The man in the elevator farted,
He mocked us, not knowing sharts departed.
The stench was like a salmon left to rot—
Provoking our anger was all he sought.
Trapped in the foul-smelling elevator,
He begged a shirt from a sneering waiter.
Refused, a dame gave four menstrual pads—
He wore them proud, a banner for the lads.
Another kind woman gave him a skirt,
Still, that skirt got stained with a little squirt.
He would have claimed Scottish, had we not known—
We wish good toilet manners he’d have shown.
Pungent scent plays on the breeze ~ what a stink!
One I think, makes me sneeze
Gagging with each breath, I wheeze
Because of that moldy cheese!
Dark red, luscious apples felled from her own tree long ago
Under the beaming sun plummeted with a soft, aching blow
The sweat drips and plops, scruple over a furrowed brow
Upon the discovery of rot that blackened her plow
“Has the wind gone mad–or am I the one insane?
Dirt and grime, high dry–surely the only way to explain”
Denial among hatred, she could not face–but under the murk, bits
Beneath, the snakes–surly and shabby—placed high their bids
The heat danced faster as the days passed far less paced
Her blonde hair bleached and pruned, but left one space
The temple on her right seemed blank and bruised
As a failed blow far too long past was nearly used
The magazine fell as she begins filtering the rot past her mind
She screams, shouts, yelps and cries, sobs of an animal forgotten by time
“I never meant for this to go–go and blow up like this!
I never meant. . . I never meant for me to hurt our kids.”
Too far from gone she was, behind silken white bars and drenched in ammonia
“I know, my love, but I must leave and forget you—may heaven forbid us, Aurora”
Another election year
Hate seems everywhere
A mist of righteousness fills the air
Hate seems everywhere
Everywhere just look around
Hate so easy to be found
Unamazed why so many choose it
It is so easily to be fueled
Amazed how so many find it
So easily to be cruel
Hate seems everywhere
Everywhere, all around.
An unpleasant stench that surrounds
Turn down the discouraging nouns
Hate seems everywhere
Spew through emotions so unclear
Grooms an ignored atmosphere
in abyss of life's despair
Fed by paranoia and told fears
Becomes a common behavior
around election year
Hate seems everywhere
The Vicar sniffed searching for the culprit
As it rose it overtook the pulpit
Stained glass windows wept
As the brimstone crept
The choir hummed so as not to gulp it
©6/20/2023
He flagged me down
for a lift.
Those were the days when it felt safe
to pick up a hitch hiker.
Soon my eyes were watering
from the stench of urine.
“Where are you trying to get to?”
“Where are you going?”
I was on my way to see the Bishop
sponsoring me for ordination.
Should I take him there?
I pondered.
I dropped him near the city centre.
As with a message from an angel,
“Where are you going?”
has stayed with me
as a disciple of Jesus.
I want to tell you lastly
The smell of you is ghastly.
This "plague" isn't going away anytime soon.
We're openly told this is our new normal.
To bend over and over without any lube.
There's much to be gained by prolonging the pain.
From the made-in-China masks you're wearing.
From the made-in-China parts that go into COVID test kits.
The reds dream of pulling hearts from freedom's chest.
Barbed things are being thrust into our bloodstreams.
One vaccine, concocted from cells of two aborted babies from the seventies...
A boy and a girl, given letters and numbers instead of names.
Just like Jews that were stuffed into Auschwitz cattle trains.
This plague isn't going away anytime soon.
For it's a bonanza for big pharma and conglomerates.
At the deadly expense of the working-class stiff.
While they tell us not to gather in numbers.
The privileged party in Martha's Vineyard.
They released hordes of convicts onto the streets.
To protect THEM from a bug and not us.
They inoculated nursing homes with covid patience
While a mercy ship sat empty in Big Apple Harbor.
Fully equipped with a thousand empty beds...
This Plague isn't going away anytime soon.
To the venue we unfortunately got close
And the stench pounced on my nose,
Forcing in a harming dose
And inconveniencing six other nostrils
That lived for only salubrious thrills:
The fattest challenge Rude stench throws
To our finicky population plus those
Who readily glimpse the woes
In the dreadfully non- fragrant
And about them could rant...
But soon questions I began to pose
About corpse their owners ceaselessly froze,
Envisioning all the unacceptable throes
And wondering if their sleeping spirits rose
'Would they ever forgive their hesitating shovels and hoes?'
I'm so doubtful right now
So the fort has to stay up
I do see your heart though
It does radiate love
Or so it seems at times
I hear your point very well
You mean every word you say
as far as I can tell anyway
It's just that stench
that I can't abide
This reeks of deceit
I'm doubtful of your intent
It's also bitter to taste
rather hard to swallow
feels a little bit
contrived too, I'm afraid
All these red flags
glaring at me
Got alarm bells
blaring in my head
I'd be an utter tool to
ignore them
My mind wants none of it
if I were to be honest with you
And my heart sends you love
though from a safe distance
I do appreciate
the effort you made
But I doubt any good
will come out of this
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.
Sycophants and liars writ large across the news
Spitting bile and venom at any other views
Never mind the truth, never mind what's right,
Never mind the dying, just ignore the blight
Anything for power never mind how low it goes
Blind to covid corpses laying out in rows,
Charlatans at best, snouts deep in the trough
Oop's, watch out their leader's caught a little cough
Yet still the little piggies wallow in denial,
"It's nothing serious," (forcing out a smile)
Clinging on to power whilst in their dying throes,
The stench of desperation, lingers on their clothes.
THE STENCH OF DEATH,
It started in china, It started in Wuhan, It visited Italy,
It visited the mighty land of the POTUS, It is here and it’s real.
The smell of death is everywhere, I can feel the stench, so sharp,
It never discriminate between the poor and the rich, Everyone is scared about this Corona,
Mother earth is healing herself.
When it visited Italy,
Keeper of Italy issued a quarantine, The Italians thought its holiday time,
See what has happened, death eating them badly, So as I write these, my conscience tells it real.
Let mother Earth heal herself and also let humans live.
Be a brother’s, sister’s keeper, stay clean and you will live!
The Rich are afraid and shaken,
The poor are crying, but all are equal,
This shadow of death, just like a shadow knows no color white and black, The rich and the poor are crying,
Brothers and sisters we need cleansing as much as we need sanitizers,
The most high come down and empower the angels in long white over coats, Let them get the antidote and save us.
Feeling a rumbling deep in my gut
I'm not quite sure what that’s all about
as I clench the sphincter in my butt.
Something rank is trying to get out
and based upon my bloated bowel
it's going to succeed; I've no doubt.
I might need to throw in the towel
as past experiences affirm
and yet, I fear its stench could be foul.
An internal pressure makes me squirm
and I’m counting down to the blastoff
when this gassy build-up comes to term.
There is no way I can put this off
and yet, to concede may not be smart
even when it’s disguised, with a cough.
What if it turns out it's not a fart,
but its embarrassing counterpart?
Terza Rima
04,04,2019
quirky tercets poetry contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Expel the bile; quench it at source
Excise the cause; bite it right off
No other way; no other course
Do it now; dump the stench in trough.
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