I've borne the heavy load.
I've worked all the day.
Got two children at the house to feed.
Husband's gone away.

I've a bunion on my toe,
But I've got a corn pad.
With a smile upon my face,
Swear, it don't hurt so bad.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky!
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.

My fingers gnarl and seize,
The handle's hard to grip.
I hope the boss don't send me home.
The kids have a field trip.

When the kids get on the bus
To travel out of town,
I might take a few days off
To lay my tired head down.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky.
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.

I am faithful to the work.
I don't call in sick.
I'm hardworking as a man.
The foreman calls me "chick."

I never complain about my back.
Lord, He knows, I need this job.
I can take the stripes they give.
Don't give my raise to Bob.

Don't the moonlight look so grand,
Shining in the sky.
Walking home from second shift,
Clean cars are wizzing by.

There's a light mist in the air
That gives me some relief.
In the crock *** waits at home
Hash and good corned beef.

My dictation program has an accent
It types out the most unreadable things,
When I say something like " my bunion stings",
It types back to me about onion rings.
There have been embarrassing moments
When I was chatting along quite normally.
I found myself feeling very thankful
That I hadn't been chatting formally.

The conversation needn't be special,
Nor use any esoteric phrases.
But some of the crap this program prints
Astounds, stultifies and amazes.
It can't be brushed off as an accent thing;
My speech is quite non-dialectic.
Sometimes it seems that Apple, Inc
Wants to render me apoplectic.

But, the way it is I have no human beings
That I can focus my frustration on
When something that company sells at a store
Turns me into an unwitting pawn.
As it is it's an iPhone and I can't pity it
When I hit "send" too fast and seem an idiot.
It’s possible I am asking far too much
Of the current reach of technology.
Even though our phones seem part of us
They aren’t really part of our anatomy.

Overwhelming, bitter, unsteady
Alcohol burned my nostrils
Wisps of the scent crawling
Crawling through my sinuses
Lodging in my nervous system
Obscuring the thoughts
Adhering to the brain

Your choice affects me.
And though it may seem strange,
Such a way of delight enters me
When you speak my name.
We dance with a dance
That is not our own
Statistical, recycled, frequent

Beer bottles chipped, flutes shattered
From slamming against the coffee table.
You twirl me towards a wine glass.
Blood seeps from the shards
Staining crimson, the carpet of facade.
Acidic from heel to bunion,
Daddy no longer dances.

I'm off to see Jenny
she's keeping well,
just worried about her bunion
but she's a brave lass.
The way she cares for one and all
and carries her mascara,
with dreams of being a brunette.
not forgetting her penchant for wearing worn designer shoes -
she insists on taking to Bournemoth despite
stubbing her toe nails,
to no ones avail.

She gave this Earth everything she had
       Poured her heart
                               Her validation
                                          Her lusting touch
She gave the Earth her all
Toes touching deep within the soil
Bunion roots pulled in the dirt
Head tilted up to the skies
she gave this Earth everything she had
          Stole his heart
                              His validation
                                      Exchanged for lusting touches
She enveloped the tree blanket forest fur around her
Let it seep in, till there was no difference in the ocean and her blood
Found strength in a dying population
                              found her life
Took it all down with her rise
This Earth was everything she had
*This Earth was everything she was

These pillows always sink
Into themselves,
Though you may thresh in vain.
Comfort is only
As far away as from here
To Rorschach,
From the drop of a coin
To the fall of a leaf.
The covers keep slipping
Up and past your feet,
Cold clings to porous holes
In 12 count Egyptian sheets.
Cotton sticks to skin,
Like the bristles of a crab;
You rub feet
Bunion to bunion,
Your hands clack
Claw to claw.
These comforts
Are only temporary,
Disposable,
Thrown from a window
Into a dumpster
And into your cave,
To pervade your oceans
With our human stench.
Despite caverns
And sky between you
And the cold city outside,
The shiver sticks,
Stays on your back
Like sessile sponges
On unsuspecting mollusks.
As the lobster
You rise from the deepest darks
Of night-time in the sticks,
To peer out with tentative antennae
At the messy alley you come to
Lie down in when sleep comes to
Take you away from
A life where the pillows never puff,
The covers never wrap,
And the comfort of your cave
Is always cold.

Spreading my words around like bumble bees with the pollen.
Spreading far like the birds when the sea is calling.
Spreading throughout your brain like a gentle virus.
These words calm you, yet infect you with darkness.
A man with out a cause, a man with no applause,
as everything he does is littered in flaws.
To truly know this man is not an easy task.
This man will only show you his mask.
He's deep like the great abyss of the ocean.
Like it's inhabitants, he's darkness in motion.
He's got many layers like the journey through an onion.
No mistaking this man for Paul Bunion.
His strength is depleted, and will, he has not.
What once was a man of life is now merely a robot.
Most times he dwells in the man who he believes is broken.
Leveled by his peers, his words became unspoken.
He used to stand out from the crowd.
Now he drifts through it on the cushion of a dark cloud.
Negativity is this man's birthright.
He will carry that burden until he can no longer stand upright.

drunken podiatrist
face full of feet
seated at the reapers’
keep
pleated sneakers
freak seekers
weaker than peeking tweekers
needing respite a quiet pine cove beacons
alone with disorganized thoughts,
sleep evades capture
melancholy and fidgety
***** fingers fumble in the needles
absentmindedly truffle hunting
little piggy, sad and introspective –
well-wishers fish for the perfect dish
the combination of flavors that will remove pain
while creating pleasant inconsequential conversation
as no one wants to look at reality
even in times of loss
…but at what cost?
mossy lip gloss tossed
plausible pauses cause
raw nerve sawing –
bunion burns and yellowed toenails curl
once again seated in front of the lonely *******
red eyes hide nights of lies to wives
despising the rising bile
fruit flies dive against spore covered windows
cluttered floor acts as a shore against poor ******
and he has the audacity to charge my insurance –

There once was a man who liked to eat grunion
he ate them with ketchup and onion
he ate them for lunch
he ate a whole bunch
he ate so many they gave him a bunion

There was a lady who liked to eat cheese
but when she ate it she started to sneeze
she'd sneeze and she'd cough
till her hat would fall off
and she developed a terrible wheeze

There was a young girl who ate cantaloupe
while she rode on the back of an antelope
she rode along fine
and continued to dine
till her antelope tripping, slid down a *****

There was a boy who liked mango
when he ate it he did the fandango
he'd throw out the peels
then with a click of his heels
he would dance a beautiful tango

There was a lady who loved carrots
but so did her large group of ferrets
if her ferrets were there
she had to give them a scare
to keep them away from her carrots

There once was a man who liked to eat soup
but when he did it made his ears droop
it was hard to recoup
with ears covered with goop
but he just couldn't give up his soup

There was a young lad who liked waffles
Though they made him feel really awful
he ate them with butter
then he would sputter
and develop a terrible cough-ful

There was a man who loved to eat stew
but when he ate it his face would turn blue
it was truly a ghastly hue
he looked like he had the flu
as if he was sick through and through

There once was a lady who liked custard
she ate it with pickles and mustard
a strange combo, she'll grant
since she's not even pregnant
when she was asked she'd always get flustered

My smile is my dressing
coating the surface a creamy
red, spreading over a lettuce
bed. But it all pours from

a bottle. I’m a chopped onion,
protruding as the bunion on my
foot/hacked as a computer by
an adroit crook. The saddest

women smile as if their eyes
were cherries. But inside the rounded
glossy fruit lies a stone. And once all
the flesh is consumed the stone is spitted out
like stream from a whale’s spout.

its’ carried
within you
it’s the mole
on your face
the sty
in your eye
the snarls
in your hair
the canker
in your mouth
the callous
on your hands
the knots
in your stomach
the cyst
on your back
the blister
on your foot
and the bunion
Look What
he’s done

eventful tuesday 05.09.18

going to start with psychic
this is really moving ground
sally went for high kick
don't ask hardeep he just moves dirt around.
accessories were not feared
hardeep midlife crisis clips
hilarious was on bear ed
nice comment about lips.
kirsty had a little cheese
was like no man that's invisible
bit of nice comedy please
hardeep smiled udderbly irresistible.
a new fragrance in demand
hooking me a lover is no wish
jermaine pass the bottle i command
just pre-ordered 10 bottles of the fish.
flowing was the toilet seat
not going to tarnish or smear
chicken was not sweet
in hard deep was diarrhoea.
taken out on chicken
predictable as sally and the box
hardeep punched it and gave it a good kicking
think this was a CBB therapy detox.
sally having guilt
wanted to be one of them go getters
did kissing comment make you tilt
offer to hardeep for letters.
ryan had a good clue
coming from his brother
not added to me to
so proud must be mother.
not onto cheese and onion
never have this inflicted
out of order was to sally and bunion
breaking news jermaine just evicted.
not in his dreams
won't be getting in his car
ryan and hardeep breaking at seams
very relevant and i quote bizarre.

Slo Pokes.
Dreamcicles.
When I was kinda oppressed I thought your average Dixie Cup was a treat.
Dell Magazine Cowboy Star book.
Used comic books.
Marbles.
Banana bubble gum.
Bowman's baseball cards.
All-time great pro football player cards.
College great football player cards.
Autographed pictures of heroes.
Autographs, period.
A favorite clip-on bowtie.
A bunion shirt here and there.
Faded classic Levis.
In my college years grape gum and red licorice
and a treasured Ivy League clothing item
like my Brooks Brothers garters, for example.
In junior high and high school 16 magazine
American Bandstand from Philadelphia
Commemorative issues
A Dairy Queen extra large vanilla cone - and a medium one when I was little.
Favorite pairs of Bermuda shorts.
Charming picture of me as a kid.
Pictures of my parents when they were first married.
Some favorite books like Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
and a book on Ovid's Metamorphoses by an established classics professor at the University of Indiana - I can't quite remember the name.
And when I had a couple of prized 45 records like Patricia by Ricky Predo and Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White by Prez.
On that note,
fin

I Put On

a smile
like dungarees
to tease men
as I die inside
to hide the scars –
men see stars
lipstick pants
dance

I put on
**** lingerie
beg men
not gay
showing the rabbit hole
down below –
not the gaping ditch
in my soul

I put on stilettos
cuts into my bunion
men peel me
as an onion
but they’ll not cut
to the center
of my splinters