This poem came from the December 6, 2011 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a comment from aldersprig -- actually part of a discussion on the challenges of finding food that is genuinely edible, a complaint voiced by several audience members. It has been sponsored by Anthony Barrette. By the way, if you're really having this problem and want this solution, winter is a great time to search for a Community Supported Agriculture project near you; this is their signup season.
I go to the grocery and sigh;
this problem gets worse every week.
The products are piled up high
but still I can't find what I seek.
Upon every carton and can
in labels and garbles galore
are substances not known to man --
and they've taken over the store.
I want foods that I recognize,
ingredients I can pronounce,
not gunk that will water my eyes
and chemicals canned by the ounce.
I need things that once were alive,
that I could find growing outside;
I'm sure that I couldn't survive
on frankenfoods dished up with pride.
I hardly know what I could eat
or what's sure to do me some harm --
so screw it! I'll vote with my feet
and shop for my food at a farm.