I remember how their mouths nipped at
me.
Fangs of wine-dusted petals, sharp.
Their thorny digits clenching my neck.
In the white hospital room, they come.
With white gowns that swirl like mouthwash.
The gleaming teeth that adorn the
uniforms.
Here, child. The flowers want you to
take this.
And I do, with the orange-peel pill bottle.
Lithium sucks the life out of my marrow.
My family, they do not know me.
And they do not care, to know me.
I gaze into Hades' little den of comfort.
When the shadows shift and shape,
I can see the hollowness of my future,
The futility of my unripe fruit.
Rotten, some of the apples, that's what
They all say. But I see the infant green
Yet, I also know it will never do.
At the hour, and season of eighteen
I slice into the cake of chocolate drywall,
And savor the aftertaste of adolescence.
Don't sit down
until I'm done!
I've counted fifty,
if I've counted one
I sew the linings
of ripped hoodies
for my son,
and other shirts,
pillows, and blankets
some for students,
some were over-loved,
some because I wanted
to be young, beyond the cotton
they were tailored from
But in this dream,
I try to reclaim my bedroom
where the towels and comforters
are stored up high and forgotten
and someone filled the garbage
with empty mouthwash bottles
and unused toothbrushes
I was scared of a door that opened
by itself
in a house I lived in twenty years ago
My mom was always comforting
but I wanted to be brave
Wasteful and unnecessary,
as are the needles I never used
to mend the fabrics I never asked for,
the shirts, the books
I never read
'Somewhere Out There'
is a song written the year I was born
by Linda Ronstadt
and James Ingram
This American tale is short
and hobbling forward,
hopefully
"If love can see us through"
I will love you stronger than steel
if you make headway
I’ve always loved the color pink.
It is the color of ballerinas, barbie dolls, butterfly clips,
And other silly things like those.
Pink is cute
Pink is frilly
Pink is girly
Who would love this fragile color?
Certainly not a strong girl like myself.
Why don’t I like a strong color,
A mighty color,
A fearless color?
Why would I love the color of weak?
The color of soft?
The color of meek?
I do still love pink.
Pink clothes,
A pink rose,
Even a pink nose.
It lurks on the covers of my notebooks,
On my hairbrush,
Even my mouthwash is pink.
Although bolder colors call, I still always chose pink.
Why?
Because kindness is hard.
And because meekness takes strength.
Because living life in love is a choice.
Pink is the courage to be kind.
I've always loved the color pink.
Today is so mendy
But more a mane that covers busy days
In it I had enough repose
To attack the awaiting wakefulness
Defending the hit ground of possible mendicancy
Thou just don't make this known to my Teddy
For no dream will attends me of absent fantasy
I count the way of moon's disappearance
I recall mouthwash
The water's violence hush
Watching the stars' absence
As the chill of the atmosphere espies
May be the other; thou could recognize human
By what he hath on
Set out at midnight solemnly
To cool off the absent harmattarn triumphantly
And bless it to all prosperity
To compliment the hot spell mildly
I wish all winter back again repair
Thy gath the temple a rounded taunted hair
But all a sudden become far chilly fair
Seeming ambiguous and dull
Hath added me creditability mull
Agile and confidently in full
Let the night builds strength
Not to fight my breath
But hang upon with love, so fortunate
To set me on days singing by favors' consent
The man in the elevator's breath smelled like a toot
Or like a stinky sweaty foot that came out of a boot
The lady beside me had broken down and she cried
When she thought that someone inside there had died
When the elevator door opened the people started to shout
So, I rushed and I pushed to be the first to get out
But before I could make my way through the door
I was trampled over and thrown face-down on the floor
The man with bad breath helped me get up to my feet
His breath still smelling like a skunk's breath in heat
I thanked the man kindly, and I thought to be keen
When I slipped in his suit pocket some mouthwash "Listerine"
I have rituals
for the first day of class
like a superstitious athlete
they get me into a good frame of mind
where I feel like a juggernaut who has total agency
and I don’t need to seek validation
It’s a moment in time
I have all my books—stacked on my desk
they look serious—very nuts and bolts
I’ve beaten the syllabuses to death
to try to figure out where my power lies
learning is all energy, it’s a marathon
it’s hard to sustain that for the entire semester
so not switching off, now and then, is unrealistic
Still, I’m comfy in in a classroom (I’m a senior)
Good students are just a little weird.
I say hello to the moon so she won’t feel alone
I say ‘cheers,” before taking a shot of mouthwash.
If I lose my ID, my lucky pencil or something, I call out, “treasure hunt!”
When treating everyone to grubHub I ask, ‘the usual?’ When we’re done I ask, ‘how was everything this evening?’
If I see a random girl looking fabulous, I tell her, because if I get complimented, I think about it for a week.
.
.
A song for this:
Thetan by Single Gun Theory
mouthwash can't remove
lingered bad taste in mouth from
hateful words spoken
Hey you!
Yeah, you.
Know what I plan to do?
I’ll spread Vaseline all over your windshield
And Krazy Glue your wipers in place.
I’ll insert sewing needles, point up,
Into your driver’s seat cushion.
I’ll put dog poop in your air vents
And a dead fish in the bottom of your glove box.
I'll write your cell phone number and email address
On restroom walls at truck stops and sleazy taverns.
I’ll scatter thumbtacks on the shag carpet
On your side of the bed and spit curses into your pillow case.
I’ll fill your shoes with menthol shaving gel.
I’ll smear anchovy paste on the crotch of all of your panties
and put them neatly back in your drawer.
I’ll mix pubic hairs in with your tuna salad,
Dissolve laxatives and sleeping pills in your split pea soup,
Replace your mouthwash with Windex,
Scratch my anus with your toothbrush,
Piss in your bottle of scotch and then...
And then I’ll start to get nasty.
Trust me.
I’m just getting warmed up.
Have another scotch.
Is a massive ant a giant
does a cyclops have cyclips
if you get mermaids shouldn't there be merbutlers
A wich without a t is still a witch
Is an i that hasn't happened a Yeti
If you don't know where the wolf is
does that make it a where wolf
If you ran you hands over Cher
would that be a Cherub
if you gave mouthwash to a gargoyle
would that make it a garglegoyle
If Medusa stayed would she be a gorstay
If you were a small devious devil that lied
would that be implied
I have to delve deeply inside my psyche for this one.
Five benefits of wearing a mask:
1. more difficult to get mono
2. close talkers don’t spit in your mouth any more
3. you don’t have to use mouthwash or brush your teeth
4. you can hide an uncomfortable frozen smile when someone is stupid
5. Meth users can happily smile.
It was vanity that killed him,
not the flames, nor acrid smoke.
If he had got out straight away,
they would have said, "What a lucky bloke."
But he stopped to put on his best PJ's,
which hung behind the door.
Chinese silk with a flower motif,
the collar and cuffs were velour.
Then he rummaged for his dressing gown,
which he saved for such occasions.
Again manufactured from natural silk,
and hand stitched by several Asians.
The flames were now licking under the door,
but he stopped to apply hair gel,
then searched through his drawers for deodorant,
and a spray of his favourite smell.
"Silly me," he thought as he dashed for the door,
"My breath must be really minging!"
and eventually found his mint mouthwash,
which set his mouth and gums a tingling.
A quick look in the mirror to check all was well,
then he deftly opened the door,
the landing and stairs were well alight,
and a big hole appeared in the floor.
"Looks like this is it," he thought with a sigh,
"my vanities done for me yet."
He sat back on the bed with a copy of Vogue,
and lit a Gauloises tipped cigarette.
Morning Blues
Clock rings
Bells sing
Eyes wink
Can't think
Flannelmouth
Wet snout
Stretching limbs
Looks grim
Hair mess
Birds nest
Mouthwash
Bad breath
Late up
Break-fast
Drink tea
Need a pee
More late
Slam gate
Gassy ****
Runs fast
Feet pain
No gain
Miss train
Broke a vein
Gives up
I suck
Mouth foams
Limps home
Back fired
Now tired
In bed
Heavy eyed
Butt aches
Gods sake!
No strut
Eyes shut
This sheep
Fast asleep
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
25.08.2020
Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight,
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes.
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy.
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense,
swallowing the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb,
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.
The glass was half empty until he smashed it on the room divider
Tequila Sunrise on the wall
Shattered the pieces lay on the ground when he walked on his shards
Barefoot floored surrender
A bitter taste of guilt as he wretched his way to the bathroom sink
Unplugged mosaic of pain
The lipstick kiss lingered on the mirror but her toothbrush was gone
Message from a bottle
Staggered in defeat he stumbled on slurred words of another promise
Twisted spluttered echoes
As he rinsed his tongue with mouthwash more lies mourned his loss
Prolonged rapid suicide
It was the kindest thing she would ever do for the wasted drunkard
Tough unrequited love
17th February 2020
We're so underappreciated
You'd think we're in-laws
Yet without us you could have
The most powerful set of jaws
Yet it'd be nigh impossible
To chew, eat or swallow
If you dared pose for a selfie
You'd make sure not to smile
We're your Teeth, top and bottom
And you're just clowning around
If you think there's no benefit
To having us Crowned
Save the exorbitant expense
of toothpaste and toothbrush
of mouthwash and dental floss
~ all driving your budget
deep underground
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