The sleeping teeth therapist




Brains Jameson was a dentist who was killed in a car accident in 1987, and mind you
He had a very good imagination, you see he hated to go to the dentist, because he was too poor to have major work done, and he did a course in dentistry, which he did pass, but after 5 years of looking for a dentist job, he almost gave up, and I say almost because on his way to another job as a dentist he was killied in a car accident, and his life was over, untill now.
You see Brains had an old girlfriend who has just got a job as a dentist in downtown Canberra, and she really wanted to keep this job, and brains saw this as an opportunity to bring reincarnation to the next level, you see Brains decided to go into his old girlfriends mind and try to get his girlfriend to go into business with him, and at first his girl who was Roslyn Matherson said that going into partnership with a dead man, is the worst business decision that she could ever think of in the whole world.
The only thing is Brains knew he was dead, but he knew also that he can use some death power way to make this work, but still Roslyn hated the whole thought about losing her practice, but being noble, with her heart set on this being just a dream, asked Brains how,
And Brains said that I can make a pill that you give patients that really can't afford to pay the big bill, and that pill will be on prescription when to take it, and as soon as it is taken, he'll fall asleep and he or she will be lifted up and I will operate on their teeth in the big dentist up on the sky, and I will only take the poorer ones, because I ain't gonna need profit up here.
Roslyn said to Brains,sure why not, and them woke up thinking that her head must be really knocked up to have this crazy hairbrain scheme coming up, but what Roslyn didn't know was that Brains has found a way to get his plan to work, you see, because he is now dead he can unleash his spirit and make businessmen make silly decisions, like suddenly inventing a pill that did the work of a dentist without seeing one, and it doesn't take the pain away, it was exactly what was in Roslyn's dream, and Roslyn said to her boss, this is the shonky work of Brains Jameson, there is no way this pill will fix your teeth, and besides if we give patients easy answers, they won't pay the bill, and the boss who was under the influence of Brains Matheson, said no Ros it's only the poor that will try this, normally poor people want easy answers anyway, and besides it had been approved by the dentist board, cause they tried this on rats with tooth decay, and Ros they haven't got any signs of tooth decay, it's like someone is running a cheap dentist in another world, and Ros said don't even joke about that, but she had no choice but to except and the first patient to get the pill was Phil Desser, who was poor with no job, and went to see Ros, who said you need to have Root Canal therapy and she discussed the pill option with him, and if the pill doesn't work, she will fit the bill, and Phil really hated the dentist so much, this pill option was cool, so he tried, and read the pack and he needs to sleep straight away for this to work and when he was asleep
Phil was lifted up and brains worked on his root canal, and he seemed to know exactly what he wss doing, and  the next morning Phil woke up and hey presto the pain was gone, and then he went to the dentist and Ros looked at it, and the roof canal wss gone,  and Phil was on his way to recommend the pill to all his friends, yes, this was a cheap way to have work done without surgery, and then George Bernsally came to see Ros and complained about the price of the dentist, and it really ahouldn't cost that much, and after arguing the point day in and day our, Ros eventually tried the pill on him to put a filling in his teeth and yes he took the pill, and again Brains brings him up and hey presto he worked on giving him that filling, and when he woke the next morning, he felt like a new man and saw Ros and again she noticed it was gone and Ros went home and tried to argue with Brains spiritually and Brains said thanks, I always had a dream to make dentists cheaper and you saw yourself that I get rid of their problems, you see I want to be greedy and have anybody, but you need to be busy, so I will take the low income people from you, and Ros agreed at the moment while the poor are happy with the whole thing.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

Macbeth, Doctor Zhivago, Captain Call, Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Allen Ginsberg, and Rod McKuen Visit the Dentist but Have to Wait for Beowulf's Root Canal

         In gratitude for all the wonderful dentists, hygienists, and
                       technicians who keep us chewing!


                                  Macbeth Visits the Dentist

Is this a drill which I see before me
The whirring drill outstretched to my teeth
O happiest gas! Come let me clutch thee!
Before my body I throw my dental shield


                            Dr. Zhivago Visits the Dentist

Poor dental hygiene is for crowds of mediocrities
Only individuals seek dentistry
And they shun those who tolerate bad teeth
How many things in the world deserve our loyalty?

A dentist whose papers are in order


                            Captain Call Visits the Dentist

Call saw that the dentist was looking at him
The nitrous oxide drained out of him
Leaving him feeling tired
“I hate a bad tooth. I won’t tolerate it.”


                 Yevgeny Yevtushenko Visits the Dentist

For a tooth to come out
Some of the pain must be devoted to Stalin
Soviet dentistry demanded happy endings
I knew I could floss and brush better than Mayakovsky
Bella’s teeth were second only to those of Akhmatova
Only I could make Babi Yar all about me and my teeth
When I saw a dentist in Zima Junction
I saw the truth of the Revolution in her little mirror


                     Allen Ginsberg Visits the Dentist

I saw the best teeth of my generation destroyed by sugared sodas and a failure to brush and floss

dragging themselves through the medical complex at dawn looking for a fix

thinning-hair old hipsters burning for relief from aching jaws at the healing hands of dedicated professionals among their shining instruments

dedicated professionals who did not drop out of the University of Arkansas and never saw Mohammedan angels among the rooftops


                                   Rod McKuen Visits the Dentist

I am like a molar; I have chewed alone
Gnawed a hundred hamburgers
Never found a bone
Still and all I’m toothy
Reason is you see
Once in a while along the way
Dentists have been good to me.

Doctor or Dentist

An enormous raindrop fell under an umbrella and nearly
drowned the occupant under it. A dentist came opened her mouth
and being ethical pulled out the wrong teeth.
Another man came said he was a doctor and told the dentist
to stop, the dentist said I too am a doctor, and rotten teeth
are sorry for the health, even a pill pusher like you ought to know;
The dentist was rude because he was fed up not being called a doctor.
it came to blows. Meanwhile, an ambulance came
picked up the nearly drowned lady and stopped the fight between
the two medical professionals, the skirmish made the dentist
happy because the ambulance had said; you doctors should not
fight in public.

A VISIT TO THE DENTIST

The Green Mile to
The Chair
The snap of hygienist’s latex gloves, then
Scraping, scritching, spitting blood

“Only one” gaping hole
no matter how much chocolate I eschewed
in favor of chewing Trident
(I’m *******)

The Dentist
My personal Olivier, and I, his Dustin.
Needle.  Lets it set in.
The drill, the smile of the sadist
squealing torture, my mouth on the rack
I CAN FEEL PAIN
but it comes out, “owiusmmorsoss”
(“ow, I want some more shots!”)

Another shot.
I press on:  “LA.  The 70s.  I did more than this for fun.”
Reluctantly, another shot.  And another.

As the drill grinds and keens
I pull out my secret weapon – how could I forget?
This is why God
invented the IPod

leaning uncomfortably backwards
on the dentist chair
mouth gaping, strange
thick latex fingers
poke borrower weapons inside
and contort my lips into shapes

would it be easier
if we could excavate all the 
decay in a body
with a drill and replace it
with a shining pearl-cap?

i dreamed a rattlesnake was loose in the closet i heard it rattling i was afraid to open the door



a man suffering a toothache goes to see his dentist the dentist administers laughing gas when the man comes to his numb tongue swooshes around his mouth he asks how long was i under the dentist answers hours i needed to pull them all out



he imagines when he grows old there will be a pencil grown into one hand and a paintbrush grown into the other they will look like extra fingers grown out from the palms extensions of his personal evolution little children will be horrified when they see mommy mommy look at that man’s hands!



what if we are each presented with a complete picture of a puzzle from the very start then as our lives proceed the pieces begin showing up out of context sometimes recognizable other times a mystery some people are smarter more intuitive than others and are able to piece together the bigger picture some people never figure it out



i wasn’t thinking i didn’t know to think nobody taught me to think maybe my teachers tried but i didn’t get it i wasn’t thinking i was running reacting doing whatever i needed to survive when you’re trying to survive you move fast by instinct you don’t think you just act



many children are relieved when their parents die then they no longer need to explain prove themselves live up to their parent’s expectations yet all children need parents to approve foster mentor teach love



she was missing especially when her children needed her most she was busy lunching with girlfriends dinner dates beauty shop manicure masseuse appointments shopping seamstress fittings constant telephone gossiping criticizing she was too busy to notice she was missing more than anything she wanted to party show off her beauty to be the adored one the hostess with the mostest



i dreamed i was condemned to die by guillotine the executioner wore black and wielded an axe just in case the device failed in the dream the guillotine sliced shallow then the executioner went to work but he kept chopping unsuccessfully severing my head this went on for a long time



1954 Max Schwartzpilgrim sits at table in coffee shop on 5th floor of Maller’s Building elevated train loudly passes as he glances out window it is typical gloomy gray Chicago day he worries how he will find the money to pay off all his mounting debts he is over his head in debit thinks about taking out a hefty life insurance policy then cleverly killing himself but he cherishes his lovely wife Jenny his young children and social life sitting across table Ernie Cohen cracks crass joke Max laughs politely yet is in no mood to encourage his fingers work nervously mutely drumming on Formica table then stubbing out cigarette in glass ashtray lighting another with gold Dunhill lighter bitter tastes of coffee and cigarettes turns his stomach sour he raises his hand calling over Millie the waitress he flirtatiously smiles orders bowl of matzo ball soup with extra matzo ball Ernie says you can’t have enough big ***** for this world Max thinks about his son Odysseus



when Odysseus is very young Dad occasionally brings him to Schwartzpilgrim’s Jewelers Store on Saturday mornings Dad shows off his firstborn son like a prize possession lifting Odysseus in the air Dad takes him to golf range golf is not an interest for Odysseus Dad pushes him to learn proper swing Odysseus fumbles golf club and ***** he loves going anyway because he appreciates spending time with Dad once Dad and Odysseus take shower together Dad is so life-size muscular hairy Odysseus is so little Dad reaches touches Odysseus’s ******* feeling lone ******* Dad says we’ll correct that make it right Odysseus does not understand what Dad is talking about at finish Dad turns up cold water and shields Odysseus with his body he watches Dad dressing in mornings Dad is persnickety to last details of French cuff links silk handkerchief in breast pocket even Dad’s fingernails toenails are manicured buffed shiny clear



Odysseus’s left ******* does not descend into his ******* the adults in extended family routinely want to inspect the abnormality Mom shows them sometimes Dad grows agitated and leaves room it is embarrassing for Odysseus Daddy Lou’s brother Uncle Maury wants to check it out too often like he thinks he is a doctor Uncle Maury is an optometrist the pediatrician theorizes the tangled ******* is possibly the result of a hormone fertility drug Mom took to get pregnant the doctor injects Odysseus with a hormone shot then prescribes several medications to induce the ****** to drop nothing works eventually an inguinal hernia is diagnosed around the age of 9 Odysseus is operated on for a hernia and the ******* surgically moved down into his ******* the doctor says ******* is dead warning of propensity to cancer later in life his left ball is smaller than his right but it is more sensitive and needy he does not understand what the doctor means by “dead” Odysseus fears he will be made fun of he is self-conscious in locker room he does not comprehend for the rest of his life he will carry a diminutive *****



spokin alloud by readar in caulkknee axescent ello we’re Biggie an Smally tha 2 testicles whoooh liv in tha ******* of this felloh Odys Biggie is the soyze of a elthy chicken aegg and Smally is the size of a modest Bing cheery



one breast ****** points northeast the other smaller breast ****** points southwest she is frightened to reveal them to any man frightened to be exposed in woman’s locker room she is the most beautiful girl/woman he will ever know



Bayli Moutray is French/Irish 5’8” lean elongated with bowed legs knobby knees runner’s calves slim hips boy’s shoulders sleepy blue eyes light brown hair a barely discernable freckled birthmark on back of neck and small unequal ******* with puffy ******* pointing in different directions Laura an ex-girlfriend of Odysseus’s describes Bayli’s appearance as “a gangly bird screeching to be fed” Laura can be mean Odysseus thinks Bayli is the coolest girl in the world he is genuinely in love with her they have been sleeping together for nearly a year it is March 11 1974 Bayli’s birthday she turns 22 today Bayli is away with her family in Southeast Asia Odysseus understands what a great opportunity this is for her to learn about another culture he knows Bayli plans to meet up again with him in late summer or autumn in Chicago Dad wants Odysseus to follow in his footsteps and become a successful jewelry salesman he offers Odysseus a well-paying job driving leased Camaro across the Midwest servicing Dad’s established costume jewelry accounts Odysseus reasons it is a chance to squirrel away some cash until Bayli returns it is lonely on the road and awkward adjustment to be back in Chicago Odysseus made other plans after graduating from Hartford Art School he is going to be an important painter after numerous months and many Midwestern cities he begins to feel depressed he questions how Bayli can stay away for so long when he needs her so bad the Moutray’s send Mom and Dad a gift of elegant pewter candleholders made in Indonesia Mom accustomed to silver and gold excludes pewter to be put on display she instructs Teresa to place the candleholders away in a cabinet Mom also neglects to write a thank you note which is quite out of character for Mom Bayli’s father is a Navy Captain in the Pacific he is summoned to Norfolk Naval Station in Virginia the Moutray’s flight has a stopover in Chicago Bayli writes her parents want to meet Odysseus and his family Odysseus asks Dad to arrange his traveling itinerary around the Moutray’s visit Dad schedules Odysseus to service the Detroit and Michigan territory against Odysseus’s pleas Odysseus is living with his sister Penelope on Briar Street it is the only address Bayli’s parents know Odysseus has no way to reach them when the Moutray’s arrive at the door Penelope does not know what to tell them Mom and Dad are not interested in meeting Bayli’s parents it is not the first sign of dissatisfaction or disinterest Mom and Dad convey regarding Bayli Odysseus does not understand why his parents do not like her is it because Bayli is not Jewish is that the sole reason Mom and Dad do not approve of her Odysseus believes he needs his parent’s support he knows he is not like them and will likely never adopt their standards yet he values their consent they are his parents and he honors Mom and Dad let’s take a step back for a moment to get a different perspective a more serious matter is Odysseus’s financial dependency on his parents does a commitment to Bayli threaten the sheltered world his parent’s provide him is it merely money binding him to them why else is he so powerless to his parent’s control outwardly he appears a wild child yet inwardly he is somewhat timid is he cowardly is he unsure of Bayli’s strength and sustainability is that why he let’s Bayli go whatever the reason Dad’s and Mom’s pressure and influence are strong enough to sway his judgment he goes along with their authority losing Bayli is the greatest mistake of Odysseus’s life



he dreams Bayli and he are at a Bob Dylan concert they are hidden in the back of the theater in a dark hall they can hear the band playing Dylan’s voice singing and the echoes of the mesmerized audience Odysseus is ******* Bayli’s body against a wall she is quietly moaning his hand is inside her jeans feeling her wetness rubbing fingers between her legs after the show they hang around an empty lot filled with broken bottles loose bricks they run into Dylan all 3 are laughing and dancing down the sidewalk Dylan is incredibly playful and engaging he says he needs to run an errand not wanting to leave his company Odysseus and Bayli follow along they arrive at an old hospital building it is dark and dingy inside there is a large room filled with medical beds and water tanks housing unspeakably disfigured people swarming intravenous tubes attach the patients to oxygen equipment feed bags and monitoring machines Dylan moves between each victim like a compassionate ambassador Odysseus is freaking out the infirmary is too horrible to imagine he shields his eyes wanders away losing Bayli searching running frantically for a way out he wakes shivering and sweating the pillow is wet sheets twisted he gets up from the bed stares out window into the dark night he wonders where he lost Bayli



these winds of change let them come sailor home from sea hunter home from hill he who can create the worst terror is the greatest warrior

colors matched the name of every saint
and i counted at least a baker's dozen as i fell down, at least thirteen

you cannot *** unless you follow the dentist's rules
nicotine and ******* blur the last twenty minutes

You ripped my heart out,
like the dentist ripped my tooth,
grinding at my plaque,
and cutting out my vein.
pick and flick every bit,
to make me shine again.

Tomorrow is the dentist,

I'm scared and that's the truth,

The last time that I had to go,

I left with just one tooth.

The sleeping teeth therapist episode 3


For the last two weeks, Ros was having arguments with Brian Worrell, who was a coca cola addict and he had loads of cavities with some teeth rotting away, and despite her boss considering the pill will work for Brian, Ros says that the teeth are pretty bad, his mum and dad, who he lived with were prepared to pay as much as they want to fix his teeth, but if Brian doesn't give up or cut down on Coke, there is not much that Ros can do, anyway she was starting to wonder what can she do, and then Brains came to her, and said he has the resources to fix every one of his teeth and keep doing so whether he gives up coke or not.
Ros wondered exactly how he can, baring in mind she still doesn't know how he does it, she just prescribes the pill, and she can't understand that, nor will her patients, and Brains said send Brian to me, I can fix his teeth and keep fixing them, and Ros said, mate, you haven't even seen them yet, you don't know if it will cure him, and Brains said, well,yeah, but when I was alive, I drank too much coke, maybe that is what killed me, I dunno, and it was me drinking Coke, was the reason that I had to be the skies official dentist, please send him to me.
So the next day, Ros went into work and her first patient was Brian, and she discussed the pill option with him, and Brian was saying he heard this on the TV, and yes, he will be willing to give this a try, it will be cool, he thought, and he took the pill home and when his parents first knew about this pill, they went over to Ros's surgery very angrily saying how can a pill do this and she argued with reception for 15 minutes before Ros came out to try and explain to Brian's mother, and of course she knew nothing about how this works and Ros figured that it sounded to unrealistic to tell the truth, and ended up saying, just trust me on this, it's his only option, his teeth are too rotten to save, and there are a lot chemicals in this pill, to work for your son, Brian, I am sorry, but Brian's teeth, really got really bad.
Brian's mother left the dentist very angrily, not really at Ros, cause it's not her fault that her son drinks too much coca cola, she really wants her son to try harder to look after his teeth more, because she believed in being healthy, the natural way, and it's hard to see a son who needs a stupid pill to completely clean his teeth.
When she got home she went into Brian's room and Brian was fast asleep, which was unusual, because he never sleeps during the day, but what happened was Brian took one tablet and at this moment Brains was operating on his teeth in the sky, this was hard to do, because when Ros explained it, she made it sound better than it actually was, and Brains had to ask Brian to take another pill, luckily the pill was by his bed, so his mum doesn't see him popping pills, and when he did that, Brains operated a bit more, and this was hard for him, but after 3 more pills later, Brains managed to fix Brian's mouth, but said these pills will make you drowsy, so don't rush out of bed to check them, you could fall, and we don't want your mum thinking your a drug addict, and Brian, if you don't want me to repeat this procedure, stop drinking Coca cola, because the amount of pills you had tonight, could **** you if you have them too many, I really made this pill just for people to have dental care, without the big bill, so I know that no ones perfect, but you shouldn't drink too much Coke.
Later that day, Brian woke up and had a look at his teeth, and by jingle by jangle by ******, his mouth was completely healed and when Brian showed his mum, she was a bit worried when he said he had to take 5 pills, but she liked the result, and then said to Brian, please give up Coke, and you might go back to Ros, and be healthy as you look after yourself,
Ros and Brains, started to enjoy their partnership, and Brains told Ros to make sure she explains the dangers of what drinking coke does to teeth, and Ros said it will be her pleasure as soon as she hung up on a very happy mother of Brian, yes another person's teeth was repaired by the sleeping teeth therapist.

in 2004, i was having weird delusions of me being left at the bottom of a volcano as a baby

which was a load of hogswollop,, because what really happened, in 1849, i finally entered

athena’s life as martha eleanora holiday who was born and died before the dentist doc holiday, who was athena

god of thunder, who later got a job as a dentist in st louis, but the protection of athena

over cronus, who is me 6 months after martha’s birth she died, so she can never meet athena on earth

she became a beautiful black bird from the year 1851 to 1855 and was shot by a poacher and laid to rest

and afterwards athena brought my soul away from america where doc holiday, who was athena

was battling to be a dentist and me, i was given protection from the old west, to become a aussie football star

in victoria and south australia, and i was left distraught because the holidays really loved me, and wanted

never to lose me, and the fact that athena was stopping itself from meeting cronus before blades of grass has been sewed

well, it could cause problems with the aura of the world, as i said, i need to know who athena is, because i am poor and mentally ill

and i had delusions of a young man who was doc holiday coming into my head, and yes doc was a bird lover and took my hand

when i was a blackbird and doc felt a bond between bird and man, as he held my hand, i know i was doing a play about a bird but

despite my weight problem, i did that very well, well, anyway athena got a poacher to **** me as a blackbird and force the city the holiday’s lived in

into complete chaos, what cronus was saying to athena through their earth bodies, we must save the world together and doc was really

starting to have a good school life becoming a dentist while the blackbird flew away to australia, where cronus became albert waldron

with a nick name of topsy, yopu see when doc explained this to his parents, they just said, visions of blackbirds in the air is very nice

mind you, i need to rid all of my delusions because at present the world is in the terrorist war and we are suffering from severe storms

but no matter how hard athena and cronus are working trying to save the world, it goes back to the 1850s in georgia, where doc was

a bird lover and i was a blackbird, who was looking out for her previous life’s younger brother and then athena forced a poacher to rid cronus

from the USA, in the days of the social media, you have to be careful in bringing crobus to athena, but at the end of the day, everyone dies

and caleb logan who was a star on youtube, died to get away from the world where cronus owns, you see caleb has been reborn, athena has been reborn

premature but safe, so athena and cronus can save the world by mending every blade of grass, that means peter sargent was athena,

yeah life wasn’t good back then, you see athena wants more people to protect their teeth and cronus has dentures, well, cronus is helping  the world

from the bottom, and athena is pushing herself down to help cronus

doc holiday is athena

martha holiday and the black bird and albert waldron is cronus

i am cronus, i as well as athena have been put on this earth to save the world

With eyes bled red by oozing tears
His sallow all-pleading visage wan
Weeps my grandson at the dentist's
Convinced the man is a dealer in pain
The little boy inside of me weeps too
What can I do, what must be must be
Each boy must find out for himself

I could put it into specifics by describing your toothpaste. No matter how recently you had bought it, that sorry tube was always a mangled mess. Twisted, creased, folded plastic or whatever it was, topped with a messy, half-open, broken-hinged, ineffective cap. Slathered with the blue-and-white residue of rushed mornings and tired nights. Exhausted. Does toothpaste try? It gets the job done, sure. But you probably waste half the toothpaste by destroying the tube like that.

You were like this with many things. Exhausted, a little bit crumpled and always partially wasted. Like toothpaste, I know you were always trying, and you nearly always succeeded at whatever you were doing, you were just often left with something not finished to your own standards. Dissatisfied with your own success. As I'm sure toothpaste is when you have a fine smile but still end up needing a filling again. Toothpaste does a good job, you must understand. We are just sometimes careless, and we sometimes don't have the time we need. We all still end up needing to schedule a dentist's appointment once in awhile.

Nobody likes the dentist. They’re bound to be good people, dentists, but I’ve never met anyone that doesn’t dread the dentist’s throne. Really, we’re supposed to avoid them - the whole goal is to never have reason to see the dentist, right? But we always do. For a regular check-up at least, if we can remember to book the appointment, as much as we may want to get out of it. Something that should be so easy to get out of, had you just brushed your teeth right all the time. So toothpaste is never as effective as you want it to be. But maybe that’s what makes it so satisfying - squeezing the life out of that tube, you can feel like you have power over the inevitable. That’s what you wanted.

there was a great big crocodile he was going mad
he had developed tooth ache his tooth was going bad
he went to the dentist he said open wide
he looked at his teeth with his head inside
the crocodile he coughed and swallowed dentist whole
his toothache was still there the poor little soul
the crocodile gave up and put up with pain
and as for a dentist he never went there again

Bouazizi’s heavy eyelids parted as the Muezzin recited the final call for the first Adhan of the day.

“As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm”
Prayer is better than sleep

Rising from the torment of another restless night, Bouazizi wiped the sleep from his droopy eyes as his feet touched the cold stone floor.

Throughout the frigid night, the devilish jinn did their work, eagerly jabbing away at Bouazizi with pointed sticks, tormenting his troubled conscience with the worry of his nagging indebtedness. All night the face of the man Bouazizi owed money to haunted him. Bouazizi could see the man’s greasy lips and brown teeth jawing away, inches from his face. He imagined chubby caffeine stained fingers reaching toward him to grab some dinars from Bouazizi’s money box.

Bouazizi turned all night like he was sleeping on a board of spikes. His prayers for a restful night again went unanswered. The pall of a blue fatigue would shadow Bouazizi for most of the day.

Bouazizi’s weariness was compounded by a gnawing hunger. By force of habit, he grudgingly opened the food cupboard with the foreknowledge that it was almost bare. Bouazizi’s premonition proved correct as he surveyed a meager handful of chickpeas, some eggs and a few sparse loaves. It was just enough to feed his dependant family; younger brothers and sisters, cousins and a terminally disabled uncle. That left nothing for Bouazizi but a quick jab to his empty gut. He would start this day without breakfast.

Bouazizi made a living as a street vendor. He hustles to survive. Bouazizi’s father died in a construction accident in Libya when he was three. Since the age of 10, Bouazizi had pushed a cart through the streets of Sidi Bouzid; selling fruit at the public market just a few blocks from the home that he has lived in for almost his entire life.

At 27 years of age, Bouazizi has wrestled the beast of deprivation since his birth. To date, he has bravely fought it to a standstill; but day after day the multi-headed hydra of life has snapped at him. He has squarely met the eyes of the beast with fortitude and resolve; but the sharp fangs of a hardscrabble life has sunken deep into Bouazizi’s spleen. The unjust rules of society are powerful claws that slash away at his flesh, bleeding him dry: while the spiked tendrils of poverty wrap Bouazizi’s neck, seeking to strangle him.

Bouazizi is a workingman hero; a skilled warrior in the fight for daily bread. He is accustomed to living a life of scarcity. His daily deliverance is the grace of another day of labor and the blessed wages of subsistence.

Though Allah has blessed this man with fortitude the acuteness of terminal want and the constant struggle to survive has its limits for any man; even for strong champions like Bouazizi.

This morning as Bouazizi washed he peered into a mirror, closely examining new wrinkles on his stubble strewn face. He fingered his deep black curls dashed with growing streaks of gray. He studied them through the gaze of heavy bloodshot eyes. He looked upward as if to implore Allah to salve the bruises of daily life.

Bouazizi braced himself with the splash of a cold water slap to his face. He wiped his cheeks clean with the tail of his shirt. He dipped his toothbrush into a box of baking powder and scoured an aching back molar in need of a root canal. Bouazizi should see a dentist but it is a luxury he cannot afford so he packed an aspirin on top of the infected tooth. The dissolving aspirin invaded his mouth coating his tongue with a bitter effervescence.

Bouazizi liked the taste and was grateful for the expectation of a dulled pain. He smiled into the mirror to check his chipped front tooth while pinching a cigarette **** from an ashtray. The roach had one hit left in it. He lit it with a long hard drag that consumed a good part of the filter. Bouazizi’s first smoke of the day was more filter then tobacco but it shocked his lungs into the coughing flow of another day.

Bouazizi put on his jacket, slipped into his knockoff NB sneakers and reached for a green apple on a nearby table. He took a big bite and began to chew away the pain of his toothache.

Bouazizi stepped into the street to catch the sun rising over the rooftops. He believed that seeing the sunrise was a good omen that augured well for that day’s business. A sunbeam braking over a far distant wall bathed Bouazizi in a golden light and illumined the alley where he parked his cart holding his remaining stock of week old apples. He lifted the handles and backed his cart out into the street being extra mindful of the cracks in the cobblestone road. Bouazizi sprained his ankle a week ago and it was still tender. Bouazizi had to be careful not to aggravate it with a careless step. Having successfully navigated his cart into the road, Bouazizi made a skillful U Turn and headed up the street limping toward the market.

A winter chill gripped Bouazizi prompting him to zip his jacket up to his neck. The zipper pinched his Adam’s Apple and a few droplets of blood stained his green corduroy jacket. Though it was cold, Bouazizi sensed that spring would arrive early this year triggering a replay of a recurring daydream. Bouazizi imagined himself behind the wheel of a new van on his way to the market. Fresh air and sunshine pouring through the open windows with the cargo space overflowing with fresh vegetables and fruits.

It was a lifelong ambition of Bouazizi to own a van. He dreamed of buying a six cylinder Dodge Caravan. It would be painted red and he would call it The Red Flame. The Red Flame would be fast and powerful and sport chrome spinners. The Red Flame would be filled with music from a Blaupunkt sound system with kick *** speakers. Power windows, air conditioning, leather seats, a moonroof and plenty of space in the back for his produce would complete Bouazizi’s ride.

The Red Flame would be the vehicle Bouazizi required to expand his business beyond the market square. Bouazizi would sell his produce out of the back of the van, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood. No longer would he have to wait for customers to come to his stand in the market. Bouazizi would go to his customers. Bouazizi and the Red Flame would be known in all the neighborhoods throughout the district. Bouazizi shook his head and smiled thinking about all the girls who would like to take rides in the Red Flame. Bouazizi and his Red Flame would be a sight to be noticed and a force to be reckoned with.

“EEEEEYOWWW” a Mercedes horn angrily honked; jarring Bouazizi from the reverie of his daydream. A guy whipping around the corner like a silver streak stuck his head out the window blasting with music yelling, “Hey Mnayek, watch where you push that *******.”

The music faded as the Mercedes roared away. “Barra nikk okhtek” Bouazizi yelled, raising his ******* in the direction of the vanished car. “The big guys in the fancy cars think the road belongs to them”, Bouazizi mumbled to himself.

The insult ****** Bouazizi off, but he was accustomed to them and as he limped along pushing his cart he distracted himself with the amusement of the ascending sun chasing the fleeting shadows of the night, sending them scurrying down narrow alleyways.

Bouazizi imaged himself a character from his favorite movie. He was a giant Transformer, chasing the black shadows of evil away from the city into the desert. After battling evil and conquering the bad guys, he would transform himself back into the regular Bouazizi; selling his produce to the people as he patrolled the highways of Tunisia in the Red Flame, the music blasting out the windows, the chrome spinners flashing in the sunlight. Bouazizi would remain vigilant, always ready to transform the Red Flame to fight the evil doers.

The bumps and potholes in the road jostled Bouazizi’s load of apples. A few fell out of the wooden baskets and were rolling around in the open spaces of the cart. Bouazizi didn’t want to risk bruising them. Damaged merchandise can’t be sold so he was careful to secure his goods and arrange his cart to appeal to women customers. He made sure to display his prized electronic scale in the corner of the cart for all to see.

Bouazizi had a reputation as a fair and generous dealer who always gave good value to his customers. Bouazizi was also known for his kindness. He would give apples to hungry children and families who could not pay. Bouazizi knew the pain of hunger and it brought him great satisfaction to be able to alleviate it in others.

As a man who valued fairness, Bouazizi was particularly proud of his electronic scale. Bouazizi was certain the new measuring device assured all customers that Bouazizi sold just and correct portions. The electronic scale was Bouazizi’s shining lamp. He trusted it. He hung it from the corner post of his cart like it was the beacon of a lighthouse guiding shoppers through the treachery of an unscrupulous market. It would attract all customers who valued fairness to the safe harbor of Bouazizi’s cart.

The electronic scale is Bouazizi’s assurance to his customers that the weights and measures of electronic calculation layed beyond any cloud of doubt. It is a fair, impartial and objective arbiter for any dispute.

Bouazizi believed that the fairness of his scale would distinguish his stand from other produce vendors. Though its purchase put Bouazizi into deep debt, the scale was a source of pride for Bouazizi who believed that it would help his profits to increase and help him to achieve his goal of buying the Red Flame.

As Bouazizi pushed his cart toward the market, he mulled his plan over in his mind for the millionth time. He wasn't great in math but he was able to calculate his financial situation with a degree of precision. His estimations triggered worries that his growing debt to money lenders may be difficult to payoff.

Indebtedness pressed down on Bouazizi’s chest like a mounting pile of stones. It was the source of an ever present fear coercing Bouazizi to live in a constant state of anxiety. His business needed to grow for Bouazizi to get a measure of relief and ultimately prosper from all his hard work. Bouazizi was driven by urgency.

The morning roil of the street was coming alive. Bouazizi quickened his step to secure a good location for his cart at the market. Car horns, the spewing diesel from clunking trucks, the flatulent roar of accelerating buses mixed with the laughs and shrieks of children heading to school composed the rising crescendo of the city square.

As he pushed through the market, Bouazizi inhaled the aromatic eddies of roasting coffee floating on the air. It was a pleasantry Bouazizi looked forward to each morning. The delicious wafts of coffee mingling with the crisp aroma of baking bread instigated a growl from Bouazizi’s empty stomach. He needed to get something to eat. After he got money from his first sale he would by a coffee and some fried dough.

Activity in the market was vigorous, punctuated by the usual arguments of petty territorial disputes between vendors. The disagreements were always amicably resolved, burned away in rising billows of roasting meats and vegetables, the exchange of cigarettes and the plumes of tobacco smoke rising as emanations of peace.

Bouazizi skillfully maneuvered his cart through the market commotion. He slid into his usual space between Aaban and Aameen. His good friend Aaban sold candles, incense, oils and sometimes his wife would make cakes to sell. Aameen was the markets most notorious jokester. He sold hardware and just about anything else he could get his hands on.

Aaban was already burning a few sticks of jasmine incense. It helped to attract customers. The aroma defined the immediate space with the pleasant bouquet of a spring garden. Bouazizi liked the smell and appreciated the increased traffic it brought to his apple cart.

“Hey Basboosa#, do you have any cigarettes?“, Aameen asked as he pulled out a lighter. Bouazizi shook the tip of a Kent from an almost empty pack. Aameen grabbed the cigarette with his lips.

“That's three cartons of Kents you owe me, you cheap *******.” Bouazizi answered half jokingly. Aameen mumbled a laugh through a grin tightly gripping the **** as he exhaled smoke from his nose like a fire breathing dragon. Bouazizi also took out a cigarette for himself.

“Aameem, give me a light”, Bouazizi asked.

Aameen tossed him the lighter.

“Keep it Basboosa. I got others.” Aameen smiled as he showed off a newly opened box of disposable lighters to sell on his stand.

“Made in China, Basboosa. They make everything cheap and colorful. I can make some money with these.”

Bouazizi lit his next to last cigarette. He inhaled deeply. The smoke chased away the cool air in Bouazizi’s lungs with a shot of a hot nicotine rush.

“Merci Aameen” Bouazizi answered. He put the lighter into the almost empty cigarette pack and put it into his hip pocket. The lighter would protect his last cigarette from being crushed.

The laughter and shouts of the bazaar, the harangue of radio voices shouting anxious verses of Imam’s exhorting the masses to submit and the piecing ramble of nondescript AM music flinging piercing unintelligible static surrounded Bouazizi and his cart as he waited for his first customers of the day.

Bouazizi sensed a nervous commotion rise along the line of vendors. A crowd of tourists and locals milling about parted as if to avoid a slithering asp making its way through their midst. The hoots of vendors and the cackle of the crowd made its way to Bouazizi’s knowing ear. He knew what was coming. It was nothing more then another shakedown by city officials acting as bagmen for petty municipal bureaucrats. They claim to be checking vendor licences but they’re just making the rounds collecting protection money from the vendors. Pocketing bribes and payoffs is the municipal authorities idea of good government. They are skilled at using the power of their office to extort tribute from the working poor.

Bouazizi made the mistake of making eye contact with Madame Hamdi. As the municipal authority in charge of vendors and taxis Madame Hamdi held sway over the lives of the street vendors. She relished the power she had over the men who make a meager living selling goods in the square; and this morning she was moving through the market like a bloodhound hot on the trail of an escaped convict. Two burly henchmen lead the way before her. Bouazizi knew Madame Hamdi’s hounds were coming for him.

Bouazizi knew he was ******. Having just made a payment to his money lender, Bouazizi had no extra dinars to grease the palm of Madame Hamdi. He grabbed the handle bars of his cart to make an escape; but Madame Hamdi cut him off and got right into into Bouazizi’s face.

“Ah little Basboosa where are you going? she asked with the tone of playful contempt.

“I suppose you still have no license to sell, ah Basboosa?” Madame Hamdi questioned with the air of a soulless inquisitor.

“You know Madame Hamdi, cart vendors do not need a license.” Bouazizi feebly protested, not daring to look into her eyes.

“Basboosa, you know we can overlook your violations with a small fine for your laxity” a dismissive Madame Hamdi offered.

Bouazizi’s sense of guilt would not permit him to lift his eyes. His head remained bowed. Bouazizi stood convicted of being one of the impoverished.

“I have no spare dinars to offer Madame Hamdi, My pockets are empty, full of holes. My money falls into everyone’s palm but my own. I’m sorry Madame Hamdi. I’ll take my cart home”. He lifted the handlebars in an attempt to escape. One of Madame Hamdi’s henchmen stepped in front of his cart while the other pushed Bouazizi away from it.

“Either you pay me a vendor tax for a license or I will confiscate your goods Basboosa”, Madame Hamdi warned as she lifted Bouazizi’s scale off its hook.

“This will be the first to go”, she said grinning as she examined the scale. “We’ll just keep this.”
Like a mother lion protecting a defenseless cub from the snapping jaws of a pack of ravenous hyenas, Bouazizi lunged to retrieve his prized scale from the clutches of Madame Hamdi. Reaching for it, he touched the scale with his fingertips just as Madame Hamdi delivered a vicious slap to Bouazizi’s cheek. It halted him like a thunderbolt from Zeus.

A henchman overturned Bouazizi’s cart, scatter

Just the thought of losing your teeth, can become a menace. There is no feeling like the pain you experience, after going to the Dentist.
They pick and probe all through your mouth, up and down your gum.  Once he puts the drill in his hands, all you could do is run.
I dare not speak about the root canal, to get beneath your teeth.  This will send chills down your spine, flowing right through your feet.
What about the very bright lights, blinding both your eyes?  You begin to see red spots, in every size.
Once everything is said and done; you have to face the bill.  Just like the annoying drill, I feel a chill.
By, Sandra J. Nailing

“Mr Pyre, come on through.”
“Pop your bottom in my chair.”
“Open wide, please Mr Pyre”
Mr Pyre shaking, quaking in his ***** boots.
Couldn’t bear the dentist.
Was so very scared.
Nurse pops on his cape.
So no dribble spilled.
Mr Pyre, the frightened patient.
Wasn’t very thrilled.
Dentist stuck his mirror in poor Mr Pyre’s mouth.
Sees nothing.
Shocked as no reflection seen.
Very discreet.
All knowing grin.

Working with vampires never ideal.
As Mr Pyre’s teeth they grew.
Leaped out of the chair.
Thought he’d have an early lunch.
Dentist was no more.
For lunch, Mr Pyre munched his dental man.
Ate the nurse, receptionist too.
Extracted his cape of plastic.
Restored his own.
Being a vampire, such a curse!
Then from the surgery he flew.

By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)


By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

When I grow up, I want to be a dentist
Astronaut or mage apprentice.  
I want to be a dancer, an artist, a king.
I'm hoping to stand on a stage and sing.
When I grow up, I want to be a lawyer,
Or have lead role in the play Tom Sawyer.
I'll be a comedian, and make people laugh!
Or the CEO with a thousand staff.
I'll be a waitress, a teacher, a vet.
Snow White's eighth dwarf that no one has met!
I might be a chef, or a scientist.
How about architect or alchemist?
When I grow up, I'll be a song writer
Or maybe your friendly, next-door firefighter.
I'll be a technician or pharmacy worker,
A fashion designer or New York stock broker.
I'm gonna be everything, just you wait and see!
But I think in the end I'm just gonna be me.

Stick a lolipop
into the mouth of moments
your life is a child
and somewhere in there
you give a flying ****
about the moon
and no it's not cheese.
That mouth knows what dirt tastes like
but that wont stop me from pouring caramel
and cigarettes over it.
I need a fix
of candied dirt
and addiction.
I'm not afraid of the eclipse
because I'm already hooked on the dark.
So lock the door
&
draw the curtains
&
be content.

The tide wont be knocking
no matter how much you
want it to fill the room
or how big is your sweet tooth
because
hunger
is BIGGER
and eventually
anything will do.
So thank the moon we were wearing seat belts.
Otherwise we might be vegetables
eating only exhaust
like Hiroshima
force fed the sun
because
you only make war on an empty stomach
or with an insatiable hunger.

Be content

for the civilians and their children
who only know the taste of war.
Idiot flavored idiots with a hint of
dead mothers
that will bore a cavity so big
it'll put holes in the head
of kindergardens everywhere.
Who write their valentines on bombs.
Who's love murders buildings,
topples families,
plowing through bodies on city streets all to reach
nobody.

Be content

for the people
who aren't
you because when parents ******* in a box
you call a country means
you don't care
you put genocide on the menu
and there are some things that just wont do.
As I grow weary of rivaling chefs pointing fingers
in circles forever
becoming a porthole to the ****** business
becoming the unsuspecting manhole for
the human animal's existence

in crossing.

Mothers may find safe shelter in the sewers
but it reeks of prepackaged liberty
express delivery
to
every where.

Be content.

Because to start a revolution means living it
and what better way,
to ******* a reckless pace
that finishes first in hunger,
starting fist fights with other people's lives
and forgets even sooner,
than
to
be
content.

Oh boy,
I counted.
Four teeth to fill.
This is gonna be
Painful.

I believe in smiling at strangers. I believe in saying hello. I believe in shyness. I believe in fear of rejection. I believe in the need of affection. I believe in the need of reminders. I believe in candles, especially those that smell of vanilla or christmas. I believe in wearing small crystals around my neck. I believe in energetic vibrations. I believe in colours - I think each person has their own colour. I believe every feeling is valid. I believe in chapstick and I believe in mascara that doesn’t clump. I believe in nail polish - every colour of nail polish. I believe that the only reason we lie is because we fear something. I believe in poetry. I believe in bluntness. I believe in the intention behind words, but I don’t necessarily believe in words. I believe in travel. I believe in travelling solo. In fact, I believe in travelling so much that it is pretty much all I want to do. I believe in music. Boy, do I believe in music. I believe any kind of musical composition can change a person. I believe music can cure depression. I also believe music can feed depression. I believe a melody can say more than lyrics and I believe that lyrics can be what someone couldn’t put together themselves to explain exactly how they are feeling. I believe anyone can create a song, even though they believe they cannot. I believe a single note can sound like the most beautiful sound in the world. I believe if someone records a song when they’re in an ugly mood, the ugliness emits to its listeners and can drain them. I believe in art. Of course I do. I believe in acrylic paint. I believe in oil paint and watercolours, but not as much as I believe in acrylic. I believe in fingerprinting. I even believe in painting with your toes. And I believe in dancing; even if it looks weird. I believe in flailing your arms even, as long as it feels good and right. I believe in dancing ‘til you sweat, though I don’t like that icky feeling too much. I believe that a babe can be a very ugly person and a physically unattractive person can be a very beautiful person. I believe that people who smile are beautiful. I believe that people who frown are beautiful too, just in a different way. I believe that there are sincere smiles and there are manipulative smiles. I believe that some people just know how to use their eyes well. I believe in eye contact. I believe in engaging. I believe in listening and dropping everything else that is going on in your mind just to listen to what a person is trying to share with you. I believe in sharing - sharing cookies and sharing love. I believe in the frosty cold. I believe that it doesn’t have to feel as cold as it really is. I believe that people complain a lot. I believe that people often have too much pride to be happy. I believe that we should embrace our discomforts and shames, that we should welcome them wholeheartedly so that we can be happy. I believe in honesty. I believe in empathy. I believe in tea. I believe in jelly donuts but only on certain occasions. I believe in quirky bow ties. I believe in knit toques and mittens and scarves. I believe in dresses. I believe in flirting. I believe in coffee in the morning. I believe in big comfy beds. I believe in walking around your empty house in your underwear or birthday suit, singing loudly. I believe in singing in the shower. I believe in singing on the street. I believe in stage fright. I believe in meditation, though I don’t really strictly set times to do it anymore. I believe mundane activities can be done in a meditative state of mind. I believe in clarity. I believe in not judging people because everyone is human. I believe every human has something very interesting about them. I believe in boring people too. I believe in christmas music - not the radio kind, the choral kind. I believe in cheap sweet wine. I believe in Billy Joel and I believe in The Beatles. I believe in Regina and Sufjan too. I believe that the ukulele is a very overrated instrument. I believe in having healthy hair. I believe in moisturizer. I believe in getting to pick a coloured toothbrush at the dentist. I believe in thick wool socks. I believe in baggy sweaters. I believe in yoga gear but I do not believe in sweatpants. I believe that yoga is one of the healthiest things for a person - ever. I believe in buying a friend drinks or dinner once in awhile. I believe in collecting shoes and scarves and rings. I believe in chords but I don’t really believe in jeans. I believe in hot chocolate with whip cream but not with marshmallows. I believe in dorky Christmas sweaters. I believe in baking cookies instead of cake. I believe in eating disorders - I do not support them, but I do believe they are much more severe and various than most people think and I believe there should be better/proper help for those who suffer instead of the usual cruel inpatient/outpatient care. I believe in trichotillomania and I believe in dermatillomania and the severity and impact it can have on its sufferers. I believe in gardens. I believe in every single flower. I believe that everyone is always doing their best. I believe that most people love to struggle. I believe in hope. I believe in having faith in yourself. I believe in iPod playlists. I believe in gym memberships in the winter, not the summer unless it’s to swim. I believe in matching underwear every day. I believe in Value Village. I believe in singing in bus shelters when you’re waiting for the bus. I believe in dressing up according to holidays. I believe in Grey’s Anatomy and I believe in Community. I believe in skirts and dresses that twirl like the ‘ol days. I believe in longboards more than skateboards. I believe in plaid like most young people do. I believe in bows in my hair, but not as much as I used to. I believe in foot massages and hand massages. I believe in reflexology and reiki and essential oils and chakras and crystals and holistic nutrition. I believe in anxiety; even crippling anxiety. I believe in awkward romances. I do not believe in flip flops. I do not believe in Beatles covers unless they are really insanely good; then my mind is blown. I believe in having long enough nails to scratch someone’s back appropriately. I also believe in biting nails. I do not believe in telephone calls unless I am extremely comfortable with the person. I believe in blogs. I believe in journals. I believe in naming special inanimate objects like journals, instruments, technology and furniture. I believe in the idea of cats more than I believe in cats. I believe in sharpies or thin pointed permanent markers. I believe in temporary tattoos. I believe in streaming movies online. I believe in royal gala apples. I believe in avocados. I believe in rice cakes. I believe in popcorn. I believe in airports but I hate the LA airport. I believe in openly talking about *** but I don’t believe in making it seem shameful and gross. I believe there should be no shame regarding sexuality. I believe in reading some great books more than once. I believe in laying on the couch under cozy blankets, watching a great suspenseful tv show or movie. I only believe in having a couple bites of cheesecake. I don’t really believe in lulu lemon. I don’t believe many people can pull off the colour yellow. I believe in buttons over zippers even though zippers are easier, they just look kind of dumb and cheap. I believe in the sun and the moon equally. I believe in closets over dressers. I believe in staring out the window for a good hour or so.

Gripping ***** locks
knotted to his scalp,
she kicks him to the road.
Glass bottle bits scrabbling
under his fingernails;
he yelps, dragging away.

Their pressed flower daughter
clings to the soot-stained wall.

She tiptoes his nape
into the pavement,
drawing a gag and gurgle
bubbling out of his throat.
******* pull his nose,
resting his teeth on the curb.

An incisor plinks to the girl’s feet.
She hugs it as close as a home.

A Dentist from Weehawken was feeling miserably;
Depressed, down in the mouth, you know how that can be.
Walt thought salt air would do him good and so he went to sea.
He chartered a large fishing boat and paid a hefty fee.
They set a course for Georges Bank where clam and cod abound.
For centuries this place has been a fertile fishing ground.
With bated breath and baited hook, Walter set his line.
He’d catch some rays and have some beers and have a real good time.
But Fate had other plans for him, things took a darker turn.
Those who fish for sport, not food, are beasts as he’d soon learn.
A tug upon his line foretold the battle to take place
It nearly pulled him from his chair and so began the chase.
What monster he had on his line, the dentist didn’t know.
He played the creature skillfully as it thrashed to and fro.
The massive tuna breached the waves and landed with a splat,
It wore coke bottle glasses and a red Greek fishing hat.
Walt, the dentist, looked upon his catch and was aghast
As “Charlie, the Star-Kist tuna, gasped and breathed his last.
The dentist took a “selfie” that was seen the world around.
Charlie, the Tuna with good taste, had been brought to ground.
“Perhaps I’ll mount him on my wall” Walt said thoughtlessly.
Little did he know what this would cost him personally.

These days Walt is in hiding in his Northern Jersey town.
His patients have all left him and he closed his office down.
His car has four slashed tires, there’s graffiti on his walls.
He can’t even go on Facebook, he’s been unfriended by them all.
So if you are a hunter who wants to **** a hippopotamus,
before you shoot be sure to check and see if he's anonymous!

Western dental trys to be gentle.
By acting sentimental.
I am too judgmental.
It's just coincidental.
My teeth are not expertimental.
That's typical.
What's the hype?
It's all stereotype.
Don't just let me laugh on your behalf.
Your dental staff isn't worth half.
See I will make a graph.
Your payroll is down the hole.
Try to focus & maintain control of your objective goal.
Your career is over this year.
I am.
Sincere is that all you fear?

I went to the dentist -
reluctantly, definitely -
and I closed my eyes and
I felt metal against my teeth
as the dentist probed my mouth
and then I heard his words:
"Oh what a deep cavity...
Deep cavity...
Deep cavity"

And I said timidly:
"Come on, doctor...you needn't repeat
those words - I'm frightened enough
just coming here"

"I wasn't repeating,"
said the dentist
precise  in his words
*"Those were echoes you heard"

I know a lady dentist
Whose touch is not as sweet as her smile
She seems really nice
But not with those tools in her hand

It will take just a minute she says
But the pain that follows lasts for days
The whirr of the drill
Sends me down the proverbial hill

The shades of whites and blues
Puts the frenzy on cue
Not even her soothing words
Can make the pain less worse

Whenever I have to eat a candy or sweet
I stop to consider which is meet
The pains I can hardly bear
Or the lady dentist's smile so dear

She saw a dentist who was a sadist thru and thru.
Looks bad, he said, shall we see what I can do?
With a tremble in her voice she asked, will it hurt?
Maybe so, he grinned, but only if I wannit to.