What do cows do?
Munch munch grass and moo,
Watch horizons long and blue,
Listen in to insects humming,
Splat fat cow-pats on the dirt.
Cows walk to the dairy in a crowd:
To and fro, to and fro,
Their udders swinging as they go.
They line up for the metal calves
With sucking tubes all disinfected,
Yet cows still seem to sleep contented.
The kitchen's disinfected, the worktops squeaky clean,
The laundry's in the wardrobe and nothing's left in the machine.
The crockery is washed and dry, it's stacked in cupboards, looking neat.
There's just one nagging problem, I've got nothing left to eat!
Adjust and move four words for worth/
Aghast at July 4th I’ll power forward north /
Away from what’s been uncovered worse than I’ve ever been coerced
I devour and nourish as the demeanor looks gorgeous/
He could just be mean and cook gorges/
Or spree clean to book and flee out of storage in the mind/
Got to get adorned oranges to be hoarded all timed and primed/
For the reminiscence of my minutes to cinch/
Or seconds to seize as I inch through this decadence towards reverence/
I’ll replenish and diminish the sacks and lost yardage/
It’s 4th and 4 hence the past porridge to sift in historic pork/
Let’s get to the meat of the stork like underneath the bark of an oak/
I won’t sulk I’ll spark and soak in my marinade/
I stare and gaze with a glare and a glaze/
Going through phase after phase/
Placed in places where there are no choices just voices/
Demands, directions, reprimands and disciplinary actions for noises/
Their discrete dealings and doings drive dimwits down from poises/
Disillusioned durations debunk the punk directly to become disinfected from a disenchanted situation and he rejoices
A little leaven leavens the whole lump,
A moment of festering,
The whole body is thrown off balance,
The whole body is out of coordination,
A moment of taking off the eyes,
A moment of negligence,
Wound festers and pesters the body,
It is infected and
defects the body’s mechanism,
Let wound be washed clean,
Disinfected and protected,
Covered with a sterile covering,
Its healing, our benefit,
Its rejuvenation, our energizing,
Festering wound,
A bane to mankind’s pursuit.
March 8, 2022
Pick - A - Title Poetry Contest: Festering Wound
Edward Ibeh
A month before my life began
A man decked out in robes of black
Gave the world the chance to end
My life before its start.
What is this strange philosophy
Predicated on convenience
That made the choice of death for me
Before I drew first breath?
It seems I had no choice in this
No rights debated or applied
In this death crazed society
My choices all were nullified.
This holocaust of mans fierce pride
These death camps disinfected rooms
Tear from my body whatever needs
Proved righteous motivation.
Were you in the "Well of Souls"
When God first called my name?
Equipping me with traits and talents
Holy omniscience in grace supplied.
Life created within a garden
Placed to live in paradise
When tempted to revolt,
Failed in the choice to glorify.
So it goes through all of creation
Mans dominion proclaimed freewill
Leads down the path toward its own end.
Leaving in its wake
A blackened lifeless scorched creation
This age of foolish pride
Has chosen its own ending,
Beginning with my life.
Quick clay
A dog sent in
Looking for survivors
Given the last hug?
Hunting for people
Silent in quick clay
In a delivery room
She was real and she was perfect
Stillborn
A song played in the room next door
Dobie Gray – Drift away
No beat
A wreck on the highway
Knocking on heaven’s door
A graveyard shift
Knocking on the door
Silence broken
Slow steps
A ship in distress
A chopper sent in
Looking for survivors
A doctor thinking
The silent ones can wait
In the cruel sea
The room was bright
The respirator turned off
Death was pronounced
The body wheeled away
The room cleaned and disinfected
Nobody should die alone
The seats are empty
Nobody tells me to shut up
And dance
Nobody tells me to leave this behind
And sing
One more song
The bigger things are obvious
And are to be expected,
Like sickness, job loss and the fear
Of what’s not disinfected.
But little things I haven’t seen
In ages have affected
The way I feel and I don’t see
How they will be corrected.
Graffiti’s back and littering
And parks they’ve not inspected
For drinking (beer cans everywhere)
And dog poo not collected.
Some car alarms have sounded
(Most ‘round here are disconnected)
And garbage in the streets means rats
Have lately been detected.
The little things add up, of course,
So people have defected,
But those of us who choose to stay
Can’t help but feel dejected.
Six feet apart
Or
Six feet under
Distance lends enchantment
While
Closeness creates calamity
Watching for symptoms
And
Keeping out of harm's way
Browsing in shops banned
With
Online goods to be disinfected
Photographs to remind us
Of
Those we so want to hug
No longer cheering as part of the crowd
But
Confined to watching our heroes on the box
When will we see the end of lockdown
To
Restore colour to our now grey lives?
Before this virus our taken for granted treasures
Now
Deprived of our life-enriching pleasures.
Willing, future wraps in entailment
music playing tricks on the mind
black to light
back to black
distilling moments
bleeding
infernal internal attack
slow lit cigarettes
ignition, pain felt recognition
burnt, a disarray of haze
cutting in and out of undue ambiance
unfiltered in musk filled stall
I, me, all
facing into the wind
taking it in
worlds keep spinning
even if the jester has lost her song
fear spread out in the country
where the once living soon are dead
the kookaburra sits in the gum tree
laughing
there's no one left to see
disinfected
hands can't embrace
dying, the human race
shuttered and sheltered
I refuse to go away/that way
fly to the heavens
the clouds are forming
an ark, a covenant
be that second,
time it's ticking away
the bush has been burning brightly
for way way to long now
put out the cigarettes
emerge from the haze
start living,
and breathe
Six a.m. the alarm click has rung
Time to wake up, time to start being mom
Wake up children
Get dressed, brush your teeth
We haven't a moment to lose
Time to start moving those feet
Jump in the mini-van
Start the engine up
Crap the windows are frosted
It must have dropped temperature
Below 0 again
Kids on the way out the front door
Their pop-tarts just dropped
On the mini-van floor
No need to worry
No need to fret
It looks like this morning
A bagged school breakfast you'll get
Kisses and I love yous
As we pull up to the school
All of this in an hour
My day is not through
Get to the house
Take out the dog
Make up a grocery list 15 feet long
Clean up the bathroom
Gross what's that on the wall
Some disinfected will kill it all
Hubby is home, he's came for lunch
Griping about something to do with his work
Throw in the laundry
It has to smell good
Sit for a moment
Take in the views
Soon school will be over
That means homework and messes
Than dinner and baths
Oh I hate those stresses
All of this while trying
To balance being wife and sex kitten
Finally "WHEW" everybody's in bed
Time to lay down go to sleep
So tomorrow I can do
All this again
The Playground of the Opulent
Today we drove to a posh enclave in Algarve
where the rich live sheltered behind tall walls,
pristine roads were empty not a speck of dust.
They came here to seek privacy not wanting to
the everyday activities of ordinary people and
what they got is loneliness and despair behind
beautiful facades; everyone is a stranger there
is no community in this disinfected hellhole.
This is a striking place has expensive golf courses,
a simple sport with a stick and a ball has become
the only interest for many who are dedicated to
what is the ultimate of infantile pastime. To keep
this place pristine there is a posse of uniformed
men, I think they are there as penitentiary guards.
you were crossing my mind the other day
a part of me just wanted to shoot you a text and say hey
but i knoe we left on unfriendly terms
all the love build just stopped and disinfected like a germ
you ment the world to me at a time,
but now its like all i dread on is that final goodbye line
we were one and now its as if nothing has ever begun
i knoe it hurts deep inside
so bad it makes you wanna hide & cry
but we both just sit there and deny
we loved enough to let go, but i wonder why these feelings still arent so
i thought love was everlasting, apparently not i guess some hearts are blinded
and peoples feelings just go passing
Save your energy...
I've found my center a place to sit amongst the absent.
My mother-my best thought; says she made this all just for us.
Love your enemy...
My father killed my dog-my best friend, lost.
My father killed him then disinfected both hands in our kitchen sink.
A place to sit-to insist the other exists.
Consistently I forget my missing leg; perhaps with the proper measurements
I could fashion myself an adequate replacement...
Save your energy...
My mothe stood by-my father knows whats best for me.
He says he made it all up for us-that'd we'd better make it up to Him.
Love your enemy...
My mommy is secretly my most cherished memory.
I've found my center.
I dismiss those cornering me, gladly
burning down my home in the name of the one re-assuring me.
Save your energy...
I hate myself and everyone else.
I love speaking about myself; yes, I'm even a master at slaving myself. I service the help-first I self service myself heaping portions of self help. I hate myself and anybody else discussing my health. Accomplishments? Laundry lists!
I was very young,
Laying wrapped in cotton sheets.
Eyes heavy with soft happiness
Touched by the warm hand of a summer sun.
Breathed on by flower scented air
Cradled into a smiling sleep.
I was grown up
Laying wrapped in damp cotton sheets
Eyes dazzled with fierce desire
Touched by the flesh of dark promises
Breathed on by a scented whisper
Cocooned into a satisfied sleep
I was older still
Laying on a plastic seat
Eyes forced to find florescent lights
Touched by fear and longing
Breathed on by boozy fighters
Unable to sleep, waiting to be called
I was a parent
Laying in a too hot bed
Eyes wrestling against my ears
Touched by annoyance and sympathy
Breathed on by weary milky air
Forced not to sleep but longing for it.
I am very old
Laying wrapped in plastic sheets
Eyelids glued against my cheek
Touched by frigid cold
Breathed on by disinfected mouths
Waiting for sleep.
She had never seen a real torture,
picture a gentle breeze entering,
the walls were smooth and white,
and the old rule was ignored,
to terrify
you need to look terrifying.
She felt her face collapse
into surprise,
her legs parted,
and there was no bravado,
sterilized instruments used.
There were tables with straps,
all clean, and nothing to redeem,
but she still didn't know what it meant
until the doctor stared at her,
offering her a chance to vent.
She stared back steadily,
torture ran through her mind,
but how?
The room was clean and disinfected.
" Your First Abortion?"
My first torture
replied the soul of the fetus.
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