Blah (an acrostic lament)

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Being sick is always sucky, especially when it’s your stomach and intestines

Listing there aimlessly, hoping for the internal torment to subside

And yet all you can do is moan and hope for a break in your condition

How many times can you count the bathroom tiles?

Feast (an acrostic poem)

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Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure

Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned

At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe

So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?

The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money

Lunch (an acrostic poem)

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Looking at her plate, she wondered how she had gotten here

Under the fluorescent yellow liquid cheese, a treasure trove of textures and flavors existed

Now her stomach rumbled in anticipation of the excavation ahead

Crunching a loaded tortilla chip, her tastebuds danced to the symphony of tastes

Hefting her beer and taking a swig, she smiled loving her little bit of heaven

Cliff (an acrostic poem)

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Coming up to the edge and looking down

Leaves her feeling butterflies in the stomach and light headed

It makes her feel like she could fly if she just had faith and took that last step.

Focusing on that feeling, she makes her decision and closes her eyes, allowing herself to drop

Falling backward, she lands on a pillow of grass, happy with her choice

Coffee (an acrostic poem)

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Cup of her liquid wakeup was held close to her nose

Olfactory sensors lit up her brain with anticipation

Followed with her stomach preparing for the scalding acidic onslaught

Fluid of the darkest black splashed and sloshed along her tongue

Everything in her mouth screamed as the heat seared her taste buds

Except she considered that her wakeup alarm symphony.  The day could now begin.

Crunch (an acrostic poem)

 

Chewing through the textures dancing in my mouth

Reveling in the amount of noise that escapes my piehole

Until everything Is broken down into the mush my stomach desires

Necessitating another bite of that audio and physical harmony

Chomping down on another symphony of mastication

Hope there are many encores!

 

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Pride (an acrostic poem)

 

Popping his shirt in victory

Regaling his opponent with trash talk

It would make most people sick to their stomach

Doing it to his twelve-year-old son, well that was over the top

Extreme hubris was his specialty, and this was his teaching moment

 

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Split (an acrostic alliteration)

 

So all this preponderance of togetherness made Pete practically sick to his poor stomach

Pushing people away was what Pete was professional at

Leave him in a group of pleasantly participating people

It was doomed to pyrotechnics and pointless pugilism

Then he would peace out, professing he had to pee.

 

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Villain (an acrostic poem)

Venomous words spewed with intense malice

It made the whole encounter even more toxic

Leaving me looking for the exit

Lo, there was no exit to be found

As I was cut off by more vile miscreants

It made me sick to my stomach

Now just because I had poisoned their water supply…

 

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