Meat Sweats


Meat Sweats
A poem by Send Wine Now
via the Tripe Marketing Board
Here it comes right now…

After the tripe, a sort of peace
Envelopes you, a sweet release
Of sadness, making room for hope
A robust sole on a slippery slope

A surge of warmth in the coldest heart
But then, alas, the meat sweats start
You brace yourself, they’re coming now
Like night of the living dead, but with cows

Into your life the meat sweats slide
And all you have achieved subsides
If you had known of their existence
You might have put up some resistance

And maybe had a nectarine
Or nibbled on an aubergine
Or pushed the tripe around your plate
Then said that you were running late

And made a run for it. But, friends,
This pain, it will come to an end
Just when it seems that death is nigh
A sudden searing offal high

Swathes you like a meat embrace
A bovine slap across the face
Primal, turbulent, impassioned
Your inhibitions lie unfastened

Raw, like a silverside of beef,
You calmly set aside your grief
Conclude that tripe is worth the pain
And welcome the meat sweats once again


words: @sendwinenow

apologies to They Might Be Giants


from the album Diving For Twirls by They Might Be Gannets

see also:

Tripe Mask Replica

The Price Of Tripe

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