Hour Fourteen

For this prompt I want you to write about food. Literary writing with a theme has become much more popular lately and there are a surprising number of literary journals devoted to publishing creative work about food. You can tackle this theme from any angle. You can write about how much you love or hate a certain kind of food, you can rant about gluten intolerance, you can write about your favorite meal, or what food you loved as a child. The particulars are all up to you.
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“Hey,
do you want to go get some
food?
I hear the new pizza place is good.”

America loves pizza.
It’s a fact.
Check it out if you want.
I don’t really care.

What I do care about are
scabbing,
oozing cow tits
that are being sucked
until they bleed.

I care about
a “food” supply that is
degrading to the point
where Surgeon
General Warnings
are required on candy
for children.

I care that we throw away
more food than we ingest—
that the sheer
volume of waste from this
greedy
self-centered
ignorant
puss bucket of a society
is enough to feed tens of millions daily.

I don’t care about the new Taco Hell breakfast
doodad, or the original McShit now for a dollar!

I do care about
corporations that sabotage
the livelihood of
employees by imprisoning
them in a labor force
that looks more like
indentured servitude
than anything else.

I do care about
conniving business tactics
such as
scheduling thirty nine hours per week
to maim workers
candidacy for health benefits,
overtime—
and in effect to keep them
dependent
but in a constant state of
social immobility.

I do care that
wages are so staggeringly low
that they are debilitating.

I do care that the people who feed us are
severely underpaid
deserving
and angry
and it is our duty to help.

I don’t care that I can get bloated in fifteen minutes
or less—or my money back.

I care that gluttony grips
the fat,
triple chinned throats
of people who claim
to follow God,
to follow Jesus–
to follow whatever
religious deity they want–
as they watch reruns of
their favorite sitcoms and
sink deeper into couches—
eyes glazed over,
pure lethargy as starving children
beg for money during the commercials.

I care that
diabetes runs rampant
because a corrupted “food”
industry discovered greater profits
from using addictive syrup.

I do care that
farmers are whipped
into obedience by
threat of lawsuits from
massive
international
pirate
conglomerates
that hire swarms of legal representation until the
beaten down farmer whimpers into submission, again.
I do care about Food. Do you care about Food?

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