Controversial Poems - Hello Poetry

Dec 2011

Misnomer

When I hear a concealed clock ticking,
I think it's some shouldered past jello grenade
ready to chastise my fletched thumbs.

Like the last time Sandman drew supper with his knees,
and decided to fling cherry cobbler at my nose,
I realized this homeless perfume actually belonged to Mother.

Her pearls redeem her complexion,
milk marrow of silk against her nose--
three strikes dawdling their tongues
from underneath tin necks.

Steady, rinse, exfoliate:
but those are difficult to do
when your rib cage cracks
like the last octave
of a reddening audience.

Brother thinks the tree skirt is soft,
coddling his pats and rabbits
below a ranch full o' pine scented apples.

Sister wonders if she should bring new girl home,
(met at 1:33 AM on 23rd Street.
Apartment documented to smell like baby powder)
but friends are friends are friends are friends,
just friends as furrowed Daddy repeats to himself.
Even "Hallowed be thy name..." confuses the CCD out of him.

"Cancel Alabama's trip this year;
the bees will be humming in their own candle wax.

Besides, who wants to hug Nana
when her breath doubles over in grilled salmon?"

Nov 2010

JeanlBouwer

ALL AN ILLUSION

Freedom of choice, can never be
Rather, a designed destiny

With
Accidents, default settings by design
Coincidences, planned occurrences in time
Surroundings, attracted by rhyme
Then what, is the influence of time?

A matrix known, to only a few
The rest a drift, never knew
Only filling gaps, for the few

Like sheep, alive in meadow
On man’s command, they go
Slaughter sheering feeding, they never know
So, do we really want them to row?

Do they want to row?

Do we actually harvest what we sow?
Or is it just, part of the flow?

Nov 2010

JeanlBouwer

GOOD OR BAD

Was Set, created to establish God, or God, Set
Do we live, to justify death, or die, to exist
Is life filled with experiences, or is life the experience
Does our good, amplify bad, or our bad, the good
Darkness or light
Darkness, shadow, absence of light
Good, defines evil, or does evil make good
If black, define white, what then, makes grey
Does cold, give pleasure to warmth, or its absences
Which was first, which one exists?

Nov 2010

JeanlBouwer

MASTER OR SLAVE

Who is the master
And who the slave
The one with the whip, the master be
The one whipped, the slave you see

The master, must clothe feed and protect
The slave, merely work and collect

Freedom, over rated commodity at best
Only good, remembered at feast
With equality, the burden is shared
All equal, some more, in harvest bared

Freedom, the choice of master to serve
Never a freedom, more deserved
Slaves to our elect, we’ve become
Only riches and fortune, for some

The slave, now a master by right
Is everything, now alright?

Nov 2010

Bathsheba

Dancing Dead Babies

They say it scars you for life!

They say it consumes your soul!

They say you never get over it!

They say a lot of things …

Am I so

different?

Or maybe?

I’m

just

Indifferent!

Who knows?

I don’t know

I really don’t know

I often peek inside the rusty old bucket of dead babies that I keep in the loft

And?

I feel nothing

Not a **** thing

Feeble

Formed

Foetuses

Swirling around and around and around

and around and around

and around

Why is it that I have no pain?

Why do I not crave my dead babies?

I couldn’t even tell you when they fell out

When they made a run for it

When they thought “**** this …. I’m out of this *****”

Does that make me a bad person?

Would it be more acceptable if I was distraught and inconsolable?

Then you could all pat me on the back and collect my tears

Well ….

Heres the news …

“There’s NO ******* tears here, baby!”

So you all can take your sanctimonious ******* and shove it straight up your sympathetic compassionate arses

In fact

I’ll even lay a wager that if this was

YOU

YOU

would run

through

Imaginary birthdays

Imaginary names

Conceptions

Etc

"Sshhhh ….. Don’t mention babies in front of her"

She is so fragile

Full of so much love

A tiny delicate little flower

Full of so much love

MILK IT *****

COS TONIGHT I’LL BE HOWLING AT THE MOON SURROUNDED BY DANCING DEAD BABIES

— The End —