"febreeze" poems
There just isn't enough febreeze
to rid the room of the haze
Of a dog **** strong and silent
It kind of puts you in a daze
It kind of sneaks in, then it hits you
An olfactory h-bomb in your face
Meanwhile, he just lies there
He's wiped the room with **** mace
There is no middle ground here
They always smell like something died
Like he caught a squirrel in the garden
Now, it's rotting his insides
Dog farts, are a weapon
That our army has not used
In fact I told them in a letter
In their reply, they were amused
"We've tried to duplicate it"
"A killer weapon... stops the heart"
"But, our scientists just aren't able"
"To reproduce a strong dog ****
"Thank you for your consideration"
"We'll let you know, if we succeed"
"We agree with your kind letter"
"dog farts escape and then they breed"
Sometimes when a dog farts
It makes a noise, he turns around
"my god, I smell incredible"
is the look comes from my hound
So, if you've never smelled a dog ****
And your dog just sneaks one out
Do yourself a favour
Do not feed him brussel sprouts.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
i want to get to know you.
i remember thinking that when i first met you.
i wanted to get to know everything about you.
what you look like in the morning, what you look like at night, what your hair is like if you jokingly put it up in a towel, what your family is like, what words you use a lot.
what your favorite scent of febreeze is, what color you describe the sky as, what you think of when you see something beautiful.
what your favorite creamer is to put into your coffee or if you even like coffee, what you look like at 2am when you're feeling alone.
how you speak when you are angry in comparison to when you are sad (so i will never get the two mixed up), what you want as a tattoo, what you believe in.
i wanted to know everything that i could fall in love with.
and i learned that there is no one else i would rather know, than you.
because absolutely everything about you is intriguing, from what you look like in the morning to what you dare to believe in.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
Magic is in the air
When the delight spreads
But even then,
Febreeze doesn't do all it says.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
You’re the reason for my favorite poem,
why I buy extra-strength whitening toothpaste,
the best part of Mondays.
You’re a showtune in the shower,
my pre-slumber what-if,
and also the best part of Tuesdays.
I worry that you notice
when my shoes smell bad
so I bought the expensive kind of Febreeze.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Smell the air; he fails.
His mother will be home.
Scrape burnt chocolate into the trash
and spray Febreeze.
Bloodshot eyes
and goodbye Mary.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
It's a bad day when you can't get Celene Dion out of your head
Titanic was good
It was not that good
I found a dried flower
Buried in Leviticus of my sort of grandma's bible
She must have liked that part
The only quote about Leviticus I've read on the internet is about stoning gay people
I hope she didn't like it that much
I saw a bagel get made
No one has the job of eating the middles out
I'm 23, this was a let down
I still like bagels a lot
I tacked the dry flower on my wall
Above the reminder that it's $3 a day to swim at the public pool in the mornings
I hope it's not a homophobic flower
I hid the bible behind Lauren Conrad's book
Lauren Conrad's book embarrasses me less
My sort of grandma
Is only sort of alive
I often feel that way
I feel most alive while dreaming of the impossible
Realistic dreams lead to disappointment
Outlandish dreams leave little 'remember when’s’'
No one hates themselves for not becoming an astronaut
A lot of people hate themselves for not losing 20lbs
Friendships are often measured in favors
That is all
That was not all
Favors are measured in sacrifices
Favors are not measured in reward
Today is a reflection of not dying yesterday
There is a one in seven chance that today is Friday
And it is imperative that we get down on Friday
Because the anticipation for this weekend is very high
If today is Monday all of that is no longer relevant to our conversation
I am losing weight
As I lose weight more and more fat girls hit on me
I do not like this as much as what I was imagining would happen
I have learned that being funny **** cool
Like I am becoming
Does not mean hot girls will hit on me
It means they will actually think about it before saying no
To supplement my soon to be chiseled physic
I am learning a Jack Johnson song on guitar
This worked for an acquaintance in 2006
Maybe I should learn Colbie Callait instead
The world would be better if schools had better teachers
The world would also be better if high school seniors paid attention to the teachers they already have
I don't know which one is easier to fix
My past seems rosier than my future
Except in the case of February 16th 2007
And now February 16th 2012
Corner buildings and modern light fixtures are my favorite aesthetics
My favorite building has neither of those features
Those features are not that awesome
Dead flowers smell like dead things
To combat this I spray cologne on my grandma's flower
I have never been to a funeral
I wonder if they febreeze the dead people
Or maybe they use Chanel No. 5
This is something I would like to learn more about
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC
The money I'm saving on Christmas this year
will be incredibly useful for buying more beer
I'm not buying presents for family and friends
But this festive season I will be making amends
I'll never shop early for presents to give
I swear on my mother, for as long as I live
For while looking for boxes and our Christmas tree
I found boxes of presents from seventy three
All wrapped up and labelled in a box all alone
Hidden by an old blanket that was haphazardly thrown
Beside it, more presents from around eighty four
And as I kept on searching I found many more
There were presents for Grandad, who is now pushing daisies
And a few for Aunt Marg, who we all know was crazy
Gifts for the children, who now have kids of their own
In fact almost all are for children who've grown
I found a few that were given from Santa himself
And a few for my husband on an old wooden shelf
All wrapped up and labelled and dusty as well
I'd febreeze them downstairs to get rid of the smell
I promise from now, I will write down what I hide
And I'll draw a small map to use as a guide
I can't wait now for Christmas to see what we've got
From all the Christmases past, and the gifts I forgot!
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
How much of what we use, is really what we need
and how much do we buy, to feed someone elses greed
We used to open windows and now we buy febreeze
then wonder why the allergies make everybody sneeze
Our homes are airtight boxes, like live-in tupperware
And yet most of us are ignorant to what poisons linger there.
We've been told that if we buy this stuff and do things in this way
Our lives will be much better, than they were just yesterday.
But yesterday the air was clear and you could hear when Robins sang
How did we ever get this far, without ylang ylang?
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 1:12 PM UTC
I am from the outdoors
from Febreeze and smoked salmon
I am from the snow covered hills
and the ice covered lakes
I am from the crowded hockey rink
the cheers and jeers
and the season ticket seats
familiar and worn
I'm from hunting and fishing
from Stacy and Layne
I'm from the military
and bad eyesight
from " 'Merica!", "Let's get DOWN!"
and raps about vicious kitties
I'm from Def Leppard, George Strait
and the Beach Boys
I'm from Hacienda and Chili's
caribou sausage and moose jerky
From the fishing hook my dad
stuck in his finger
The collarbone my brother broke on the ice... twice
This is where I come from
These things are my past
and my present
But the future is in the distance
around the bend
beyond the horizon
And I am eager for it to come
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.
The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
*With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled*
So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.
Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.
And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.
And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.
Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.
The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.
Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
*Thinking of the delights
That awaited him*
However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.
The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
Housewives of Salem county.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
In Room 204 of the Lancaster Motel,
I ease myself into the bath.
Music plays. It's the kind
of pan flute and finger-picked
guitar tune you hear over fuzzed out speakers
in grocery stores. I don't know the source.
The place smells of mildew
and cheap coffee and self pleasure
and Febreeze. I'm tired.
More tired than I've ever been, I think.
Do I still have a job? Until I call in to check, I suppose.
And I suppose this pocket knife will have to do.
I never seem to have a corkscrew on hand when
my mood calls for wine. I stab and jimmy the cork
until I can pry it loose with my teeth. A few
bits of cork float on the surface of the wine.
This does not stop me, nor slow me.
Pollyanna and I stayed in 206,
a detail that calls attention to itself, a detail that
longs for a poetic phrase,
yet I feel little other than the
dull thud of coincidence.
I remember asking her
before that first time if
she thought of *** as
a form or erasure or
addition. She said
both sounded nice.
And something
in the way she said nice,
led me to believe
she landed on an unspoken
third option. I no
longer had an appetite for *** that evening,
but we acted on it to satisfy expectation.
She turned down the air conditioner,
and we laid there shivering and saying little.
She told me not to leave her.
I said I wouldn't.
I'm in the tub now and the bottle is almost empty
and all of this is so selfish and stupid
and I'm just doing it for the sake of habit
and sad sack poetry and ultimately
an "I-Eat-Pussy" consolation fedora in heaven. And I'm
self aware but the trajectory spirals against my will.
And my life entire burns a little slapstick,
so I get outside of myself--watch, enjoy.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
I can't let myself think about you anymore
Or your hands
Or where you put your hands
Or the way it felt when you put your hands on me
Or the gentle sighs I exhaled because it felt so good
Oops
I'm thinking about how it felt
And That's Not Allowed
I can't think about that day at the amusement park
Or us getting lost
Or why we got lost
Because I put the map in my back pocket
And told you if you wanted it you had to get it
I can't think about the photo booth there
Or the reason it took us twenty minutes to take one picture
Such a bad picture of such a good day
Oops
I'm thinking about it again
And That's Not Allowed
I can't think about the car ride home
I can't think about when we stopped for dinner and your parents went inside to order
We stayed in the car
I can't think about that
I can't think about the countless movies we pretended to watch while our eyes were too busy getting lost in the moment
Or how it felt to have your lips pressed against my neck
The stubble on your chin tickled in a good way
Your neck tasted good
I hope mine did
I can't think about you telling me to be careful
Don't leave a mark
And me ignoring you
I wanted to leave a mark
I wanted a piece of myself with you
I can't think about the long hugs when your hands wandered down from my waist to my hips
And sometimes (every time) even farther
Or the way you pulled me closer
And closer
And c l o s e r
Until I could feel you
Really feel you
For the first time
I can't think about the first time I fell asleep on you
You were explaining the origin of your last name
Your stupid last name that I thought would be mine someday
Oops
I'm thinking about it
And That's Not Allowed
I remember where I was sitting when you told me you liked me
I remember what I was wearing when you said I was your favorite
I remember it
But I'm not allowed to think about it
I can't think about the way you smelled--
Like sweat and febreeze and something spicy I could never place
Or how soft your hair was
Or how rough your hands were
Or how I got lost in your eyes
Those big brown eyes
I loved them
But ********* I can't think about them
That's Not Allowed
I can't think about your voice
It was my favorite lullaby
Or the goofy side your never let anyone see
Anyone except me
Why me
Why did you need to break me?
I miss you
I love you
But I can't think about you anymore
That's Not Allowed.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
With a whistle the beeper shrieks 6:45
once a day every day all today
blaring, beeping, beating
Stop! Breathe.
Steaming water hisses into the house
weighed down by romping kids
grabbing, grasping, gathering
always on the go.
I smother my day with febreeze,
and mix, stir, boil my life into simplicity
choking, gasping, breathing
Stop.
Breathe.
Go.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Fabrique en chine
Fabrique en chine
Tout allemange et un
Fabrique en chine
Tout le monde
Fabrique en chine
Ma soeur est
Fabric avec chine
Fabrique en chine.
Les Amis
Febreeze en chine
Le monde
Zut alors
Les mondes est
Fabric sont en chine.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
I’d be a fool to think
that it wouldn’t be problematic
to become emotionally attached to the
addict living on the other side of my apartment wall.
but worse than a fool;
I’d be a liar if I said
I don’t worry about him every single day.
I can hear your squeaky bathroom door shut, footsteps, drawer slam, microwave beep, hacking cough, door open when you leave for your hourly cigarette, door close when you come back, door lock, dry cough, music blasting cause you’re angry, t.v. on, light switch off.
and what I can’t hear, I can still picture, you lighting your pipe, your glazed eyes, you snorting, swallowing, dropping on your tongue; your wide smile, dimples, hair when it’s messy or pushed back; your tears, suppressed emotions, self-medication.
and what I can’t see, I can still smell, your distinct scent, **** mixed with tropical febreeze, 3 am chicken ranch pizza;
or taste, your lips, stale cigarettes, spiced *** on your tongue, fragile skin on your neck.
or still feel your silk hair, velvet skin, cotton bedsheets, the draft that leaks in through the AC unit above your bed, your touch, heartbeat, spine poking out of your back, cold shaky hands, heart drop, goosebumps, heart skipping beats, sick stomach, butterflies, my cold shaky hands, anxious worry, your words, the absence of your hand on my side…
the absence of you;
you as in the person I saw deep within those sap green eyes
in those moments I saw life in them for a only split second.
those few times you actually showed a human side of yourself;
a side of you that spoke apart from the drugs and beside the alcohol,
a side that wanted me.
I know I won’t be the one to save you,
considering that when I said
“I want to help you”
you replied
“I don’t need help” in-between sips of whisky,
before you took out out your pipe, pushed back the
vulnerable boy living inside of you
under debris of
methamphetamines, ******* liquor, LSD, etc….
how could I ever believe
that a boy lost in a dysfunctional version reality
could love me more
than he loves his drugs?
maybe next year I’ll live in a place
where the walls aren’t so thin
and I’m not in love with my neighbor,
or anyone who can love his bottle, pills, powder, and pipe more than me.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
The day before the trip is one where I'm up early - like today.
I've got to go get my oil changed and have the fluids checked.
Next up is to gas up and fill the tires up to *****
Take a break to relax and smell the coffee - medium roast - and a bagel with cream cheese.
Back at it withe the planning and the finding:
A hotel to stay in
The chains for the tires
The clothes needed...
The clothes I will sleep in.
It's all there and packed up, stacked up by the door.
Time to load up the car.
Tomorrow we're headed for the snow.
Empty the car first of all my junk and trash.
I can't believe how much has piled up and been left.
Maybe let's take out the floor mats and lets definitely use the shop-vac.
Spray in some Febreeze... a couple extra squeezes...
And then squeeze the Windex and wipe all the glass and surfaces clean.
Finally time now to lean the back seat down.
Toss in one bag and then the next.
Stack it, stack it, stack.
One more, two more, there's the last.
Close up the door, lock it, it's time for one more rest.
Tomorrow we're headed for the snow.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
the rainy air felt cold against my cheeks
i was shaking so bad
when i lit my cigarette at first, i tried to sit on my bed and just leave my window open to the screen,
but the smoke greeted me in my room and hung around
so i opened the full window, and leaned all the way out
**** it" i said, i sat on the sill and just let myself enjoy it
enjoy this last half of a cigarette, i had just gotten a pack on thursday
it was sunday they were all gone
i stuck my feet out and let the drizzle send goosebumps up my to my shoulders and a shiver to my toes
i couldn't tell what was smoke and what was my breath, but i kind of liked it
i pretended my hits were much bigger than they really were
the smoke got caught under my bangs and stung my eyes,
then i just let myself cry for a little bit.
eventually, long after i finished my smoke, i willed myself to climb back inside, febreeze my room to all hell, set out a cup of vinegar, and go to sleep.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
raised by a pack of cigarettes.
easier to quit--
tossed into a roadside ditch.
•••
your attention span is horrible.
you just proved my point.
I still love you.
•••
I'll be your empty glass bottle
collecting dust as you collect me--
you'll wipe me off someday
•••
I miss the fresh air.
google searched fresh air,
ordered Febreeze.
•••
I'm sleeping next to you
in the morning after
I'm that type.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
It was twenty past two,
In my bed I was snoozing
Soon to be awoken,
Though not through my choosing
I needed to urinate,
I had to go and ***
Not one beer before bed,
Instead I had three
Not that I was drunk,
Not even a little,
The issue you could say -
My wakefulness was brittle
I went to the bathroom,
Not turning on a light,
A lapse of judgement,
I'll admit in hind sight
My urethra had opened,
My ***** did ****
But unfortunately my friends,
It was quite the bad miss
In the darkness I stood,
As I threw down a towel,
An action that ultimately,
Only led to a row
Apparantly this mopping,
And a squirt of febreeze,
Just wasn't enough,
To put my girlfriend at ease.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
she wrote me a letter, scented
of perfume
I no longer had my third biggest
budget bill
the plug in air fresheners and
Febreeze
by the gallon, no longer needed.
And, about then I got this Email,
invest
in the US Postal Service, the stock is at an
all time low.
So now I am much richer, more wise,
conscious
of the future again, it is smelling sweeter!!
I have
the emailed stock certificates to
prove!
I re-invested all those savings wisely.
awaiting
the dividends. When I sit vicariously, pouring over my balance
sheet,
I find Olde English and cigarettes have
risen way to the top of my budget the
empty
cans are my top asset! I
smile
at my luck, almost like winning the
Lottery!
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
You know those kids spritzing febreeze perfume,
Rollin' by, no curfew soon.
Shades on past the afternoon,
They have what they need and they don't need you.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
We look at each others feet as we can hear the hums of this being over soon
Over me
Over you
Over the fact that I checked the boxes of chances you had.
No more room for the these checks
They are bouncing back,
To the same place
That you took my breath away long ago.
Ironic.
Because the same place I swept you away in my arms
Is the same place.
Were i just found my breath that I was searching for.
When I was looking for calming voice
For my breath fresh air
I found your febreeze like musk
Covering the fact
That your smell isn't welcomed
Your aroma of far fetched excuses.
And “give me another chance.”
On why you acted the way you were.
This what used to be us in this Apartment flat
puzzle pieces that used to fit oh so right
Now pushing away like two backwards magnets,
Stuck to the notion
Of packing my bags
And made sure that ****** door stayed closed.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 10:46 PM UTC
Well blow me down, and spit me out
my salmon can gone awry
Spilling in my lap and chair
I think, that I, will die
My co-workers gag and complain
I'm embarrassed as all hell
Never will, another can I bring
to release, such an awful smell
I've three more hours to contend
smelling like a bad bait shop
No way, no how, to pretend
this odor, ever stops
Home I'll go, when my shift ends
and do, some needed laundry
Nothing to say that could defend
a stinky, clumsy, spilling spree
Tomorrow, I'll procure Febreeze
and apply it, liberally
Hopefully killing, this fishy whiff
escaping, notoriety
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 1:38 PM UTC
if anything like me
you tire of chasing your
tail around the table
if you are like me
at all you smell , occasionally
your own and bathe
or Febreeze, if
you are crazy, like me
in a good way
you write stupid ****
remove it when you
come down,
if you like just saying
hi, or smiling at every
passerby, you and me
can have a drink
together, I am buying.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC