If you’ve only ever smelled fir trees covered with freshly fallen snow-
then you haven’t smelled it.
It’s an acquired smell, for sure.
It comes just in between the whiffs of
hell, mashed ginger-ale for all I know. . .
Somewhere amongst that microwaved menagerie, masked with the smell of eau de toilette,
it lives, and smells sweeter the longer brown sugar bubbles on top of caramelizing yams.
If you can’t smell it, maybe you can find it.
Not many can, or do.
It hides in plain sight, though.
A lost and found box with accumulated cobwebs - everything still unclaimed.
A flyer for free puppies that no one ever took because they were “too much responsibility.”
Maybe there aren’t enough seekers in this game of empty rooms and blank guest books.
But keep looking, until bingo prize hand-me-downs after school plays look like Oscars.
You won’t see it until it makes you believe that plastic Mardis Gras beads are Tiffany-blue boxes.
It’s not so much in the nose, or the eyes as it is in the endurance.
Endure the voiceless Glenn Miller until his brass bellows become her voice -
whispering “I love you” to the effortless rhythm of “Moonlight Serenade.”
And imagine her,
swapping her orthopedics for black heels,
elegantly taking Pop’s hand as he helps her up from her wheelchair,
to join him for just one more dance.
Watch as they become the sepia-colored couple in every anniversary photo.
That black dress. Those fake pearls.
The crescendo of the band.
It’s hard to miss when it’s screaming at you.
valley mountains high,
cattle there to serve us,
rugged men are men,
sheep are very nervous,
megan's dentures in a jar,
pug face snoring porker,
drove llambo to his wellies,
the mountain mutton stalker.
valley commandos camouflage dress,
headband, wellies, wooly string vest,
llambo llewellyn up to the test,
heads for the hills searching his quest.
english may laugh,
and label us sinners,
while we shag sheep,
they eat them for dinners.
"I should," just sounds off,
like dentures biting into a bar of toffee.
Daydreams as sipping some froth,
out of your morning coffee.
Flying otters and mechanical beasts,
welcome to the rejection hotline over imaginary vibration.
Ice cream sandwiches and mushroom burger feasts,
a day does try some patience.
Red and blue smurf battles,
on blank and empty computer vision screens.
Nerves like snake rattles,
and nothing but imaginings.
Aluminum foil teeth
Enamel and taste bud bayonets
Molars initiate waging war
On the soft pink left cheek
Gnawing away radiated flesh
Sawing off earlobes and toes
Eating through layers of rotten blood and regret
Metal dentures cut at the gums
Tonguing out iron spit
Cigarette smoke whispers, writhing
Silently it tendrils up
From the glowing end in spirals
Pirouettes to cancers' cup.
Nicotine stained fingers tremble
Wrinkled, thin, arthritic claw,
Lips of carmine part to reveal
Yellow dentures gilding jaw.
Bacon breath of sour demeanor
Vacant eyes reflecting strain,
Hacking coughing greeting morning
Light another, kill the pain.
Silently the reaper beckons
Cavernous his grinning maw,
Welcoming the souls entrapped
In stultifying black tar gore.
14 September 2010
A legendary sweet tooth, had Lady Felicity Barratt
So swift towards the sugar bowl, so wary of the carrot
She dined on only trifle from a honey coated spoon
But tooth decay accosted her and left her in a swoon
By the time she turned just twenty, her two front teeth were gone
By thirty she was running short and on her final one
When that fell out, she sought a dentist, promptly one arrived
She opened up her grizzly mouth and in the fella dived
He took a cast and took his leave with dentures to be hewn
With satisfaction guaranteed by Friday afternoon
And never did the lady have a reason to suspect
The secret intervention of an evil dental sect
By bribing several bakeries and sweetie shops and stalls
A dossier had been compiled within their sacred halls
For crimes against good dentistry were nothing short of sin
Their retribution must be swift or people might join in
Upon that self same Friday, at the very cusp of noon
One Doctor Bingo Rogers and his burly hired goon
Came knocking at her premises with dental kit and drills
With a mission to sedate her and to exercise their skills
They knocked her out with ethanol and chloroform and air
And strapped her to a hastily erected dentist's chair
The evil teeth were lodged in place and screwed into her gums
The bill was quite extortionate, for monumental sums
The shamanic orthodontist, with his henchman in his wake
A martyr to the vegetable and nemesis of cake
Was keen to see his handiwork and kept a watchful eye
For curious occurrences as days went quickly by
By Christmas there was nothing, until on New Year's Eve
Her teeth got uncooperative and forced the girl to leave
They dragged her by her dainty face and led her to the shops
She stood and munched on sugar canes and giant lollipops
They stuffed her face with chocolates, still nestled in their packets
And then a rack of nylon shirts and seven leather jackets
On every size of shoe, she munched; from sixes up to twelves
She nibbled through the party food and gnawed upon the shelves
Then off she sped, into the street, to pursue a passing horse
Dragged along by wicked teeth and supernatural force
But dentures lack in vision, and especially at pace
So when she caught it by the foot she caught it in the face
She skidded to a grizzly halt with arms and legs all twisted
And next to her, a note with all her dental errors listed
So beware the wrath of dentists and obey when they command
And sleep with one eye open and a carrot close to hand
For though our poor Felicity was buried good and hard
Despite floral cupcake with the Dental Cult's regard
And though her body, to this day, lies safely in the ground
The horse escaped that evening and the teeth were never found...
A Monarch butterfly
accidentally flew into the dark corner bar
of a dying neighborhood
where the lifeless ones sit
on hard-assed stools
like the wax fortune teller
from her box in the boardwalk arcade.
The butterfly flew
into the poisoned air
of drunks and louts,
and it was a nightmare to them.
They waved their arms around their heads,
rattled their dentures
at this creature of light,
as if it were a bat from hell
that came for their very blood.
The bartender chased it out
with a broom
like a chivalry for the dead.
After it had flown out
the barroom door,
it recovered the sunlight
and its butterfly g.p.s.
began "recalculating, recalculating"
its way to Mexico.
The drunks settled back into
their dark cavern routine.
Now, they could get back
to peacefully dying,
without the fluttering annoyance
of that creature's wings
like someone talking too fast and loud,
some freakin' alien hopeful thing.
always gave them a headache.
This song ended like a dry heave halleluja
Like the auction caller ran out of breath
Like we both had nothing to sell and nothing to say
And I've been waiting fo that gasp
So this song can come back.
Been adding gunpowder and tobacco leaves to my coffee
For voice like the earth
To sing a song written like dust kicked up in the ways we walk away
In dirt brown cursive
And choke on your harmonica inhale
You left me speechless
With the things you said to me
Your rusty bear trap dentures gnashing
Spitting out the venom
you sucked from your own wounds
Your music tastes bad when it's lost it's tune
When Captain Morgan set your soul to sea
Poppin' pain killers because the pain aint free
And momma's got a new song now
Long after the men have left to the stairs to smoke
And the women wait with them to be walked to their cars
You sit on your piano alone
Warped wreckord throat
A song all slurs
I leave with the men too
And it's just you
In your tiny room
The door slowly closes behind me
and your song is cut short
And I catch myself singing along in the silence
I'm out of tune