Let’s take this outside
Your turn to be objectified
Necktied offside and brutified
Come step outside
Where you can no longer hide
Now you and me can collide
You’re worse than godzilla’s bride
Torpefied and vilified
Uglified, mean and evil-eyed
Always snide and undignified
Ringside, in your false pride
the eyes of Hitler recognized
Executing his genocide
Feeling justified nationwide
Lately I’ve been preoccupied
With thoughts of homicide
Accident by countryside
broadside you flip side
See you land in the fireside
For all the misery aside
you put me through - testified
Is your meanness really classified
I’m no longer taking it - qualified
I‘m no longer hiding it - quantified
No more excuses - are you satisfied?
Germicide and pesticide
Have you ever tried
To drink a ton of formaldehyde
To soften up your cowhide
Now we can go back inside
Your reign of terror on override
You’re toast and you’re fried
You’re been hogtied and humanified
Stupefied and rectified
Just as prophesized
Submitted on May 16, 2018 for contest 8-MILE STYLE POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NICK TRIM - RANKED 4TH
Categories:
germicide, abuse, anger, anti bullying,
Form: Rhyme
My husband tried to kill the germs
That lurk within our space.
He bought a spray-top Lysol and
He spritzed around the place.
Now germs are rather clever things –
Invisible and sly;
You never know exactly where
Their tiny bodies lie.
They like to float up in the air
And cling to walls and sinks.
I have no faith a spray will work,
Despite what Lysol thinks.
The label shouts out loud and clear
That ninety-nine percent
Of virus and bacteria
Will leave – that’s the intent.
But what about the germs that hide,
Avoiding all that mist?
And yes, there is that one percent
That’s likely to resist.
There’s really not much you can do
When germs invade your nest –
Drink fluids, wash your hands and yes –
Get lots and lots of rest.
As far as Lysol, what the heck,
It doesn’t hurt to spray.
Perhaps it will convince some germs
It’s time they went away.
Categories:
germicide, health,
Form: Rhyme
The scents I remember like hand rolled cigars
Wine cask lined cellars in musty cool basements
Chocolate miniatures nestled in bright candy dishes
Tea leaves and mint steeping in dainty china cups.
Baked goods cooling on the kitchen counter
Roast with potatoes in a rich onion broth
Lilacs and roses lined on back yard fences
Channel #5 clings to grandmother’s sweater
Scents I remember from childhood spent
Fondly reminiscing with a wistful smile
In this sterile world I live in now
What will my grandchildren remember?
No leaves burnt on a cold autumn night
No carcinogens cooked over red hot coals
No second hand smoke that will cling to your clothes
No hairspray, no tea roses, no creams or colognes
No Sundays exploring my old Aunt Ruth’s farm
No chickens or guineas; no old dusty barns
No fresh moved hay or cinnamon apple pies
Just germicide, purified, Ionic fresh air.
Categories:
germicide, introspection, nostalgia, philosophyold, autumn,
Form: Free verse