I don’t like them

“They’re good for you”

Well surely there are others that are good for me too.

“Yeh but I’ve made these so you have to eat

In fact, you better stay right there in your dining seat”

But come on please, I really don’t like these

When I do become an adult I will never eat peas

I’m sure the nutritional value is great

But get these little green terrorists off my plate

They roll away that’s why we call them escapees

I force them to leave my land like they’re refugees.

I can’t stand the taste, the texture or the look

I’d rather eat the p section from a recipe book

I’d rather eat all the Peas in the dictionary

I’ll even eat your drawing from a game of pictionary

No one really likes peas, they’re part of conditioning

Sociatal expectations, conforming to positioning.

Little green things to remind us of our place

No one actually enjoys but we shove them in our face

They’re a metaphor for work and for putting up with shit

You’re just a cog in a machine so you’d better learn to fit.

And it all starts with staring at those little round clones

Forced to consume life’s mundanity, as we reflect upon our own

If we eat peas then we accept the unremarkable

Rather than acknowledging that we are waves and particles.

Our potential is infinite and our minds are all unique

How can we accept a silence when we’re the only ones that speak

All these little things that we don’t notice take away our spirit

Till we’re buried in the ground and then there’s no one there to hear it

So don’t conform to these ideas of what they tell you to do.

Don’t wear, eat, say, go, drink, show what isn’t you.

And I cannot emphasise this enough please.

Ask plenty of questions and do not eat peas.

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