stealing booty arti-
fact oats from a
cut-up maybe's micro buy-one
brain cache is like abhorring a
clashing washboard
knight in your weird new
beer view mirror
The Grinch
has habits that make humans flinch.
One is rubbing himself with onions to create his favorite scent,
knowing but not caring it is public torment.
his writes have smelly odor, much sarcasm, hope he read Mind Your Language
Aromatic, foul
Fuming scent, last night’s dinner
Reeking, stinking smells
you think I'm cuckoo
the smells that make me boohoo ~
gaseous poopoo
I sniff at my hands and oh!
Such scent, such ecstasy,
a memory presented to my nose.
But where do we find this block of adorable redness?
It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap,
an aromatic compound, so ruddy, so redolent.
But this is now so rare; it merely
presents itself to my pleading mind -
a psyche that puts forth its arms,
a plea to a storehouse of valuable memory,
a whiff of an echo, an echo of an odour,
an odour that's been sent.
So who remembers, recalls a soap that's not
so round, bright pink, cream, blue or white,
that isn't sold in pretty-pretty paper?
We do so wish to sniff, sniff, sniff at an odour that's so old.
(3 Oct 2023)
After the rain,
came the smell
of rain
as the earth
vaporized its
pleasure at
its renewed
fecundity
felt deep within.
The musty scent
of dampness
loaded with aromas
and fragrances,
wafted up from
damp organic stuff.
Wetted by drips
and drops, and
scattered splatter spots
daubed on the
parchment of
dryness, the smell
of rain arose,
in a spiral,
curling upward.
Still, somehow, a man of purest valor:
From nothing flees - please, add Hard Labor.
In labor finds his fun and ardor,
At home nose for wild beasts’ odor…
But he can’t lectures give on Labor:
Exactly where he’s got no valor;
Merely keeps repeating “Field Labor
Johnson shall continue to savor!”
To this moment, some man of valor,
Towards challengers walks no armor,
Sometimes wearing a smile of humor:
A ship sure to berth at its harbor.
Now, sad battles with a brain tumor,
Valor to end with a tremor,
A wonder he still retains humor
Right eye on son, his left on labor.
Chantilly lace curtains of my apartment window ripple in the cold January night. From here, I observe mooring lights that illumine the docks in this petty northern port and four cafés that lean toward one another, side-by-side, though separate and apart. I wonder at their co-location. Their twinkling lights blur together in a loud kaleidoscope of color.
The harbor winds carry putrid odors to my window. Sidewalk signs cover most of the walkway. Though too distant to register detail, I discern the outline in flickering neon of two women outside the smallest café as men clad in oilskin foulies lumber into the second, barely a bar, as they all are. Faint modern dance rhythms announce a tiny dance floor inside the third. The brightest café-bar has no one visible. A lone figure in casual attire moves from café to café, not staying long. He moves in the same pattern, over and again, stopping once to chat with the women. I wonder what or who he seeks. The women disappear down a side pathway.
With a desultory outlook for the evening, I close my window, wrap against the cold, and descend the European-styled spiral staircase.
The sweet smells of Christmas linger
Like the pine from our Christmas tree,
The gingerbread fresh from the oven
Has always had a special appeal to me.
A fresh pot of cinnamon cider simmering
The scent of sugar cookies cooling
Lends the air of festivity to mid-December
They always serve to start me drooling.
Fragrance of Burberry candles fills the house
Fresh linens seen only during the holiday
The marvelous smells of Christmas dinner
Bring back many memories of yesterday.
Written November 29, 2022
I had a good friend who was a Kim
She was really such a bright gem
She taught me that fun
Meant secret farts, no pun
Smelly, though we were young and quite trim
May The Gas Be With You Farts Part 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
September 29, 2021
I want to tell you lastly
The smell of you is ghastly.
no one knows him in the room
except by loss of breath
greeted as unwelcome guest
his stinking scent is death
noses wrinkled in disgust
when sensed this gust of wind
all souls beneath his sickly scent
are far too quickly pinned.
inhaled in gasps of shortened breath
each person feels impending death.
Surprised, all eyes begin to scan
so desperate for a breeze or fan.
Feeling faint they seek escape
from reeking odor, lungs in rape.
A paler pallor faces all.
noses seeking some release.
knees so weak they nearly fall
from lungs too weak to call.
Those outside hear tears and pleas
so open doors for those on knees
finger pointing, whispered tone
but none the smallest fart will own.
Small fart dissipates and leaves
crowd relieved, all sigh.
A slow goodbye that no one grieves
so glad to see the open sky.
No friend the small fart has, he knows.
He comes and goes by wrinkled nose.
All he does so quick offend,
wish to hell he'd swiftly end.
Jabberdine lips lie
Trumps message in a battle
Nosferatu IQ
Sex 101
by Michael R. Burch
That day the late spring heat
steamed through the windows of a Crayola-yellow schoolbus
crawling its way up the backwards slopes
of Nowheresville, North Carolina...
Where we sat exhausted
from the day’s skulldrudgery
and the unexpected waves of muggy,
summer-like humidity...
Giggly first graders sat two abreast
behind senior high students
sprouting their first sparse beards,
their implausible bosoms, their stranger affections...
The most unlikely coupling—
Lambert, 18, the only college prospect
on the varsity basketball team,
the proverbial talldarkhandsome
swashbuckling cocksman, grinning...
Beside him, Wanda, 13,
bespectacled, in her primproper attire
and pigtails, staring up at him,
fawneyed, disbelieving...
And as the bus filled with the improbable musk of her,
as she twitched impaled on his finger
like a dead frog jarred to life by electrodes,
I knew...
that love is a forlorn enterprise,
that I would never understand it.
Keywords/Tags: first love, sex, sexy, lust, passion, desire, school, student, teen, teenage, learning, bus, foreplay, fingering, odor, musk, romance, romantic, humiliation
Sub Categories
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