Best Mucus Poems
Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.
You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.
You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said,
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!
Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.
Author Note: This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983. I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children,
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters")
I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not
MY Son!" Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school. And I'm still writing my poems today.
I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless.
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger.
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death!
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive.
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”
It was not that she was the only woman in the group, when mingling precariously beneath the bronze figure of William Booth, or her classic stance, when placing saintly, the newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly breached, but her opulent style, her contrast of attire, and as yet her hair unruffled. Although sparse of jewelry a gold ring dangles on a chain, catching the light as it shines in the noon day sun, a tinge of blood trickles down her neck. Her recently pierce ear lobe, bearing signs of some street wise ritual? Evidence of suave sophistication, exists with movements of grace and elegance, fingers more use to the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of a bottle of brown ale.
a fork in the lane
no signpost to guide one home
a need or a deed
Her head begins to lift higher and higher with every mouthful of distinct courage, every courteous act. Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle is released from her reluctant deep red lips, a senseless shake only proved her greatest fear. Suddenly to her aid came a wayward chap, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge. He commences to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit, with a mucus soiled cuffless sleeve, before passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly awaiting its return.
a lane to despair
not alone but in the palm
existence or life
After the corrosive day is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley park bench will be her abode with printed tabloids to cover her chilled exterior, her metabolism accelerating, to become one of so many, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will options for her begin to diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction rapid along the highway of completion!
first rays of sunshine
a trial or tribulation
the signpost renewed.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
You see I've been misunderstood majority of my life
Its as though if living were war
then im the knife
Its not my fault society embraces suicide
Label me an aspiring mathematician
Cuz I have nothing to hide
but a simple substance I provide
for an affordable price
my life is nicked and dimed into a dynasty of ghetto capital
my product derived of natural organic matter
strategically cut and cooked for a simple way to provide
that get away you're after boo
Damage is collateral
See while you chase starts
I chase the dollars that make them
See I defy God and for a few
I can make you invincible
destroying your principles
Cuz ile have you feining for that next high
that next mucus mixture
with the snort of that booger sugar
Excess caked up til inhaled to the brain
that mental bugaloo
Cut into rocks of instacourage
for you weak pawns on a chessboard
checkmated before you had the chance
to advance to enemy territory
You've destroyed yourself
As I enjoy my wealth
Now whos the loser
When you look yourself in the mirror
and realized you've ascertained a habit you cant break
developed a hunger for a superficial utopia you cant make
You are
So as a businessman my product and I are one
but never mingle
So while you dibble and dabble with the snow
I create blizzards
Are you prepared for the cold cold life ahead of you
If im caught is federal
But you're worth the effort
Im just simply the man that makes the offer
And its crazy cuz when the streets were hot
and my product was mixed with soda pop
it was a shoulder shrug
Now I gotta hide my product
discreet with my customers
or metal bracelets will give my wrist
a colder hug
Load the slug
and aim it at your cranium
this is a ride youll die for
Literally speaking
No pun intended
It was more of a visual sentence
Close up you can see the colossal amounts of energy
it took to grow this plant from a seed
An even closer look through the microscope,
inside lies the complete genetic information
Images of texture I can almost feel
Spikes that pop up prickly come alive
I have no limits to magnification
I can see vibrant stars dead center
Elements of sunshine tan and green
Sediments of gill filaments in V-shapes
Arrows in grooves with silver linings
Natures details to resemble filigree
Mucus glowing its sickle-shaped petal lobes
Milky sap growing within, aligning
milk vines and perfect pinwheels
Nature’s own flower arrangements
Under a microscope
Not in tea leaves, in shoelaces tie existence--their harsh and meshing material
bound, tethered, undone with a gentle pull.
The bunny ears
and clumsy fingers bouncing along the faux-marble
hallways: the future politicians and CEO's and poets
wiping caked mucus on the white-washed brick foundations--
babbling babbling babbling babbling.
A blood-stone bed surge of tidal maturation,
soon to be lost in the variant eddies of life;
the finger-painted puzzle-box open and unsolvable.
Their parents, for they are honorable, as
picket-fences are honorable, as
tracksuits are honorable, as
Zoloft is honorable, sit ajar
on school streets of vibrant myriad cars quietly dilapidating
behind Armor-All dashes. Old ladies waving dutifully
at lifeless lawn ornaments like lifeless lawn ornaments soon themselves in front of homes because
the youth only want something old when it's time to marry,
Googling what the heart feels for the occasion.
Smokestack color windows of depreciating souls searching drunken
down the glossy oak
bar through bent light of whiskey glasses and broken values
they blame on Nietzsche and the price of condoms,
finding a sad reflection seated at this world's dampened end to spread
like ashen snow
again and again and again on sweat-stained futons,
after the lurch toward the water, sloppy with kisses
and lace.
Church bells sound off one and two
O! clock tower
marching Heaven to Hell but got lost in Devil's Lake. They do not hear
the beaten shopping cart radio wobbling like a tripodal Dog,
telling us Jesus stayed inside because White is translucent in the rain.
But,
the wander-footed waywards, leaden eyed, tranced in droning hums of small town streetlights--
or red red copper hangers
or lucid jaundice confessions
or gangrenous light-slivered closets--
break half-empty
beer bottles on familial-faced slogans plastered to an under-bellied bridge and sway
like ebbing wind on the unsure-step shore banks, drooping wasp legs
over the ever-rising precipice
to vein-rush Hellgrammite powder
with their one remaining shoelace
and leave their shoes behind.
are we crazy or just contrived
lazy or simply self-involved?
are we insignificant, significant
or just like everyone else
deranged on the outside
swimming through dead oceans in our heads
am i death or am i over-simplified
is my breath as thick as the painted eye lashes
that stick to your eyes?
are you in love with your anemia
or anemic to love
breathing came so easy
now you're lucky to get one
mouthful
forever in ruins or ruined to become
pinned to pages or pinned under thumb
like the bleeding nape of a baby
thorough true to yourself
under circumstance we are death-like
only because we know we can
the heart
like a thick abscess of black mucus
pumping sweet death to all who may ask
now clogged with regret
regret for the living
regret for the loving
love of anemia
anemia of love
A stuffy nose leads to runny nose, frozen toes and thick as jelly mucus
sitting in your chest not allowing you to rest, mucus really sucks because there is nothing you can do but suck on lozenges and say aw nuts -
sitting on the couch all afternoon
watching cartoons run across your living room
listening to geese fly by
thinking is it time to lie down and rest
just take a breath and maybe two.
My lungs feel like they have ingested glue
they huff and puff to no avail
so off to the kitchen I go to warm a big huge heaping bowl of...
touch of magic, toad tongues stew, a pinch of nutmeg, thyme for two - what are some homemade remedies that work for you?
"Pearl Diving" (Part 1)
He had wondered where to put his Quill
the ink pots were all dry
he lived in his little world
in the mountains somewhere up near the sky;
he was seeking a new story in the Winter of his life
he was done with making any woman
ever again his wife.
He was adamant now, that all must be “unconditional”,
he was weary,”I’m over it”, he thought with sleep,
“Why must Love always comes with a price?”.
So, he took to taking Chocolat and a book to bed, this was now his keep.
“Better this habit than be dead”, he mused,
underneath his burning sheets.
When a man whispers, “Diamonds”
all the honeybees draw near
but there are jewels far more precious
than what’s shipped in little sharp boxes clear;
he needs to go mining with his Deep Sea Diving gear
and dive into an ocean fathomless
dive deeper, drown all his Winter fears.
The Ocean was his first big love
and it was calling clear.
At the bottom of that ocean
under dark and heavy brine
there lies underneath all the sand somewhere
a clamshell lying tight, sublime;
It’s captured treasure lies in sleep
dreaming in her salty milky mucus purse
she wriggles around occasionally
when she is seeking dirt.
The clamshell spits dirt out when found
and lets the fishes flirt,
but it keeps it’s treasure tight within
safe from all that dirt.
This jewel it keeps, is shiny, luminescent still, is hard, no diamond crystal clear
she’s aging beautifully and keeping herself sub-octave in the blue
for a shark with virtue true.
This is what she misses when she dreams alone so pert -
Sharks if never, are mostly seldom, ever true
and what would they do with a Pearl?
They most probably, wouldn’t have a clue?
(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)
"Au Dela", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/Uw9sduiOn5I
LYRICS. Translation
https://lyricstranslate.com/en/au-del%C3%A0-beyond.html-0
Spittle of diddle are many tongues forming spittle
two ends against the middle they diddle spittle
spittle, they diddle, as mucus forms of diddle, spittle
still` Breath of Spirit speaks to even the coldest souls
current of life excels the void womb thus swells
dilly, they dally, in death‘s valley, folly squirms the worms
Be it winter or summer more likely than not
my big nose can produce giant globs of green snot.
I use up the tissues a box at a time,
picking and blowing and wiping the slime
that dries in my nostrils like small crusty scabs
and I pull thwem out furry from the hairs that they grab.
But some are still gooey that Ill roll in a ball
and I flick'em real quick so they stick to the wall,
then I wonder how long beforer anyone sees
all the boogers I flicked on their wallpapred trees.
It may be disgusting but then that's what I do
I blow out big boogers and I flick one or two
where they stick on the windows or maybe the door,
while the nastiest ones I just blow on the floor.
And some of you know about this, yes you do,
because some of you have flicked a booger or two.
I'll never point fingers at any of those
who've had their own fingers way up in their nose.
Now I've told a story and some of its true
I've talked about mucus and boogers and you,
and stretching and rolling these green little balls
and picking and flicking and sticking to walls,
and I guess that I'll stop there, so I'll take a pass,
I won't talk about boogers, but let's talk about gas!
A tsunami of black ash blankets half a world
Trash toadstool hoodoos, wastelandic pillage
and pollutant mucus ravishes lava villages
Draining is the amalgam mass at the end of the spectrum
Stone environs shock, unnatural landscapes
Polyethylene islands flushing the canvas
Carbon contaminant fumes flair in mid drift air
Virtually no place on Earth is free of the polymer fog
Foaming magma cascades over metallic mushroom roots
Spiny shoots sprout tentacles from rubber trees
Mercury and cadmium toxin leeches' groundwater
Above the quicksand are flying objects that pass as vultures
For a million magarican dollars I was greeted by a masked spacebot
Left on moonlit Luna's Lot are my collection of yin-yang art articles
Fear is my unspoken words
Emotions linger in my mind
like free flying birds
but still my life is sad!
Unspoken words remain Undefeated
Just as the sky remains seated
As my heart beats
Tears and Fear pour heavily
The only taste i have is that of mucus
Running from my nose
Why My people are more concerned with frequent blackouts!
A question to be ,does our lives matter?
Evil people have put a price on my body
Making me the most haunted persons of my era
A few people are there to fight with me
A question to be,
Are they rangers trying to control pouching?
But still my life is sad!
A question to be does our lives matter?
Nalakwanji Malawi?
Tell them!
Look on to my face
And let fall the secret
We hided in the invisible bier
Of eternity
When all eyes and ears
were blinded and deafened
By sleep
Let the vultures
Of the evil forest
Spice my body
For a glamorous banquet!
Say it!
I have heard already
The gossip from the women
On the way to the stream
At dawn
From the Nayiri's gong beater
I have heard the fearful decree
And equally,
I have seen
the spears of monstrous laughter
Burst the cheeks of our foes
Sister,tell mama,
To weep no more
For when the stubborn fowl
Digs deep the ground
It exposes the bones
Of its ancestors
The mouse madly
Went to the cattery
To buy itself the meat
Of a kitten
Love,love,love!
like a cunning fox
Baited the hungry fowl
With the meat of a cockroach
And not could it have resisted
I knew forbidden
was the eaten fruit
But what cause or reason
Could have the dog
unleash the juicy bone
The broadened hips of Nasara
Made visible by her
Tight-shortened kente skirt
Could have made me
Grill my fingers
In a wild inferno unawarely
The sight of her
ladybird-like skinned beads
Lustfully stimulated me
And i would have mounted
A bull forgetfully
What of the well-filled erected
balls on her chest
That itched my palms always
For her round botty,
That swayed like a leave
Quaked by a violent tempest
Did nearly broke my neck
For vying with it always
In each direction it went
The fearful taboo of chastity
We have smitten
The womb of Nasara
Shelters the flesh of my blood
And there awaits no option
Other than a bloody execution
If tumorrow meet us not,
Remember the aged love song
We sang togather
When the full white moon
Came passing
Remember the soft chorus
I Joined in with
That silenced the envious song birds
The mucus may do it worse
But never does it go off
With the nose
I still remain your only cow boy
That robbed you milk and cheese
And paid the penalty
With my bare back
That suffered the pains
Of papa's whip…
We cannot do without water,
But it could do without us
If we choose!
Bodies of living things are made up
of mostly water, squashy plants,
Blood and Lymph included too.
Without Hydration, the skin as well as
Internal organs would become very dry.
Dry organs cannot function and
Would definitely malfunction!
Even tears and saliva would be
diminished,
Forming crusts instead of lubricating!
Drink lots of fluids, for fluid loss
is a continuous thing-
As we breathe, sweat, in kidney-
filtering,
Water is indeed a Requisite for life
and living;
Mucus dilution during the Common
Cold.
Normal electrolytes depend upon it.
Potassium, Sodium, Magnesium
when dry, crystalizes and heart and
Brain problems we do get.
Water is also seen in Crystallization,
In the form of ice, snow,or on cold
surfaces.
It crystalizes on those unfortunately
frost-bitten ones,
In the frozen, hard unrelenting cold
caregivers take care of!
It Precipitates in Seas, Oceans, Rivers,
Lakes and Streams;
Where "hot air rises" as a mist to the
clouds,
Making them heavy to "fall" as rain.
Animals, Humans and Vegetation welcome it.
Water is a great "body-guard" for being
Impermeable,
Oil and water never mix and fat is separated too.
Water helps form blood and lymph after we eat,
Flowing to flush out our accumulated mess.
We are Invigorated with life, as cells hydrate
Durig a long trek on a path at camp.
Water invigorates the life-source due to
exhaustion,
Even the Lord cried out "I thrist."
Water "minds its own business:
Quenching the thirst of animals,
Irrigating lands as it passes by,
Filling reservoirs for domestic use.
Choose to make use of it daily!
Poetry Contest:
Poetry Title: Elements Part 3: WATER
Instructions:
YOUR POEM TO BE SUBMITTED WITH ALL 6 OF THESE WORDS:
1) HYDRATION (2) REQUISITE (3) PRECIPITATION (4) IMPERMEABLE (5) INVIGORATE (6) CRYSTALLIZATION.
Poetry Contest Deadline: Friday, April 29, 2016
Sponsored by: Brian Davey