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Donall Dempsey Oct 2018

The perfect summer's day.
The sky a postcard blue.

Hate distorted voices...faces
chanting: "STICK IT IN HIS GUTS!"

A lark ascending
throws itself against the vault of Heaven.

Only to be

**** THE *****ING *******!"

God has a sick sense
of humour to have

bayonet practice
on such a perfect day.

The world whirlpools
down the plug hole

of Corporal 'Orrible's
almighty mouth.

He hates me because I
(Pt. Dempsey D. No. 835572)

am not showing enough
hate to **** a sandbag.

Sweat trickles down my spine
vertebra by vertebra.

The sandbag ***** the blade in
and won't give it back again.

I pull it out and fall
upon my derrière.

The sandbag bleeds sand.
Mocks my efforts

which displaces the book
I have about my person.

"What's this...what's this!"
Corporal 'Orrible hisses.

"A book, Corporal!"
"I can ****** well see it's a book!"

"A poetry book, Corporal!
IN PARENTHESIS by David Jones."

" do you think I'm
thick or wot!"

"Wot, Corporal?"
"Don't you wot me sunny Jim!"

His spit
peppers my face.

"There isn't enough white space
around the words for it to be a poem!"

"That's not an accurate definition
of a poem, Corporal!"

He froths at the mouth
tears it in half...throws it over his shoulder.

"Why you impudent little pup!
*** that rifle up...up....up!"

He runs me around the training ground
three times and then three times.

Later I go back and find
only half of it.

The half I have already read.
A sheep is nibbling it.

But like the Corporal it isn't
to his taste.

Over 40 years go by and
here I am an ex-army man.

Finishing the second half of

Remembering all too well the hell of
running 'round the training ground

three times and then three times
with my rifle up above my head.

Oh the agony of bearing arms.
Remembering too never to argue

with a corporal's definition of
poetry during bayonet practice.
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you

Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, *******, *******, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand

This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays

Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with

With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...

From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
The Master Corporal said to me
"I'm gonna do a show"
"Don't worry what I say to you"
"I just thought you should know"

Injured, badly two weeks gone
I was set to be held back
My knee was torn apart and
that, was not something I could hack

The day I was demoted
My Master Corporal came to me
He said "Turner, I hate to do this"
"But, it's for the'll see"

I waited for inspection
With the others all on line
They were standing at attention
Me on crutches the whole time

"Turner, is there anything"
"That I should hate to find"
"Is there stuff inside your locker"
"of a non-military kind"

I stood there at attention
Waiting for the end to come
As he looked all through my kitting
Found dust upon my gun

He opened up the locker
And a moth came flying out
It flew past the Master Corporal
And then it danced upon his snout

The yell...was heard in England
"A've got a pet"
"Who said that you could have one?"
"It's not allowed...A PET"

The moth found the first window
flew back towards him once again
Left some moth dust on his beret
And he flew away right then

The Master Corporal's outrage
At being "mothed" by my new pet
Was one I don't think many
In our platoon would soon forget

He started throwing clothing
Chucking boots around the room
I knew it was all acting
But, those boots can really zoom

When finished he stood waiting
For a response, I stood and stared
I could not break out a smile
I had to show I didn't care

He moved on through the others
Looking for more moths on the way
But, that first one and it's face dance
Well, it surely made my day

He drove me to my barracks
Up to my new platoon
"I hope you liked my show today"
" I know I'll see you soon"

"Just do what you are ordered"
"And one thing don't forget"
"When you next have an inspection"
"Don't have an insect for a pet!!"

I remember fondly that last visit
He knew it hurt for me to leave
But, every word in here is truthful
You can choose to not or to believe.
This is a true story. I was challenged to write about a moth.....and I did.