the year of lyrics: a poetry project

my search for inner-peace, one poem at a time

Day 180 – Busog

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It’s hard to stick to ideals when my stomach yearns for more meals

If you know me well enough, then you know when I’ve had enough

I announce it quite frequently

No I don’t live too subserviently

It used to be the case when, in my household, sharing your compliments to the chef wasn’t taken as respect

Then over time, as I’d often rhyme, I’d release and unleash the ridiculous eruption

*Belch*

No, I promise I mean no harm, no disrespect; in fact, I’m impressed

Impressed by the chef’s ability to re-instill in me the love for the home-cooked,

The comfort,

The take-out,

The special delivery,

The expensive,

The high end, and low end,

The proper and the informal.

Why do you think I’m rather vocal about letting you know?

And everyone knows,

Size does not matter.

For the endless pit that fits the most outrageous amounts, the most copious amounts,

Of tantalizing morsels and succulent cuts of meat

And steamed, sautéed, blanched, grilled and baked vegetables, paired with double or triple the amount of carbohydrates

Yes – I may be a little rude when my belches intrude, but maybe that means I just love all my food.

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