Bratwurst, knockwurst, bockwurst, weisswurst, bierwurst, wienerwurst, blutwurst
There's meat here, it's true,
But we use every part of the animal.
Nothing gets cut out, nothing goes to waste.
It's all tenderized, chopped, minced, ground,
Spiced, diced, mashed, pickled, fermented,
Smoked, boiled, broiled, grilled, fried,
But that's just the content.
It's the medium that massages the meat,
The tube that turns us on as we turn it on,
It's all squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.
Rolled, and scrolled. Rolled, and scrolled.
It's the tube that turns to cause the form.
The tube is the transmission.
The tube tells the tale.
The tube is the transition.
The tube trips the traveler.
The tube is the transformation.
The tube is the vacuum, fall up, eons follow
Big bang! The tube is the torpedo!
Wherever we go, we remain inner tube.
We are tubes within tubes within tubes,
Worming our way into the morning light,
Only to feed the worms in the darkness of night.
The tube tolls for thee.
The tube you'll arbite, bellowing.
The tube sets the tone, and pipes the tune.
The tube plumbs the depths, a tunnel keeping time.
The tube takes a twist,
Meat, and twist, meat, and twist again.
The twist gives definition,
Beginnings and endings,
The twist marks life and death,
The twist and the 'tween,
Twist and shout,
Ollie, oxen free.
The twist brings connection,
The twist that ties, and binds, and chains,
Links begat links begat links begat links,
Post that meat, then link, link, link,
Link a lot, Lance, links for the memories,
Links are so hyper, links are so hot—hook up!
Links for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,
We are what we eat: tubes that go linking!
Send a salami to your boy in the army!
Salami, Salami, Salami, Bologna!
My words are twisted by the blog into wordwursts,
Sausaged into tubes and squeezed into posts,
Sausages and postages,
I saw sages go sailing through the night, and the day,
Switching packets, any port in the electrical storm,
May God watch over them, for they're all on their own,
I know not what they do.
Bangers! Keep 'em flying, gang, bombs away!
Kielbasa! Sweet, sweet, sword in hand!
Chorizo! Sizzling, stiff, and so spicy!
Mortadella! Dig we must, and deeply, here we go!
Braunschweiger, mustamakkara, sosis, sucuk.
Frankfurter, hot dog, Slim Jim.
Poetry packed into a tube,
The meatium is the mess, aged. They are
Extensions of the intestines,
Don't ask how they are made.
Just eat them.
Just read them.
Just greet them.