Tomato

This tomato sits in-front of me,
Large red and unrhymable.

It's green green leafs,
They taunt taunt taunt me.

The spot reflecting the light,
Reminds me of my wife and of the fight.

She thought I'd cheated and she had slapped me,
And I was drunk so I did out cold her.
And in a box she'd went with supplies,
All the way to India with air holes and pies.
And oh how I made sure she had tomatoes,
as they were her favourite food.

But my plan was ill-thought out,
And she died over the Atlantic.

I attended the funeral of course,
On course for abuse from her family.
They threw tomatoes at me.
5 long years did pass and I was assigned a new job,
As a photographer I did what they pleased,
And what pleased them this month was tomatoes,
And a catalog of them.
I committed suicide.

Or at least I tried.
But in fact the land lady died,
And fell through the ceiling,
My noose became loose as she lay on my torso.

The police they blamed me,
And the judge did agree,
And the guards didn't hear my story,
but the prisoners did seem so sorry.

But as months passed,
I got pains in my ass.

5 long years did pass,
And the land lord admitted,
For shooting the land lady,
So I was acquited.

It was difficult on the outside,
But I made it big,
As a Hollywood producer,
Working with big wigs.

Soon my name was on billboards,
And everywhere you could go,
But then I had to work,
With a new type of role.

The film was Tomatoes,
And epic about Greece,
Loosely copying Troy,
And bits of old Grease.

Though it seemed stellar and sure to go big,
I was plagued with tomato and had too much fright.

I fled back to Ireland where I had come from,

Laid a tomato on the tables and asked,

Asked my Mother and Father if I was their son.
They told me alas I was a hermaphrodite.