Best Upholstered Poems
Candle lit quarters..
bearing colorful carpet...
and his wooden chair.
·
With a curved backrest,
of somber reddish-brown wood;
upholstered green straw.
·
and in his absence...
a lit candle takes his place:
...two modern novels.
·
Vincent paint’s his muse,
in consistent loneliness...
...waiting for Gauguin.
_________________________________
For Abe's Van Goh's of Van Gogh contest
the Painting is "Gauguin’s Chair"
The Bedbugs Come to Call
By Elton Camp
All my life I’ve heard of this pest
In filthy houses they come to nest
Bed bugs you will never detect
Where people have self-respect
It seems now, that’s no longer true
Several things we may come to rue
First of all, we have no way to tell
Who stayed before us in the hotel.
We must take the greatest care
Bed bugs can be most anywhere
On spreads or sheets they like to hide
On upholstered chairs they’ve been spied
Maid brings them on the housekeeping cart
Or aboard the luggage carrier they may dart
So when we leave the Marriott,
Sneaky hitchhikers we have got
In the dressing room of the clothing store,
Must never lay our garments on the floor
Use the hook on the wall
Coat, clothes, purse and all
In doctor’s waiting room never dare
Sit on cloth cushioned couch or chair
If we dare to buy from any yard sale,
We must wash the garment without fail
Be certain to use water hot as can be
To insure that you stay bedbug free
Don’t think it can’t happen to you
It really can, despite all you try to do
But even if the pests we acquire,
They cause no real illness dire.
So now try to have a restful night
Please don’t let the bedbugs bite.
The Bedbugs Come To Call
By Elton Camp
All my life I’ve heard of this pest
In filthy houses they come to nest
Bed bugs you will never detect
Where people have self-respect
But now we find that is not true
Several things we may come to rue
First of all, we never can tell
Who was before us in the hotel
We must take the greatest care
Bed bugs can be most anywhere
On spreads or sheets they like to hide
On upholstered chairs they’ve been spied
Maid brings them on the housekeeping cart
Or aboard the luggage carrier they may dart
So when we leave the Marriott
Sneaky hitchhikers we’ve got
In the dressing room of the clothing store
Must never lay our garments on the floor
Use the hook on the wall
Coat, clothes, purse and all
In doctor’s waiting room never dare
Sit on cloth cushioned couch or chair
If we buy from any yard sale
Wash the garment without fail
Use water hot as can be
To help stay bed bug free
Don’t think it can’t happen to you
It may, despite all you try to do
But even if the pests we acquire
They cause no real illness dire
So try to have a restful night
Just don’t let the bed bugs bite
Upholstered flesh is wetted with a single stroke
Thumbs clasp and rotate
Ribs click with an enhanced inhalation
Consequences of a little death
Tissues consume bloat
Drain and wither
Free radicals creep into closed eyes
Flecks are swept like stars of dust
Behind shutters wide pupils flex
A peated tongue tenses
An oesophagus glows engorged
Sweet vanilla lingers
Mingled with formaldehyde
There is no tomorrow
The LED red says twelve zero one
Bulbs have soft rainbow halos
In a blur of blue grey
Addled thoughts vacate for one voice
Plasma releases its cargo of cyanide
Knots loosen
A cranium rolls and a crow sings
Dishevelled brows descend
A skeleton is exposed
Cheeks rise
An alternate being rises
A flat metallic switch is weighted
And poisons are held inside
A marigold illumination fades
And Black edges are defined
A pulse reverberates in a temple
A decision is made
Carcinogens are pushed
A door is fired a quarter circle
And rubber echoes on glass
Time for round two
Is this the weekend, by the way?
(I always think it’s Saturday!)
Load the kids up in the car –
country club (I hit the spa:
hand the kids to gay Adolphe –
calisthenics, crazy golf).
I spoil myself – it helps the stress –
the kids are having fun (I guess).
Fox News Tom Cruise
No Jews designer shoes.
Rufe’s so square, a diplodocus:
the kids will always be my focus.
Everybody needs a break
(we’re human too, for goodness’ sake).
We just do the normal things:
cabin in Borrego Springs,
week in Vegas, see the shows,
birthday dinner (Kiriko’s):
never noodles, only sushi
(table used by John Belushi) –
private beach in old La Jolla
(Rufe knows someone, bigshot lawyer):
cocktail bar, upholstered loungers
(razor wire keeps out the scroungers).
Juan’s the poolboy. My help’s Auxi
(Juanito’s neat, and Auxi’s mousey).
Wears my cast-offs, lives on chilli –
keeps her pay from getting silly.
Neither’s legal – which is good:
they stay grateful, like they should.
Minimum wage would tie a noose to it:
anyhow, they’re plenty used to it.
She breastfeeds, Juanito hustles
(fine-boned body, high-toned muscles).
He’s moonlighting, pumping gas
in San Diego, humping ass.
Rufe’s no idea what good taste is.
Parties with them friends of his.
I can’t stand them business folks –
Steaks and beers and dirty jokes.
I won’t go to meets or meals
if I can’t wear my strapless heels
and backless dress (Yves St Lauren)
it’s not about impressing men
(who cares what they think?) – it’s the wives
it matters what a woman drives
who fixed her hair. What’s Satan’s curse?
To show up toting last month’s purse.
soon we shall all be free
of all upholstered costumes
and all manners of miners' boots
that infect us with winter edema
and puff us up like flu troubled ostrich
to become angels again
In our cute adidas spikes .
His:- "I like a little lady who
is round enough to squeeze;
who has a soft capacity,
alluringly, to please.
And coming with a lustrous smile,
a tempting cunning wheeze,
she has this hint of wickedness.
Oh what a naughty tease!"
Hers:- "I like a man upholstered well,
maturing like a wine,
who treats a lady properly,
when taken out to dine.
Who holds her hand and squeezes it,
both tender and divine.
Then, if he’s just a little rich ...
Well that, by me, is fine!"
~
SEXY! Poetry Contest by Charles Clive for nette onclaud.
There, There! Good Children!
I say to the furniture gracing my space,
semi-circling the weary gray eye
of the television, as if it were the center
of the world. It's tired, but YOU are
to rest upon. Support for the watchers
in my diminishing world: a Bentwood rocker,
(made of bent wood?) Circle upon
concentric circle positioned for prettiness
and posture. Each piece, here, are
rescues: "New to You, Purple Dove, Paws-
ability." Found treasure, saved from
destruction like the sad-eyed pups behind
cages in the animal shelter. Desperate
for someone's arms. Cushy couch,
you are the arms around us, your five
fat pillows, each one retrieved from the un-
wanted shelf to form and reform a family,
reclaiming their purpose to make a
connection. Reveling in the compassionate
company of an old piano bench, its lid
upholstered in black velvet, beneath which
sheets of music were stored, and beside
a scalloped-edge table shaped like a fragile
shell one might find on a beach. Saved
from a languish in a Paris flea market, it
lifts a lamp, its base a life-sized rabbit
like he who dined on flowers in my front-
porch garden when love was alive,
his shade a black-death mushroom, lined
inside in gold, showering sheltering light
just enough and not to much to make us
edgy, unlike the nightly less-than benign
news from the black, black box.
I like to read and think about
Tyrannosaurus rex,
and gigantic brontosaurus,
with his long and slender neck.
Pterodactyl was a reptile
that flew just like a crow.
I wouldn't want him overhead,
with me stuck down below.
Their skeletons are on display,
so everyone can see 'em.
They're in a place--I think it's called
the dinosaur museum.
I've seen these creatures on TV,
in movies, and in books,
so I guess someone must really know
exactly how they looked.
But I wish someone would tell me
how they determined whether
these critters were upholstered with
hair, or scales, or maybe--feathers.
Big red buckets and yellow elephants
Standing on mice wearing pink flared pants
Oil filled puddles of many rainbow hews
And crocodile upholstered chapel pews
Armies of platform shoe wearing dogs
Wearing wigs made from living frogs
Thick carpets made of real living fur
That when walked on emits a soft purr
Deep swimming pools of strawberry jelly
Hand painted sandals by Botticelli
Gold plated gloves and silver shoes
Invisible paper for reading the news
Custard foot spas and florescent trees
Serviced by an army of giant bees
Giant bales of pink sugar-candy hay
Drenched in a honey flavoured sun ray
Glow in the dark butlers and purple maids
Liquorice flavoured garden sun shades
World domination through sensuous massage
A herd of wild hippos kept in the garage
My day dreams contain the silly and daft
Strange thing blow through on every draft
My mind is cluttered with harebrained schemes
But every single one of them sparkles and gleams
Abstract algorithm. Brooding distraction,
cleverly cloaked in digital fleece.
Enigma encoded. Like so many fireflies,
Hastening gauntly heavenward.
Juniper immolation.
Ides jaundiced light.
Kinetic kites, luminescent in the night.
Milky Way mighty, northward pointing,
Occidental wind opens, plumes rising.
Quickened quiet shroud.
Revelation.
Reincarnate.
Souls thin the veil.
Under the upholstered vault,
xylem-charred waste,
Drawn to the yawning zodiac.
Stop
Shedding and sowing
Begin bracing for burning
In land of melting
Pots
Was
The crews parallax
Of the trees
Which conceives
The lumberjack to
Saw?
Timber!
Reviled
But adored due to bark,
Chopped down and chastised a log mark
Famine yet fervid mouth of hell,
“Rollways”, or “skidways”, dread logs dwell
Bide for a springtime
Deliver
Evil
And wicked “the drive”, a lake of fire.
Falling hopeless unfettered into the mire
Enduring faith downstream releases the flames grip to
Live
Gateman
Of Hades are knee-deep sifting
Through each frazzled log
Backside to smoldering smog
Preempting the authentic mahogany
from the stamp’s
Name-tag
Reward
Lumber baron’s yield from products in greed
Prompted woodworkers confer
Shaping strong chairs, tables and desks in idolatry
collecting death’s exchange signed by the
Drawer
Ton
In years importing,
crafting and trading,
but flies find rotting
Will it
Not?
Timber!
No
Roots to nurture from all have been chopped and ripped away from, however dark flourishing, thriving and teeming grain holds
On
Stressed,
Muddled and tempted in remaining a chair than readily leafing through
ingredients of decayed stump
Desserts
God’s
Intended is resiliently cultured.
Surviving from the rays of Anguish
Sheltering in soil of adversity
Sustaining out of the hands of affliction from marking
Dogs
Now
Upholstered chairs and varnished furniture love not only your shape and strength but the land and roots you came from only then you will be
One
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uqZhnqHMAg
The orchestra strains to be symphonic --- a bee in a tin box.
Cigar smoke thunders, molecules of sound wilt
only to be dialed up through brass lungs.
The combo is quaintly upholstered, a classic sports car
driven by Disney. Outmoded refrains gurgle.
We see the obsolete road ahead, feel the bumps,
the lack of shock absorbers.
The third piano concerto, the romance of the exile.
1940 is pulled from under its Perspex lid, served up
as fresh Prosciutto di Parma consumed in a diner
long derailed.
The mind warps eras, Michelangelo has gone Hollywood,
the 'Creation' sketched on a paper napkin.
Last notes.
Hands too large for tuxedoed minds, stamp
like rhapsodic elephants.
Percussive fingers slam-dunk ivory tusked themes,
Russian bells quake California.
Rolling vespers outgrowing each decade,
times now locked in a recovery CD millimeters thin.
~~~
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2010/10/sergei-rachmaninoff-car-guy-aero-investor/
He was
crying
and wouldn’t take dinner,
so,
huddled off and
to the side,
the three of us we stop
and watch kids
two-hand pitching
over gravel,
then walk on.
This old block -
the architecture
is not the same…
- was this it?
where we fumbled
in her V-dub,
laugh-drunk,
unworried
about
upholstered mud
or taxes?
this where we
played
and got late
for dinner?… -
by the teal house,
I hear young numb knuckles
scrape around
for warmth
or wisdom.
It is too dark.
My hip hurts.
I decide we three should turn back.
On the way home,
I thought I saw an old friend
by streetlight.
Oh dear Miss Ava,
Miss Aging Vanity
Your faded universal beauty
is visually pleasing no more —
especially to your own self
You hate looking at that aging body
The sagging truth stares you in the mirror each day:
twin witnesses of wrinkled lips
curses a flabby contour of much personal disgust
All of your ex-husbands gaze at you from afar,
on the mantle with frozen smiles and empty eyes
Delivering daily unapologetic eulogies
And your jilted lovers speak also with damning praise,
of motel vacancies in open graves of regret
While your beauty fades ... more each day
Oh dear Miss Ava,
living in secluded, upholstered loneliness —
your needs of intimacy so long neglected
by your many once spurned suitors
No one wants to feel your uncaring embrace,
they would all be cast off
if beautiful was still your face of rejection
All of your life,
you placed way too much importance on outward appearance
Oh dear Miss Ava,
aging vanity has robbed you of sensual desirability ...
your most prized possession of a lost youth
Now it is you that have to pay for the artificial embrace
And the sagging truth angrily stares back at you:
twin witnesses of shriveled lips
curses your sedentary, loveless life
Seeing your faded beauty become as colorful flowers
that have lost their luster ... and now wilted,
are discarded with ease