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The winner is the one
who swallows the most hot dogs
in the allotted time
multiplied by the number
in his or her chosen group
who die of starvation
in the same period of time.
The art, in choosing one’s group,
is to distinguish those
who are close to starvation
from those who are merely very,
very hungry.
I always wondered and shocked by the irony (or is it hypocrisy) of eating contests, when one is forced to eat while others have no choice but starve. The way you present it makes the poem a winner.
Yeah, our part of the world is looking more and more like the latter days of the Roman empire in all it's bacchanalian excess. Too bad I don't get to partake, although 60 hot dogs in my tummy is not how I would choose to do it.
Insightful and reflective, Prince.
How is it that I ramble on and on and on and end up with poems that don't make sense to sensible people, and then I see these two-liners by you, and sigh and say "there, now."?
There, now, PrinceMyshkin.
This one makes you think. I agree with the message.
The first stanza is very effective, economic word use. It's efficient. Establishes tone and context.
Well done!
Thanks a lot, Haunted. I hesitated to post this poem because - as you yourself feel - the concept is so ugly!
And thank you Grit, Symphony and Qimisung.
It is and then followed on by the show 1001 ways to die where a woman who liked to be vomited on during sex sought out these winners of hot dog comps choked to death when one lodged in her own throat seems to be the most grossest form of justice there is...still it would be hard to write a stanza about that part!
Yours are the poems I always find more within on rereading.