,

Those who mocked his baldness
Will do well to remember
None has seen the Vulture's corpse
And he is secure in the knowledge that none will.

when it rains
And they mock him
For having no nest still,
He holds his peace,
For the Vulture, he's a patient animal.

The Vulture is not vindictive,
Those who mocked will die,
Those who didn't will die,
It matters not.
For when carcasses lay ripe
The Vulture does not ask
If his feast was once friend or foe

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