Dinner Bell - Original Poetry
Slow rolling across the cold metal.
Hard to clean every corner.
But surely you will forgive me.
It's not every day I have guests for dinner.
Started out so innocently.
Would you care for a cup of tea?
Step inside, it's hard to see.
All that glare from your halo.
We had to snuff it out.
The shadows within seeks darkness without.
An angelic visage we will not suffer.
A plan hatches, care for supper?
The beans are ready, carrots peeled.
Potatoes oh so soon to yield.
That creamy flesh, so ripe and plump.
And a slab of tender rump.
We need is some salt, have a care?
It's just down that lil ol'stair.
Look to the left and push the switch.
Mind the first, it's a son of a bitch.
SLAM
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