About the Poem
This is a strange trip through the problems that exist for the coffee addict
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Bad Coffee Mojo
|by James Bowie|
I used to love to drink coffee.
That was before I began to grow old and feeble
(which at 26 is a hard reality to face,
considering I will be a feeble old man for quite some time)
Just this morning I realized that coffee and I are not friend,
even on a casual basis.
I long for the days when I could drink half a pot
without 32 trips to the bathroom for multiple reasons
(which is so personal I will not discuss the rudiments of bowel care)
As I made my few cups of coffee this morning
the first thing I noticed was the lack of a filter
due to the huge amounts of grounds I swallowed on my first sip.
Coffee grounds when mixed at a good strong consistency
makes for a very convincing ipecac
(Ipecac is a substance designed to make you throw up,
usually when you do not expect it and often spurts
like a geyser over you closed hands
while leaving a meeeeesssssy trail to the bathroom)
I know that I should not complain
but I know that last night I put a filter in there
along with two scoops of fresh coffee.
So as I heaved my last and wiped the caustic drool
with the back of my hand,
I turned to look from the bathroom
and saw my dog grinning from ear to ear.
He probably thought it was fun,
as I see him doing it all the time.
He might actually enjoy it
and thinks that maybe he is finally getting me
to come around to his way of life.
Well as I pushed myself up I suddenly felt his mind enter mine,
and he said "oh no I don't think you are done yet"
as suddenly he pounced on my back
and grasped the back of my head with his paws.
He was yelling "look at this, look at that mess, you clean that up, bad man bad man",
then he slowly rubbed my face in the trailing refuse.
I tried to get away
but he was suddenly stronger
and I suddenly hairier and four legged.
I started to yelp as his paws became hands
and he dragged me outside
and hooked me to a long shiny chain.
What the hell has happened to me,
I began to think as I peered in through a window
stretched out on my hind legs.
And then I saw that he was me,
we had changed places
while he sat in there and ate biscotti
with his freshly brewed coffee.
What has happened to me,
what whar awroo roo ruff ruff.
Hmmm where is some grass.