The Language of Home
Trying to memorize
the language of home,
I have become
a little blurred,
a little brown.
Loving home,
loving it too much,
I have become
a little impure,
a little torn.
I crawl,
indifferent,
trying to swallow
my own breath,
having learned
to ask for permission
even to breathe.
I now call
the Supreme Soul
Coca-Cola.
At the touch
of Coca-Cola's branch,
the sun-scorched crow
has flown away,
towards
the land of the displaced.
Shoe-polish,
Shree-polish,
heart-polish,
all smeared together,
I have chosen
not to become
the youngest,
the devoted,
or the devout,
but instead,
from the earthen pots and pans
of the Rig Veda and the sick-leaves,
from the intimacy
of the examination hall,
I have chosen
to uproot
myself.
My mingle-mangle mismash mixed bag of stuff
Is a pastiche, potpourri, patchwork of remnants rough
The accumulation of this junk was not so very tough
Feather dusters, ink wells, rulers, silver links of cuff
Pincushions, a beaver tail, old Spice, smelly snuff
Nails, shoe polish, tape, puffer that does not still puff
Potholders, elf statue, rags to give car a buff
Petrified cinnamon roll, please don’t give me guff.
pour enough shoe polish into a river ~ stepping stones may appear
optical illusions yes ~ scratch at the surface find man’s true veneer
By
David Kavanagh
My eyes are sutured
can feel the threads,
I stitched them together
stoned out of my head,
Seemed like a good idea,
or so my friends said,
Glue would have been better,
now I can only see red.
My jaws where broken,
teeth wired together,
High on drugs again,
under more peer pressure,
They dared me to down
extra large measures,
Got a pool cue across my face,
carried out on a stretcher.
Yeah I’ve done mad stuff,
and bear the scars,
Causing trouble, acting tough
in trashy cheap bars,
Drank melted shoe polish,
washed down with bubble bath,
Following day I paid for it,
you do the math,
So next time on a binge,
know your own limits,
The whole future can change
in a few short minutes,
Spend life behind bars,
just for being complicit,
Lose count of the shots,
its Perspex visits.
By
David Kavanagh
Polish my shoe, polish my shoe today!
Polish shoe, polish shoe, reflect Sun’s ray,
Hide my head to look at you,
So he will not have a clue,
Polish my shoe till my boss goes away!
Syllables checked at howmanysyllables.com
10,10,7,7,10 with AABBA rhyme
Limerick Fun Poetry contest
Written 29/08/2020
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
All the gym's a stage
And all the pale boys merely players;
Unconvincing ones, too.
At the theatre entrance
I part with pride
For a curious form of Vaudeville.
The maxims of inertia invert.
No longer are the masters
Of the ruling class.
To make up for their deficit,
They perform:
Cackle, strut, and prance disgustingly,
Strive insensitively to sound “street,”
To be street.
(Street actors.)
It must be black magic
To float over concrete,
To steer balls
Into circles.
Audience: the girls and I,
But especially
The dark magicians themselves,
Who either sponsor their imitators,
Or disapprove and sneer.
Cheated of my cash again,
I hurry backstage
And recognize the actors
Without their costumes,
Sporting familiarity: Hollister, Jansport, Abercrombie.
The bell rings; they exit;
The shoe polish
Washes off their faces;
They morph
Into rich white boys
Once more.
I don’t know where Shinola is
Or if it does exist,
But rumors of it, all these years,
Have managed to persist.
For people putting others down
Make reference to it,
Assuming that they can’t distinguish
This poor town from sh--.
I’m hoping that Shinolians
On this are none the wiser,
But that explains why you can’t find
This town on Trip Advisor!
(I always thought Shinola was a place,
but after writing this poem, I discovered
that it's actually the name of a shoe polish,
no longer in existence. Now the expression
makes a lot more sense!)
< halloween haunting's
black shoe polish foundation
ruby red lipstick
pillow stuffed under big dress
red white bandana for hair
spatula in hand
eggbeater in dress pocket
pillowcase for loot
daddy's boots causing blisters
aunt jemima memories
Entry For
Paula Sweanson's
Halloween Of Tears Past
GL AL
Tribute To Childhood Memories
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