High fructose corn syrup is really bad

Powder-blue shirt hovers midscreen
white dove wings poking into frame
bright letters: peace to universe

He stabbed a pastor twenty years ago.

His white-tipped goatee
Makes him look wiser now
Than when his black skin
Earned him the death penalty

He didn't just violate his parole
He obliterated it
With drugs until the first man
To do him a favor
Showed him how insufficient
His life was

And the tip of his knife
Slipped from silver to red
Nothing against the man who stained it
Self confidence spewed
But drained faster than the blood
Pumped limply from many holes

Poem:
We watched a movie in my class today about a woman meeting with murderers in prison, and I thought it amusing that the man she talked to was wearing a shirt that proclaimed peace to the universe from it's powdery blue fabric. So I used the story he told for a poem. A bit depressing, but the movie was rather interesting, so I thought I'd write a bit about it before I forgot.

Observation:
If you've been around me as I've consumed food recently, you probably know I have recently adopted a vendetta against high fructose corn syrup. Basically, I was feeling fat one day and looking for something to blame it on, and I decided to buy into the whole "processed foods are bad for you" mindset. I told my parents, and was asked if I had any real evidence. I realized Boston Legal probably wasn't an accredited source, so I said not really and forgot about it for a while. Then I saw a commercial of a woman saying that high fructose corn syrup was fine because the sugar in it is processed the same as any other sugar. That by itself is obvious. Sugar is sugar. But that made me wonder why they needed a commercial. So I morphed into super-sleuth mode. Which actually means I turned on my computer. And I did a ton of research. Which actually means I googled high fructose corn syrup, scrolled down about five results, and clicked on a site. It had taken me about fifteen seconds of effort to completely debunk the commercial. If I had any faith that other people had also done this, I could just let the matter rest, but since it had (sadly) taken me quite a while to do it, I have no such belief. So here's the article: http://www.princeton.edu/main/news/archive/S26/91/22K07/
And because I'm sure some people are still too lazy to click that link and wade through the preamble, it basically says that when rats were given water with high fructose corn syrup at half the concentration than soda they gained way more weight than rats given the full concentration of normal sugar water. Furthermore, this weight was gained mainly in the midsection, and the type of fat was specifically linked to the type associated with artery trouble.
But the whole reason I even wanted to bring this up is because, in my effort to avoid this death syrup, I have been reading ingredients labels. While frequently depressing, yesterday this resulted in utter bafflement. I enjoy bread and butter flavored pickles. I have no idea why they are called that, but they are delicious despite their complete lack of resemblance to anything having to do with bread or butter. Anyway, I was rather excited to see they came in a larger size than just the normal "chip" cut style. Basically, they were cut lengthwise instead of in cross sections. Out of habit I checked the ingredients. You guessed it: high fructose corn syrup. But only in the lengthwise-sections! So I muttered some profanities in Vlasic's general direction and bought the other ones. Jerks.

Exercise:
The aim of this exercise is to play with rhyme. Feel free to make use of www.rhymer.com, or a rhyming dictionary if you happen to have access to one. If you feel too silly to do this exercise, then make one of your fictional characters be an avid writer of doggerel. What little rhyming poem can you come up with in five minutes?

The little ones have gone to bed
And "head" rhymes with bed and has to do with dreams
So that's the word I should have said
But rather than that it seems
I have little regard for the cordiality
Of monosyllabic, cliche rhymes
That make song lyrics a predictable reality
And less respect for rhythm and time
Which, once welcome constraints
Adding structure and form
Now steal color from the paints
Of the pictures I try to bring to life.

Me:
(I know the last line doesn't rhyme.)
Anyway, things are going pretty well. You know, other than the pickle incident. This is due largely in part to the fact that the rest of the shopping resulted in the acquisition of delectable foods which I have been partaking in consistently. And perhaps unhealthily. Peach mango salsa in particular brings a smile to my face. And sweet Bavarian mustard. Delicious.
Unfortunately while procuring said mustard, the box I was using to carry it gave way and in broke two containers. And the eggs. And then, since this happened in the store, an old guy walked over a few minutes after it happened and I was involved in cleaning it up to say "now look what you've done." I was sorely tempted to inquire whether in his many years, he had also made a mistake, but wound up holding my tongue. This might have been due to the fact that an incredibly nice store clerk had helped out with the mess saying it was no trouble, happened all the time, and not to worry about the cost. Granted, his tune might have been different had I broken something worth more than five dollars, but I was touched nonetheless. So in that good spirit, I refrained from sarcasm.
This will be formatted better when I get back to a computer, so if you're reading it before then, sucks for you, I guess.