Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Junk Food (08/30/12)
- TITLE: One Big Giant Diabolical Machine of Lust
By Nancy Bucca
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Exists a slimy cavity of sinister renown,
A factory that dishes out a smorgasbord of fright,
A slew of rabid vices dipped in mounds of cellulite.
This garbage dump of infamy fed by the upper crust
Is one big giant diabolical machine of lust,
Designed to clog the arteries of wholesome appetites
With donut holes and jelly rolls and other flesh delights.
Let's step into the kitch', where Ichabod and Ego Fat,
With copious icky bodies gather 'round a boiling vat.
They wish to form an army made of cotton candy clones,
Religious airheads full of fluff, no marrow in their bones.
Behold Old Lady Idol Lips who samples their Fish Kisses,
Temptation in a chocolate bar. "Delicious Dish," she hisses
"These fruits of Eden's knowledge tree impart a thrilling buzz...
"Oh no, I think I've gulped a fly, my tummy's all a-fuzz."
To chase the bugging lure, she must a greater lie consume,
Wrapped in a stinging mesmerizing marshmallow cocoon,
The gossip morsels go down smooth; she says, "I'm doing well,"
Until she feels the wiggle of the spider sent from hell.
This snare of Jezebel ties her intestines in a knot.
To get relief from its control requires a potent shot
Of leap frog puffed with pride, which sweeps her jiggling innards clean.
The woman's getting jumpy now, her face is turning green
This would-be godly warrior grows sicker by the hour,
In need of greater toxins her digestive tract to scour.
She tries a firecracker cat, an "I'm so sorry" fix.
It's one big act. True death to self? It won't fit in the mix!
From there it's on to howling dogs clothed in a sticky bun,
Add in a little ravening wolf to magnify the fun
And justify the gnashing cravings of decayed enamel.
No teeth left now, they've all been drilled. It's time to try a camel.
The biggest demon of them all, clothed in a wisdom mantel,
Says, "Everyone's a god, here's all the freedom you can handle."
Soon "Void your mind and meditate" becomes her new addiction,
Sheer blind asceticism moving forward her affliction.
She lives off moldy manna now, and dreams of latter rain
To water this harsh desert place, her frail hopes to sustain.
The camel's sapped her soul of rain. "Please help, don't let me die,
I can't survive this arid land!" she cries out with a sigh.
The words that leave her mouth feel just like empty calories,
Adept at swallowing a camel just to strain some fleas.
Each artificial treat she ate was quite a taste sensation,
Yet in the end it only led to doom and condemnation.
Hell's gaping trash heap jaws await if she does not repent,
And yield her life to God's own Son, the One from heaven sent.
As ashen tongue meets fallow ground, she wonders if she could
Surrender all her evil wants and choose the food that's good.
Eventually the dream wears off, the prodigal awakes,
"Man what a tasteless nightmare brand of frosted sugar flakes!
I'm beaten like a rotten egg that's put on too much weight,
I can't believe the spiritual junk food that I ate.
I'm tired of this Legion that keeps on tormenting me,
It won't stop gnawing on my fears and insecurity.
To feed those slobbering pigs is something I cannot afford.
I think I'd rather feast upon the glory of the Lord."
Inspired by: Genesis 2:17 & 3:4-5; I Samuel 4:21; Matthew 12:43-45; and Mark 5:1-13
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