April 5, 2011

Poetry: "Ramen"

boil two cups of water in a sauce pan
add the noodles and cook three minutes
stir occasionally
turn off heat, drain excess water
add content of seasoning packet
serve immediately for best results
and that’s how you make
Top Raman
Chop up some hot dogs and throw it in the pot
Cause that’s my shit
Fuck using the stove when you can microwave it in a bowl
Cause that’s my shit
Find the bottle of hot sauce to spice it up a bit
Cause that’s my shit
No need to wash dishes either cause you can crush it up in the bag
Shit, now that’s the mo’ fucking shit
Eating Top Ramen three times a day, every day, seven days a week
Cause mom has no money and that’s all we can afford to eat
Ain’t that some shit
In our house top ramen was the only father figure
The only person putting food on our table
While mom’s just working to keep the lights on
Sense the money was as absent as dad was
There was no hope left
The last ounce of essence she had left ,was crushed into a powder
and sealed in a tin foil package
so when you pour it in the mix
it shows the true meaning of soul food
injured by budget cuts so deep
that mom would stock our cabinets with 24 packs of orange and red
first aid survival kits
she was strong like ramen strait out the package
but every time she’d reach her boiling point
she would go into her room and release her tears into her pot of insecurities
so we never see her soft side
knowing that the tears she shed make the green in you pockets
go a little bit faster…
if you just add water
and the noodles would swell up like your face after you get done crying
strain all the water out, and your left with something so beautiful
how can a man leave someone so beautiful
but the tears keep coming back
how can something so beautiful come from the worst thing that can happen to you
and our mailbox gets filled with
numerous monthly statements instead of child support checks
I know it’s hard
To always feed us top ramen
Feeding us the chicken noodle soup of your soul
Even if you where sick or tired
We are sick and tired
Of your watered down stories telling us everything is going to be all right
But its all gunna be all right mama
Cause I know all about your beef with the bill collectors
And I know that I’m but a shrimp compared to your problems
But you would never be contingent to tell us what’s going on
Cause you knew that your shit can only make my noodles taste nasty
Mom raised us with the intention of us being raw men
So every night she would pray with a face full of tears
And prey to god that we can be men
And that our stomachs are never empty
She would slave through her graveyard shifts every night so she can make her zeros
Staring into the night sky singing of her super hero
Except I never had a super hero
We never had a super hero
Going through childhood in a broken home, this soup is our hero
It’s name is top ramen
Full of the power packed msg
Which never stood for
Mono sodium glutamate
But stood for
Mom stayed grinding
And also when it comes down to us
it stands for
She made us something great
And finally it stood for
My souls gratification
So this is an ode to you
Presented in a bowl like needles in a compass
Which was seasoned with by the seasons
You spent encompassed by the struggles of us
So take this hot soup as homage
Thanks mom, my childhood was delicious


  1. Great poem, I was just curious as to what the link between this and critical theory was... mind filling me in?