Crud Poems

my fingernails are black

my fingernails are black
below not above
do I coal mine in my sleep
it’s early morning
what is this stuff?
under every single nail
as if I’d dug myself out of a coffin
my nails could not look much worse
I try to remember my dreams
alas no clues at all
a younger me might have tasted this crud
I have finally learned

Don't Ask Me

mindless Frankenstein,
single-minded,
and her voracious, faithful dog 
with a seventy-foot tail, 
lifting carpets, sliding sofas,
slurping everything in sight,
with a bottomless pit for an appetite,
metal, insects, dead mice, coins,
fingernail clippings, fleas, spider brains -  
It gurgles and wretches 
over paper scraps from childish sketches,
embarrassing for a howling dog,
who wears his name, Hoover, in a stamp
on his bulging side,
a reverse Pandora's box of a canine,
pop him and you see all 
your old friends again,
dreams long dead, come alive, 
but he's roaring like a 
dragon in a Godzilla audition,
and he's got you in his crosshairs,
with a Duranteater snout,
as Ms. Frankenstein squints,
looking for hints,
turning every stone,
so, you gotta keep movin.
she's got murder in her eye.
she won't bake you in pie.
you won't even die.
she's gonna put you in oblivion.
every bit of dirt is gone.
only, you, the dirt king,
emperor of disgust,
crown prince of crud,
evade her tenacity.
finally, sleeping soundly
on a chair's bottom side, 
as she falls with a thud,
and Fido hides in the corner, 
moaning.

Growth Beyond Grimy

Written By:  D. Collins 11/12/24


 A growth spurt beyond grimy, some never do.
No need for names.  They know who I'm talking to.
They are pretty good at changing superficial traits.
But the core of their being is wicked without debate.



That cruddy person will emerge if they spot an edge.
For a substantial gain, good folks could end up dead.
They get Holier Than Thou to complete the fasad.
Swear up and down they are the right hand of God.



Judge them through their deeds and you'll not be surprised.
That, which before you stand, is the Devil in disguise.
What always comes out is what was there before.
The grime, slime, and crud oozing from their core.

Sidewalk Chemist

I test the gum
And the scum
That came from
So many feet
Scrape the blood
And the crud
Between mud
Smooshed on concrete

I sample spit
Ample birds***
All with a flick
Of the wrist
Coz I’m your local
Wearing bifocal
Antisocial
Sidewalk chemist

I run a lab
And own a lab
Called Ahab
And when we walk
I grab a glut
Of cigarette butts
Ahab sniffs mutts
We rarely talk

I test the muck
Assay green yuck
Prod black guck
With tender care
Then it’s all tagged
Labeled and bagged
But I can’t drag
It to a fair

Data is sorted
Then transported
Where it’s reported
By sidewalk chemist
But the town hall
Says I have some gall
With my folderol
And I’m promptly dismissed

I’ve paid my dues
Been on the news
With great reviews
Now for an encore
I’ve been promoted
To test the foetid
And sweaty coated
Men’s locker room floor

new bamboo tases like a tennis shoe

Panda took a bite of the new bamboo
It was fresh and green, but there was a goo
What kind of crud is this? He asked sky of blue
Sky laughed at his consternation, wouldn’t you?

“This new bamboo is as tasty as a tennis shoe!”
He was joined by two cousins, Little Lee and Lu.
They crunched down onto the new green bamboo
This tastes horribly gummy like wallpaper glue!

Hey! Come here! They yelled to Aunt Booby Boo.
She ran right over and said “quit kidding, you!”
Why are you eating the prop put out here by Sue?
Tearing it apart, and eating out the glue?

This irritated Panda, Little Lee and unlovely Lu.
They growled and groused the entire day through.
How did we not see it was plastic? Asked Lu from the dew.
They had no answers, the other cousins, two.

Breaking News on Tossing Trash

We used to think about the stars
  more distant than the planet Mars
But now we only think of Earth
  which puts a damper on our mirth

For on the ground and in the air
  There’s so much crud we just can’t bear
So all of you who toss your trash 
  You ought to be, but aren’t abashed

Be warned! We have a brand-new plan
  That we are sure will soon you land
In jail in your respective towns
  And change your smiles to ugly frowns

So if you like your freedom, guys
  Don’t toss your trash! ~ A word to the wise

Its Greek to me or maybe something else

Immigrantis will poison our blood
Flotillis nonabzorba—a flood
Trumpcissus doth speak
And shall bear this critique
“Thou orate constantinely such crud!”

creepy crud

once again I put on a mask
to protect others
it is too late for me
I have the creepy crud
lower respiratory infection
weird for I have always had upper before
this is new

Rise and Fall

Criminal
waste,
critical mass
materialized warfare
city dumps pile-up and fall
burnt offerings amid
clumps of Caesar salad.
Roman Empires of crud
that roam no more.

Walmart still spills over,
parachutes hung from pot-belly roofs;
air-drops from a plastic heaven.
A few old men
are found asleep at the wheel
of long buried cars.

Homeless are the pigeons
that carry a crusty canker
from pit to heap,
pitiful the pawing fingers
that pounce now upon
the once new branded,
yet more paltry
the poached mounds
of porch-pirates,
their petty ill-gottens
all unpacked alike as empty nests.

When the sooty dark
fumes and blankets,
then rust will clang
in the yawping mouths
of tin-cans,
aluminum bells that clatter.
Then the rodents,
the red-eyed night-shifters
will comb through the tangled beards
of threadbare dreams.

Then withal,
just as the ditched dross have fallen,
dregs shall rise again.

The Cruise

Written: September 08, 2023
Bite Size Poem No71                                Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
________________________________________________________________


On distant coasts, oceans often rise and flood.
Every wave abides by the route of the prior one.
Squat idle loops on sere soil of whale crimson blood
Every strenuous stride is brisk and deftly done,
A foggy crawl on a dreary, windswept cruise crud.

America Dreaming

It is time to get fresh America,
to be plucked wriggling out of that shining sea,
a fresh baked humanity, moon-beam buckled.
Pass no more pay-day-loans
into the purses of the pawn-shopping poor,
give no witness nor evidence
of city shame, and house crud.

America, you can do this.
I am a being from across the world
I am from the ***-end of times,
my transformation, a promise of our mutual destiny,
rampant & manifest, our fate falters
let us be unbridled from
both the prideful and the lackluster,
un-arrested and unmolested
by the land grubbing snipes
or the false-fronted back slappers.
We are better than this blare of ourselves,
and if not
we can make a wooden wagon wheel
from all our legendary days,

It’s not too late, wipe your ass America,
wipe your dirty face. the dusty empire is crumbling
yet our first day is not yet done.
I am ready, ready to soar out of a hundred landfills,
a prismatic dodo embossed upon a tarnished coin
my downy head newly scrubbed of old-time blood.

The Final Straw

Cynthia Kwiecinski and Suzanne Colby
  You've broken every rule of civility
  With the execrable decision you made recently

  You withdrew a job offer from a school superintendent
  for addressing you as 'Ladies' in an acceptance email
  You claim the term constitutes a micro-aggression'  
  But it's you abominations who have disgraced your profession 

  The superintendent-to-be meant to compliment you
  But you two sows couldn't see that for the cud that you chew
  I have much more to say, but come what may ~
    You deserve to chew CRUD for the rest of your days


  _________________________________________________________
  Check out Fox News, April 03, 2023, 'School Superintendent candidate
  says job offer was rescinded...' Story by Yael Halon

Scum

Scummy waters slow lap
an ill-defined edge.

Broken Spider-tangles
drift like torn wedding veils.

The surface of the pond
is thick with rot
bracken, slime soaked weeds,
the yellowing seep of decay
smears the turgid water.

Yet now a ray of sun
stabs through the detritus.
I watch as a circle blooms
within the crud
light dancing beneath.

Clear water smiles upward!
The heart of the pond
is still beating bright.

I holler 'Amen' to the sky
and don't ask why.

The Trials and Tribulations of Life

They're once in a lifetime
These moments of joy
The first time you rattle
That colourful new toy

Your first day at school
With the rest of the kids
Your hair all slicked down
Bad smells Mom got rid

The ultimate joy
Of your first tender kiss
The shock when she tells you
Her period she missed

A puff from a cigarette
Makes you dizzy and ill
The beer in the closet
I remember it still

The joy of first child
The smell of their skin
The softness of touch
Their sweet tiny grin

Your first big promotion
The raise that you get
The first time you notice
A grey hair NO NOT YET!

Middle age quickly follows
With a sickening thud
It's all over now
Your life is pure crud

The sixties are next
And retirement awaits
Where did it go
You're in a hell of a state

Then someone says wryly
You've had a good life
'Whatcha crabbing about?'
But it still cuts like a knife

These tender sweet moments
You experience through time
You'll remember them fondly
And treasure the climb 

Hold on to them tightly
They won't come again
They're once in a lifetime
They're to treasure my friend

Another Speed Bump

Another Speed Bump
Miracle Man 
6-30-2022

Clock hands crawled each waking hour,
 I was confined to a bed, legs had no power.
The air was populated with Hospital sounds,
and every half hour staff made their rounds.

Like mosquitoes, many wanted some blood,
today I’m back home but feeling like crud.
For three days I watched antibiotics drip,
these last four days were just another blip.


My personal motivating quote has always been.

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight,
It’s the size of the fight in the dog.”
Mark Twain

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