This is the third in the White Fire Series of poems. To read more, click the red button below.
chips
chips are very social
you can share them in a room
but only if I offer
it’s not your place to presume
that i'd even want to proffer
as i could be very hungry
when you reach across and steal a chip
that makes me rather grumpy
in fact i’m kind of pissed off
'cos your taking my food
and it puts me in a darkened state
an extremely bad mood
wondering if i’m selfish
or if i'm making a fuss
about something over nothing
but my prerogative I trust
it may be easy pickings
my potato delights
that come in bite sized pieces
mighty carbohydrate prize
but didnt give my permission
and i’ll defend my nutrition
with your thoughtless selfish bully tactic
sycophantic prophylactic
you’re acting like a seagull
with intended robbery
your satanic eyes
feathered disguise
swooping in
opportunist sin
you steal from me
and my children
it's true and you know it
and you don't bloody care
cos you're an evil seagull
hanging in the air
waiting for that moment
when you crap on my head
steal my chips
and fly away
before you go to bed
it’s my secret ambition
that you get a blinkin' shock
next time your hand - reaches out
I'll stab you with my fork
you didn’t ask
and i’d say no
so don’t ask
don't say "please"
'cos my food is exactly mine
and doesn't come for free
afterall,
in the beginning
and at the end
it’s
MY
precious
food.
Listen
Words and voice by Suzy Starlite. Recorded by Simon Campbell at the Supertone SonicLab. ℗ © Supertone Records, 2025.
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