the search for meaning meating

and so it was, the black sheep of the breed
who hated sunday brunches in the garden
would take to hiding beneath the old sofa

the young man-eater could not find serenity
so he sat and played with his kewpie dolls
he dressed them in lacy pantaloons
and fed them to brimming with liver smoothies
but it seems they were protein intolerant
they emptied themselves over momma’s rug

and so he’d switched paradigms, from meat to veg
he’d tried hard to forget his rabid hunger
looking in to find a peace within the zen

the young man-eater could not find serenity
so he joined a chinese calligraphy course
but the paper and ink were a reminder
of the tattooed flesh he’d not had for supper
all flustered, he confused two similar glyphs
and got kicked out for insulting chairman mao

and so he realised the power of his words
he well knew what it was he would have to do
he would help himself by preaching to others

the young man-eater could not find serenity
so he formed the gloomiest black metal band
and he called it ‘benighted rutabaga’
it became widely known in narrow circles
for none ever bothered to attend their gigs
still, they protected the rights of vegies all

and so he sang and roared his frustrations out
the voice of one crying in the wilderness
then went and rejoined sunday family brunch

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

15 thoughts on “the search for meaning meating”

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