"bushing" poems
*There is no Santa.
Your school called.
Your nose is big.
The police are here.
You failed your driver's test.
You weren't home.
You left the door open.
You're pregnant.
This won't hurt.
You're mother's gone.
I'm leaving you.
Abstinence is best.
We have to re-schedule your appointment.
Loser
Whatever!
You're grounded.
I have none.
Press one for English.
We have to interrupt regular programming for an important...
She's too young for you.
Good-bye.
They also got the bomb.
There's a call for you. (it's 2 a.m.)
You'll move on.
We're out of that... just now.
It's on back order.
Please hold the line while I switch you to...
There's a priest at the door.
The doctor called.
It's the thermocoupler or the bearings or the bushing or...
This is not a test of the Early Warning System.
You've a letter from the CRA.
The trees are turning colour.
It's over.
There is no God.*
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Little did I know that revisiting the pen and page,
Would mean that I would also visit the memories and emotions,
That I had ignored for the majority of a decade.
For simple inspiration.
In order to spin a phrase.
Is that all this was?
To write with meaning.
Was I solving something for myself.
Piecing together clues of what I have become,
Or was it something more.
Perhaps I was releasing the flood gates of an ancient pool.
Teeming with sharks of emotion
That I had let lay dormant.
So, as the gates rose and the sharks were loosed,
I'd thought I'd prepared myself.
I thought that I had learned to tame the sharks.
When really, the God's honest truth was,
I had simply
Ignored them.
For inspiration or resolution
I dared tempting the sharks.
As my heart pool was filled once again,
First I put my toes in,
And the writing improved.
Then a foot, then a leg, each offering improvements of their own.
And soon I was swimming with that which I had ignored.
Seeing now the true size of the beasts,
I soon realized that I hadn't tamed the sharks at all,
And now I was at their whimsy.
I was toyed with at first.
Sorrow bushing against my leg,
And it's brother Anguish circling my floating form.
Love reared its head as well,
Gnashing its teeth to frighten.
And then, all of a sudden they scattered.
Though I felt the inspirations leave,
I wasn't prepared for Loneliness.
As its scarred head and sickle teeth grabbed my torso, it's teeth piercing my heart,
I remembered that beast.
We had been most familiar.
His scars a result of how I had fought him off the last time.
Then he thrashed,
And I bled.
But strangely enough,
I couldn't help but feel comfortable in his jaws.
This was how I remembered him.
Just as I had left him.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
toes touch preening green
brushing bushing basil
smelled of sweetest scents
summer in the morning
sunshine in a teardrop
cicadas in the moon-glow
nicotine nights, tobacco tearing teeth
insects breeding ringing sound
picasso floats within the tall oaks
boring beetles breaching dead birch
death-strokes sounding like your voice
mirrors filled with portraits i do not know.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
The toothbrush starts, “Enameled crooked crescents fence
a cavern filled by slimy growths and walls that tense.”
The towel ruffles, “Four protrusions rife with joints;
the fifth a rounded stump with sev’ral gentle points.”
“Agreed. The knobs and knuckles wear a supple coat;”
the loofah huffs, “it’s gritty, slick, and prone to bloat.”
The eyebrow brush retorts, “It’s two retracting domes
that cause a row of strands to flutter when one roams.”
“While ‘domes’ is right, I venture ‘jiggle’ as more apt -
along with perky, tapered tips.” the brassiere flapped.
The ****** giggle, “‘Bouncy’ could suffice as well,
but don’t forget the dampened folds and prickly swell.”
“Absurd!” exclaims the hairbrush, “More like brittle twine;
Entangled, oily knots that never quite align.”
“Not twine, but thistles bushing out in sweeping arcs,”
the razor sighs, “from paper that too clearly marks.”
A glassy voice laments, “Not one of them’s correct -
how easy this would be, if you could all reflect.”
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 2:07 PM UTC