The "outdoor smorgasbord" war. From, "Five Score More Tails From Offshore with Mythic Fish Mischief Galore. (unpublished)
Most gardening years I grow way too much stuff.
Coming out of my ears, just can't eat enough.
Canning to tears and gave to those with it rough.
Now for a few beers and some fun food fighting fluff.
Compost for sure but it's good low fat fun
and most can endure butt splats with a melon
or the rat-a-tat-SpLaT! of a radish machine gun
and pick up and whack back with a cabbage cannon.
The icky lettuce and spinach is only for grinnage,
it tickles and itches when it gets in my finnage. >-=^;>
...'The eggplant in the sky', a profound, frightening image
as the peppers fly by in this veggie fling scrimmage.
The tomatoes have taste but, they're all over the place
and seem just a waste not to paste to your face.
Now it's hard to make haste in a pumpkin embrace
but what a lovely lambaste, just in case.
All hail the kale, sent high speed air mail
now so slimy and pale just the thought makes one wail
as it sails with a flail and the composting pail,
though the impact won't ail, that smell's a detail.
...And now smell the power of brown cauliflower
raining down like a shower and reeking so sour.
I take cover and cower by the bean trellis tower.
This war was a wower in the gardens last hour.
I stagger and stumble...I took an incoming number!
I manage to mumble, "you're not supposed to throw lumber!"
While I fade, I just grumbled, as my head slips to slumber,
"taken out and encumbered by a concretious cucumber!"
With a recluses refuse, the blast we've all had.
Profuse "pew juice' is the gardens last ballad.
Coming to from my snooze, my state's deduced, sad.
I'm in a bowl full of offal, stale produce salad!