Best Fumigated Poems
Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways of smog and smut
“Live over the brush”* branded a sl*t,
silhouettes infringe the darkest night
gullible back shift broke the morning light.
Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill”
eight pints of beer the back porch thrill,
when no meant yes in rapturous skill
to fumigated music from “Nashville.”
Obnoxious libertine this bread man
bay curtain drawn delivery van,
the situation conspired indiscretion
clinical the world’s oldest profession.
Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss
caught first ball costly night on the piss,
pavilion home to moorside drover
many a chaste maiden bowled over.
Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road”
black and amber heroes round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout the room
manly skills embroider the village groom.
Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll”
sire in fear of them out of control,
a colossal wedge between cultures
in shadows of decency vile vultures.
Repetitious days of school yard might
the bullies reduced one’s life to plight,
parents queried yet misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood.
Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek”
games of “Stroke a back” every week,
by the old school grounds we all did laik**
now the street is naked for heaven sake.
Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back
this poetry constantly placing me on track,
when life was a role without fame or stars
only toil and trepidation and these scars?
© Harry J Horsman 2013
*Living in sin
** Play
Categories:
fumigated, life, nostalgia, school,
Form:
Rhyme
The bright Christmas lights on my city house are so colorful and traditional,
hopefully when I get my high utility bill I won't become too irrational,
and watching everyone open up their gifts makes me want to sigh,
also hoping that when I get the credit card bills I won't start to cry,
And the Christmas room has edible fumes of the eating variety kind,
with the holiday weight I gain ending up in my butt and thighs,
while getting a white Christmas is something I always wished for,
but not slipping on the slippery steps when walking out the front door,
A different group of Christmas carolers singing out front in my yard,
all of them sounding very off key like a cat getting strangled,
and not having money to give them gave them some pie I baked,
most of them getting sick from it Betty Crocker I aint,
Going Christmas shopping and getting stuck in the holiday traffic,
and trying to find a parking spot at the mall was really quite baffling,
having to sit there and wait till I saw a shopper getting ready to leave,
another car beat me to the spot while I sat there and sneezed,
So I decided to move far away from the hustle and the bustle,
wheres all I have to worry about is what is that woodland noisy rustle,
could be a black bear, coyote, wolf or a moose,
and when I get my mail every day have to run so they don't bite my big caboose,
But thats ok I'm starting to feel at home for the holidays in the hills,
getting used to the 8 foot snow drifts and the night time animal shrills,
while getting into my vehicle can be quite an ordeal,
running like a fugitive till I get inside of it in my camouflage gear,
But I have a plan B just in case living in the hills doesn't all work out,
I'll just move to Florida where the humidity and big bugs will bother me no doubt,
where I'll buy my own little house hopefully sinkhole free and keep it fumigated,
and pretend to have a white Christmas even though its 85 degrees out while getting chased by an alligator.
Happy Holidays Everyone!
12-24-16
Categories:
fumigated, christmas, holiday, home, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Sarah, for your birthday, I do not want to ruin the surprise,
So put on your mask, and here is a blinder to cover your eyes.
I will give you hints as we get on our private fumigated plane.
Of course your mother is waiting, and she will do the same.
We will have a menu that has Belgium chocolates I can't hide.
They will be scrumptiously delicious, and taste juicy inside.
You may order hot chocolate with a shot of caramel and Nutella.
There will be some pretty hot guys, and maybe a particular fella.
Please do not guess yet, watch your feet as I guide you up the steps.
There are protein shakes, brownies, flavored lattes, sprinkled flecks.
An extra shot of expresso? I do not see why not, Sarah Dear.
Yes the destination café might be coming abundantly clear.
Sit beside your mother and do not guess out loud.
She has told me all about you; she is insanely proud.
No doubt there will be scones, muffins, and a sandwich of the day.
Come on pilot, get the engine started. We are ready to play!
Categories:
fumigated, birthday, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
I thee take thy smoke in hand...
Taste buds blossom blumes fumigated by blandness for all this madness.
Hence forth with my aching pains...
Gives me none no new world gains.
Happenchance gasp's that choke my pipe's airid winds...
Again'st Gods laws of healthy body's house that goes on to detour all us
mouse's law breaking sins.
Categories:
fumigated, death, health,
Form:
Remember the days of
yesteryear
when family ties were
held most dear,
and gas lamps flickered in
the back street
while most of us danced a
different beat!
Tragic alleyways of
smog and smut
“Live over the brush”
Branded a sl*t,
silhouettes infringe the
darkest night
gullible back shift broke the
morning light!
Adventurous nights at
“Townhead mill”
A pint of beer the
back porch thrill,
when no! Meant yes in
rapturous skill
to fumigated music from
“Nashville”
Obnoxious libertine this!
Bread man
bay curtain drawn
delivery van,
the structure conspired
indiscretion
clinical the world’s
oldest profession!
Sporting gentlemen in
summer bliss
caught first ball! Costly night
on the piss!
Pavilion home to
moorside drover
many a chaste maiden
bowled over!
Partial pilgrimage down
“Bolton Road”
Black and amber heroes
round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout
the room
manly skills embroider the
village groom!
Cardinal days steeped in
“Rock’n’Roll”
Sire in fear of them out
of control,
a colossal wedge
between culture
in shadows of decency
vile vulture!
Repetitious days of
school yard might
“Alfie” Reduced to a life
of plight!
Parent queried! Yet
misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the
neighbourhood!
Lads and lasses lost in
“Hide and Seek”
Games of “stroke-a-Back”
every week,
by the old school yard we
all did laik*
Now the street is naked, for
“Heaven sake!”
© Harry J Horsman 2020
*laik Yorkshire for play, as in 'play out'
Categories:
fumigated, life,
Form:
Free verse
A curled-up bundle of skin and hair
Adorns the window-seat
The sorry remains of Kitty
The old lady down the street
To those who saw her struggle daily
With her heavy shopping trolley
All of her ignorant neighbours
And her estranged sister Polly
To all of the people
Who used to stand and laugh
Here lies Kitty, loner Kitty
Written on her epitaph
Kitty was a lonely soul
No family or friends had she
Only the teenagers two doors down
Tony, Beth and Marie
They'd pop in on pension day
And ask her for a loan
With no intention of paying her back
Got money for drugs then left her alone
Just the other day
She'd decided to have a look
In the sideboard drawer
For her pension book
The book wasn't where she'd put it
In the right-hand drawer
Maybe she'd done like two weeks ago
Dropped it on the post-office floor
Mrs Kemp had brought it round
Said she'd noticed it after she'd left
She stressed she was lucky that it had been found
Nearly a victim of I.D theft
Her state benefit had been cut
Though not told the reason why
Thinking about rent and energy bills
She'd often sit and cry
Tony, Beth and Marie are banging on the door
What do they want from Kitty?
They've had it all and they want more
Kitty is now at peace
Her maker she has met
She died alone in squalor
Her heart filled with regret
The council fumigated the house
Used disinfectant till it was replete
The only evidence of Kitty
A large stain on the window seat
There are so many like Kitty
But no-one cares ask why
Abandoned by society
And left alone to die
All that remained of Kitty
Was curled up on the window-seat
The quiet soul with no-one
The old lady down the street
Categories:
fumigated, age, family, sad, society,
Form:
Rhyme
Touch has been circulated in these times of touch me not and news only travelling for the battle of
breathing.
Our love could never be expressed in hugs or kissing but a wave with restrictions and levels.
Human communication vanished with the harsh passing of gentleness, emotion, love and
understanding.
Our experience brought the regular hand washing and sanitation of our hands with the right amount
of measured alcohol.
Along with the restrictions and change of levels, alternating like a movie played with the pause and
play buttons.
The covering of our faces with masks and keeping a safe distance came to play.
These was a wave promised to only last for days, but months passed, and the hard reality faced us
that we lose our loved ones quicker than we would lose pests to a fumigated place.
This wave brought along the reality of six feet social distance and a time for hope that the end will
soon come.
We hoped for survival as the restrictions eased.
But to our reality, the truth to the announcement was never an introduction of the other wave while
the touch me not movement continued.
“We lost too much already”.
Something was missing, the streets were empty and our hospitals full of patience only visible to
those who attend to them.
Are they fed? Are they well taken care of? Will they survive?
The soul longed to see those who were lying on hospital beds with phone calls to their memory as
they served their last days on earth.
Poet
Masego Nkuna
Categories:
fumigated, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
A Cook’s Battle
The ship -cook was tired it had been a long day, the ship was old
full of cockroaches, one had found its way in his bread dough and
when the captain cut a slice of bread it was there, a brown raisin;
the old man had been very angry. The cook’s trouble was roaches
they were everywhere. He had asked to have the galley fumigated
when the ship was in dry dock, but no it was far too expensive.
Every week he boiled a big pan of water and squirted into corners,
it helped a bit and he had buckets full, but soon they were back
encroaching his galley. Then there were mites in the flour which
he had to sift before baking bread, not his fault yet he had to take
the flack. He often worked till late evening to keep the galley clean
he had even painted it so on the surface it looked bright and nice.
He was losing the battle against insects he often felt he was losing
his mind as well, they appeared in his dreams strangulating him.
Time was hard not easy to get a job, still when his ship docked in
Bombay he was off and the crew could get someone else to insult.
Categories:
fumigated, funny, old, old,
Form:
Blank verse
They say the virus does not exist. Why?
our leaders politicize its mortality
profiteers make it a minted and crispy business
rumour mongers carry myths of it across the Nile
and the poor are to isolate at home in the safety of hunger and taste!
Too many years of a distrustful polity from our cradle
as always, we heard of billions of a ransom given to the political virus
‘who’ kidnap our collective survival.
We heard from Mrs. Disaster of how billions were expended
on the vulnerable somewhere uncharted.
We heard the golly-governor said he spent billions when he shared
packs of noodles to the hungry as palliatives to survive on five months ago now.
We heard the markets jammed and streaming with viral sweats
of frantic buyers were once fumigated with millions of liquid cash.
We heard the spike in infection cases and deaths suddenly flattened out
after huge private and federal allocations in aids
We heard the country and people are broke and more billions of dollars
are borrowed. But where does the money go to?
We heard the rumours, theories, mythos…!
Majority of the poor and needy only hear but did not see;
for those who have more, more are given and stolen.
Those who have none, even the little they need are denied!
They mutate dead cells of social conscience patting the pauper
to go home and stay safe without a crumb of comfort, hope or bread.
We are tired of this sham of leadership and shame of distrust!
we saw food baskets kept on the threshold of the poor
we saw hungry people lined up for the goodies of charity and state kitchens
we saw the unemployed get insurance and compensation
we saw the government expend social funds and give subventions
we saw the leaders and businesses arouse social trust and hope
not taxes and profits when the people are already famished
we saw the hive of humanity, not the survival of the fittest
we saw a build up of philanthropy
not the building up of many pyramids…during a pandemic.
Nevertheless, these are realities in some other climes
which we are here still dreaming on!
Categories:
fumigated, africa, corruption, depression, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
I close my eyes and recall yesterdays beautiful summers
barbecues from charcoal bricks and slow basted meats
aromas that lingered long after the first sizzle of rare
Mother arriving with a platter of raw hotdogs and steaks
dad fanning the fire with an old tin top. Fumigated waves
of thick gray smoke filling the air, we waited hungerly .
Later stuffed as little piglets we would gather round
the wooden picnic table, and tell stories and jokes.
The sun would slowly begin to descend and the air
would gently cool. We'd all go inside for hot tea
and a little T.V. sitcom.
How I miss the old days, wish I could bring them back
even for just one day,. so I could smell the barbecue
and drink mother's sugary strawberry Kool aid,
one more time.
Categories:
fumigated, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
Every jump, hop, or twirl led her forward
into the world of her grown up self
She caught glimpses of the woman she wanted to be
As she played her heart out with her friends.
But when she was alone,
this is when validation and verification began.
In the distant future a vision of her future womanhood appeared
sometimes in the forms of stars, flowers, or butterflies.
Other times she saw herself in stark ugly gray concrete
or a dumpster that needed to be fumigated.
She had no idea why these visions appeared
But she saw her star path, and stayed true to the course.
Being the happiest, most enthusiastic, upbeat positive creature she could be.
Unless her body was tired, or hungry, then she became
hard, gray, flat ugly concrete,
a flat tire, an empty water bottle.
She never knew what was going to happen,
however she did know herself, and this was a great start
toward adjusting and fixing her future self.
Categories:
fumigated, emotions, feelings, girl,
Form:
Free verse
fumigated like stockade lice
you Wall St. cologne jockeys
would be 3rd World land fill
recall that consciousness is tunable
adjust your volume to a comfortable level
because Turette's plus Alzheimer's
is a nation destroying combo
I forgot what I was going to scream
wait oh yeah modernity is inherently outlaw
the chorus began to howl like cats in a shoe box
impressions create personality
there was barking and pulling of hair
their eyeballs spun like casino cameras
I am in your head forever he screamed
and collapsed like a cheeseburger chef
after football day at the griddle
well that was deep as an open manhole
but it hit me like a brakeless gravel truck
that once you admit the voices are yours
you are ripe for mascara tramp extortion
she'll kidnap your mind
and then bitmap your mind
for a little esoteric agenda indoctrination
into the holy tabloid of miracles
that radiate light all around and make
the organist pound like a jackhammer
it is our duty to create
hey categories exist before we name them
so let's try to name ones that actually exist
well how Phoenix rising can you get
how on your own can on your own really get
you gotta be educable to survive
that's Darwin plus Microsoft
or else the Army Psyops College
will unleash samurai population control
and you will die like a sex doll predicting
the end of the cro magnum world
the trick to attaining godhood
is to not try so silly hard
because adrenaline is a
reduced instruction set
with which high resolution reality
will rip your face off
worse than catching mommy
sucking off daddy
for life is short and duty long
drink its venom defiantly
drink it you are going to need it
there are a lot of good faces
to emulate out there
no need for instincts
in a world of plenty
Categories:
fumigated, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Unlike the days of old when cities were built with walls. Unlike the streets of my rearing, the place where my story began. And unlike a lone sparrow that I once rescued from a busy parking lot. When I walked alone and afraid
on a dark and dangerous street, no one came to my aid because I was
never seen, never heard. Walled cities had built-in defenses without which they were open targets with little hope of defeating their enemies. They
also had watchmen on the walls to sound alarms if they were threatened.
The locals knew better and limited their movements after dark. But I was new and failed to respond adequately to the smell of attack that fumigated
the atmosphere. I was a defenseless lamb among two wolves on the prowl.
I was the selected prey by the lurkers of the night, ever ready for the feast. They were armed and I was not. They were two and I walked home,
foreboding and alone. Unlike the Romans against the Jews at Masada,
no siege-works was required; no resistance was offered; no cry of alarm. Without a plan, I was the victim of that dark and silent night. Defenseless,
I did not run nor did I speak, and the two of them were armed, robbing me without a sound, leaving me defenseless, penniless and filled with wonder about my next move in the asphalt jungle. The innocence was gone, grave
damage had been done, and a new day had arrived. Like the good locals, I did not whine over spilled milk. Rather, I wiped up the spilled milk, built survival walls around myself and became a better watchman on the wall.
021320PoSpCtest, Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 - Tristich -, Edward Ibeh. Title picked-Defenseless
Categories:
fumigated, america, cheer up, courage,
Form:
Tristich
Every jump, hop, or twirl led her forward
into the world of her grown up self
She caught glimpses of the woman she wanted to be
As she played her heart out with her friends.
But when she was alone,
this is when validation and verification began.
In the distant future a vision of her future womanhood appeared
sometimes in the forms of stars, flowers, or butterflies.
Other times she saw herself in stark ugly gray concrete
or a dumpster that needed to be fumigated.
She had no idea why these visions appeared
But she saw her star path, and stayed true to the course.
Being the happiest, most enthusiastic, upbeat positive creature she could be.
Unless her body was tired, or hungry, then she became
hard, gray, flat ugly concrete,
a flat tire, an empty water bottle.
She never knew what was going to happen,
however she did know herself, and this was a great start
toward adjusting and fixing her future self.
Categories:
fumigated, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
We fear they may yet be alive.
All the sick-minded dead
all those prone to evil,
their essences not gone
but still in our heads.
We must take the good with the bad.
If we are all the very image of Light
then we are also that dark mirror
that will not look at itself.
In the before and after they reside yet,
all those collective, collected, uncorrected,
phantoms of ourselves.
Fear not, a house can be fumigated,
snakes defanged, swept out of sight,
out of mind.
Their energy converted.
Those poisonous inmates of ours
in time, will eat themselves.
Categories:
fumigated, poetry,
Form:
Free verse