So it was disinfectant after all, that's really bats,
the plan was simple - we can get rid of the democrats;
why didn't someone else think of that, perhaps they did,
but not good enough - only a one no-trump bid.
It opens a new wardrobe for future use,
bleach, turpentine, meths would all hang loose,
perhaps we could use Brasso for the *******,
or even grease from the lap-dancer's pole.
My mother had a cure for all ills, no pills,
Calamine, TCP, Lloyd's cream, pain it kills,
Milk of magnesia, germolene, Andrews for liver,
Benolyn cough mixture, if your throat starts to quiver.
She said: 'Get upstairs and wash yourself with disinfectant,'
now we can go further and use it as an expectorant.
Categories:
brasso, community, dark, fear,
Form: Sonnet
A curious cocktail of odours greets us
as we move in from playground
to corridor, to cloakroom, to classroom.
Beeswax fragrance: freshly buffed parquet.
Brasso smell: base metal turned to gold.
Jeyes Fluid: vapour killing vile germs.
Such alchemy starts our day with clean slate.
Playground cacophony left behind.
Now each sound has discipline, has purpose.
First bell: registration shall begin.
Next bell: proceed to assembly hall.
Lasses stand on round marks; lads on square marks.
Regular rows, parallel precision.
Stand to attention. Uniform inspection.
At ease. Handshakes and smiles. Peace be with you.
Silence pervades as we ponder our sins.
With ramrod fingers Miss thumps on the keys.
Staccato. Left. Right.
'Ride on Ride on in Majesty'.
A short sermon on compassion is served.
Then, school notices: soccer successes
and the listing of scallywags destined
for public thrashing at high noon next day.
Third bell: learning shall begin.
RI lesson. St Paul's Journey yet again.
In silence we colour in his route map.
With crayons on auto-pilot we day dream.
Our apostle arrives in Rome by morning break.
Categories:
brasso, bible, education, faith, religion,
Form: Free verse