Cud-In-a-What?

To starve is no fun
to diet is unnatural
to gorge is a pain
then there's

Same ol'

Eyes at a certain point
desire to shop for fresh nourishment
the need to feel the pastiche
of colors that blend
a feast of texture
fragrance
ripeness
readiness
qualities that forever prevail
then there's

Same ol'

Eyes get tired alas
not from remaining aware
or from life's Unfamiliar rendered dry
but from Love's crop gone Factory
packaged
promoted
sold
with shelf-life guaranteed
by merely a new wrap
an extended expiration

Works with a knife
in a needle
even a drill bit
rub-a-dub-dub
finger-walking-miracle goo
by the tub
you know

Same ol'

Rushed to the nearest
mode of delivery
markets galore
candy to see
maybe to touch
always to lure
but

Our eyes at a certain point
can't digest so much Familiar
no-taste bland
and especially such processed...

What do they call that?
something that's been chewed
for so long
flavor gone
juices dry
only fibrous waste left

Cud

Offerings worthy of cud
yeah
cud in a skirt
pants
gender ignorant
cud is cud
metaphorically sealed
whether
BP
Wall Street
filibustering whatever
Senate floor
marble floor
flowered weddings
any-way-beddings

So

Maybe time for genetic splicing
balancing brawn
with untainted brains
roots with sunshine
Stop & Shop with a facelift

Organic
was
is
always will be
the muse of sustenance

Skirt
pants
makes no difference
preference anyone?

There's enough out there
demand some nourishment
mother always said
it's what's inside that counts

Shuck the packaging

Time to test
enhanced
chemically
politically
emotionally
intellectually

Or

Naturally grown
motivated
saturated
cultivated
in truth

But beware

Could be just another
Same ol'

Cud-in-a-What?