Foods And Feeding Poem by shimon weinroth

there is a grumbling in my stom-ache
a rumbling in my mind,
thoughts flit and fly
the channels and passage ways,

over hills and dale's into the valleys
of desire
in that vassel called my head
cries out at night,

that would waken, even the dead
knows how Esau was lead,
to give away to Jacob, in his stead
for a morsel, adashim and french bread,

just a taste, just a bite just some food
to feed the blight, of gluttony and hunger