"toenail" poems
Five thousand trees between his knuckles
Crushing the bark, choking the oaks
Straining through leaves with makeshift sieves
Angling to find an ankle or two
Praying that even a toenail would do
But all to be found was her mountain laurel crown
Still tangled with strands of burnt-birch down
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Look at him twitching
You know he's tweaking
His jaw swinging back and forth
But there's no speaking
See's something down
In the carpet twinkling
He gets all excited
You know what he's thinking
Anything he finds
He's going to be smoking
I wouldn't be laughing
Because he ain't joking
Down there for hours
Refusing to fail
Doesn't even slow down
After smoking toenail
Smokes up almost
All that he finds
He hears a noise
Now he's peeking through the blinds
He's been smoking too long
And he's up all night
Doesn't have a job
But that's alright
He's finds a dumpster
And without any warning
He's dives in searching
Til the early morning
That's just the life
Of a tweaker you see
Always out hustling
To get his **** for free
If you see him at night
Approach with caution
He's got a stink about him
Because ain't been washing
Picking at his face
Til his sores are bleeding
A light and a mirror
Is all he's needing
He finally got busted
Now he's on parole
Has to hide his drugs
Up in his ********
It's a shame, but that's the way
A tweaker gets by in the world today
His family don't want him
And he don't have many friends
His life is cut short
And that's how it ends
Everybody knows him
But no one knows his name
They just refer to him
As "That dope smoking Lame"
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
you are there, in the kitchen
of my dream
at the stove making enchiladas
and tapioca.
you are probably one hundred and
i think you might keel over, dropping
your white head into the *** of yellow
pudding.
i wonder how you got so suddenly old
and i so suddenly young when
i can remember
reading fairy tales
buying you sugary breakfast cereals
and letting you sleep in my bed
even though you kick
and also tell people
the embarrassing things i say
in my sleep.
i am so hungry i want to eat it all
and leave none for you
but you say to wait
to wait until my eyelashes turn
into a million tiny butterflies
and tickle my skin
with their light wings.
but i'm hungry now, i whine
shoving past you
pushing a hot tortilla between my teeth
and swallowing greedily
desperately
before collapsing
into a sea of blue tiles.
i awake violently, your small foot at my chin.
staring at me is a toenail painted blue.
i stare back at it, into that
tiny ocean.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
The garbage in my room
Smells like embarrassment
It’s the hot Cheetos bag that sits in my desk
It’s the q-tips with earwax
The ideas that float around in my head
And my roommates toenail clippings
The garbage in my room
Clutters the free space
Taking up room that it should not take
The shopping bags and boxes
That held beautiful things
Now empty and cumbersome
The garbage in my room
Takes up my memory
Forgotten blog posts and poems
Fill the hard drive in my brain
Silly thoughts and quips
Only attempt to clear it out
The garbage in my room
Sits in the can
Thinking of ways to grow
Out of proportion
Waiting to spill out onto the floor
And start crawling up the walls
The garbage in my room
Needs to be taken out.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
Monday's vision's fair of face
in the evenings the plasma rays shine
bright until seen through a window at a distance
******* energy from cables to my mind
blinding into happily blinkered existence
Tuesday's vision's full of grace
guilt makes me pull the covertous shutters down
being the observer is peep peeping embarrassing
being observed pays to add overtising shows on
it's so good not stirring when it's too disturbing
Wednesday's vision's full of woe
I am wilfully weak and slack on the couch
enjoying not having to speak or think
about being set up to get upset by nothing much
the sights flow seamless except when I blink
Thursday's vision has far to go
I would be there now but for one glitch
one flaw in the network's mesmeric sell
shared channels free as birds but rich
beyond the dragnet of any script's sequel
Friday's vision's loving and giving
in the smallest way it's electric beyond measure
distractions demanding attention with a hush
willing the constant whirling on with fresh images
look-look euphoric hooks to reel me in with a rush
Saturday's vision works hard for a living
and I'm wrapped in the dream of existing
by a simple drama of a varnished toenail
extending to a click the vanish going
going the way of Ting Ting Cao
your magnetic stimulation of the transcranial
kicks in and in my scrambled vision I saw
me touch your assimilation on redial
absorbing Sunday entire and raw
footage on display a draw so real
the pay channels dropped their jaw
surreal
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Beneath the couch today I found one of your toenails.
It reminded me of the way your toes once scratched against mine
and I was disgusted because I thought those things resembled
rotten carrots mixed with the stuff I've seen come out of my cat.
It reminded me of the way your hand once brushed mine
and I looked down to see those meaty sausage fingers
carrying on in their meaty sausage way
by spreading grease and filth and must and finger dirt
all over my nice white sleeve.
And then it reminded me of the way I couldn't stand your yellowed teeth
because I knew you didn't like coffee and
that your only excuse was not brushing.
So I looked deeply into that aged toenail found
beneath my couch and amongst some dust
beneath my couch where you sat that once
and I thought this toenail was a portrait of you,
hidden below my couch like the Mona Lisa's missing eyebrows.
But I left that toenail beneath my couch where it fell
the night you took your socks off to show me your tattoo,
the night you kissed me with no socks on,
the night I tasted rebellion in a sockless kiss with yellowed teeth
and sausage fingers in my hair.
Because I stuffed that kiss beneath the couch too
and let it break apart from my foot-life like a carrot toenail.
But that toenail leads me to think that your sausage hands were pretty soft;
that you probably would have liked coffee if you knew I drank it
and then that you were always a working man;
those fingers were proof of a hard day's labour.
So the night you took your socks off for me, could be tonight again
and I'd have the guilty happiness in your sweaty palms I missed before,
then I'd be perfectly okay when pieces of you shed onto my carpet.
But I don't regret the toenail beneath the couch
because at least it's there.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
A hair fell from my eyebrow
and landed in my eye,
it caused my eye to water
just like when you cry.
I cleaned it with my finger
which made this small hair slip
it landed underneath my nose,
just above my lip.
I hadn't noticed where it went
it lay there on my face,
and over time it rooted
and then multiplied this place.
I started scratching at the spot,
I thought I had a rash
but when I looked more closely
I found I had a moustache.
It was as I point out to you
protruding out of the skin
and spread out over many days
and now its on my chin.
I know I didn't have a rash
and it was as I feared
I never only had moustache,
now I had a beard.
This spreading still continues
and I don't think that it's fair
for from my head to toenail
I am now covered in hair.
I've tried so hard to cut it off
and every time I fail
but what is really worrying
is now I have a tail.
So if you see a hair that's loose
and resting on your face
I do suggest you take it off
before it grows some place.
Cause when this hair gets rooted
you see how it can take over
and it is so embarrassing
when people call you Rover.
I don't know what is happening
but when I'm in the park,
I run around, I lick my nuts,
I growl and I bark.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
I attempted skinny dipping once. I was on a beautiful beach, with a former lover. I had a concoction of colourful cocktails coursing through me, too many that I couldn’t have completed that sentence, at the time, if I had tried!
I felt good, amazing even! I giggled and skipped, I breathed in the warm air, I glided towards the sea, I could smell the air getting saltier by the second, I could taste the ocean.
As I pulled at them, my clothes left me, They fell away with grace and floated off into the night. I am so feminine so free I thought! I almost felt as if when I reached the shore line my legs would leave me, a beautiful tail would form!
I would be a mermaid, I would dive in and it would be magic, I would splash and laugh, the moonlight would dance on the water, making my hair sparkle! I would glance back at the land and at my love, he would be raw with emotion, sad for my leaving, wonderment for the sensual, ****** siren I had become!!
Instead.
On the way to the water, I kicked a small rock, fell to the floor like a sack of bricks and let out a noise I can only describe as a deep and gutteral mechanical whine.
As I lay there, disheveled and naked on the sand I could hear in the distance, the heavy laughter of my lover.
I gained some bruising, I lost a toenail and my dignity.
I havent attempted skinny dipping since.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
Let's be real.
There's probably a million reasons as to why she doesn't like you.
Which is probably something you don't wanna hear but let me tell you the some reasons, stupid reasons, as to why she doesn't like you...
It's because she doesn't like the way you cut your pinky toenail.
The 4,126 hair on your head is just too long for her.
Your breathing pattern is off by a millisecond.
Your left eye doesn't pop as much as the right one does.
She doesn't like it when you ***
When you don't reply within a minute and twenty seconds of her sending the original text.
You didn't have her favorite cologne sprayed in your shirt when she hugs you.
You turn down her netflix and chill to hang out with your friends.
She doesn't like the way that you chew your food.
She doesn't like your haircut.
You don't wear the type of pants that she like to look at when she's walking behind you.
You didn't give her the night of her life after she went out on a date with you.
You don't do this.
You don't look like this.
You don't do that.
You don't do this.
Why the heck are you still reading this?
You need to stop listening and thinking about this nonsense.
No matter what they do or what they say,
you don't owe them anything.
Remember that.
With all this crazy things that you overthink about when it comes to someone that you like,
I know you're maybe thinking,
I need to reply faster,
I gotta go cut the 4,126 hair which is too long.
You don't need to do anything for someone else.
Just think about it,
you're almost torturing yourself
to make somebody else happy, but are you happy?
I don't think so.
What goes on in your head
isn't always necessarily true or right.
If she doesn't like the things that you do,
If she doesn't like the way that you look,
If she doesn't like the friends that you hang out with,
If she doesn't like the person that you are,
then you get over her, right now, get over her.
There's no specific person that you should go out and that you should fall in love with.
That specific person is what you find
in your heart and in your mind,
and as crazy as that sounds,
you have to treat yourself with respect.
You have to treat yourself with the love
that you're gonna be giving out to every girl that you see.
You have to love yourself before you love somebody else.
You should stop thinking
that you have to live up to somebody's standards, just in order to make them happy.
If she doesn't like you, then let it be.
You don't need her.
You don't need anybody.
You have you.
Never change who you are
while falling inlove with somebody,
because in the long run, you just won't be happy.
You are good enough.
You shouldn't let being "perfect",
be the enemy of being good enough.
You're never going to be the perfect person for somebody else, because you are already the perfect you for you.
Some people are going to love you.
Some people are just going to like you,
and some people are just not going to be able to handle you.
You just need to know that the only special person you need to be good enough for is yourself.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
I doubt that I have ever
Waited
For my toast to
pop up on its
Own,
I’ve never finished a
jigsaw puzzle,
I use my hairdryer to dry my
toenail polish,
And I
look for love
In all the wrong
Places.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
Send me dead flowers...
He wanted his tombstone
to exhibit just the facts, Ma'am.
No cherubs or platitudes,
meaningless dates or military service.
Only the really important stuff.
Which toenail had the fungus.
His endless dreams of falling.
His penultimate decision about
the imminent existence of God.
How he became a hermit.
Why bourbon was the best medicine.
How, after 57 years, he found a voice.
His two or three best puns.
The virtues of solitude and celibacy.
The best *** he ever had.
Who really killed the Kennedy's.
How he came to fear cassowaries.
Just the things that really mattered.
The things that actually made a life.
This might require a billboard
intsead of a tombstone.
Little enough to ask for eternity.
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
4 strong hands and 20 toes
2 Blue eyes and 1 cute nose
13 brown and golden hairs
6 toenail clippings on the stairs
15 kisses in the dark
1 oddly shaped burlesque birthmark
365 days of love
13 times push came to shove
3 white sweaters that turned pink
19 whiskers in the sink
8 hushed moments under stars
one too many you-shaped scars.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:34 AM UTC
As I stumbled on the pebbled road
I broke a toenail and it left bloodstains
On the humble stones.
“Why did you let me get wounded,” I asked.
A voice from behind the obsequious hills answered,
“I did not,” the voice said reassuringly.
“I desired that you take the other road, but you didn’t listen.”
I trod on. Pained.
I searched for a band to stop the bleeding.
A long black thing lay on the grass.
Serpent!
“Why did you allow that devil bite me?” I cried.
“I did not,” the voice uttered.
“I sent an old man to give you a handkerchief
for you to bind your broken nail but
you said you weren’t crying.”
“Why can’t you just warn me at once?”
“I tried to.”
“You did? When?"
“I called you but you thought I was your girlfriend.”
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
simper, spew roses, eat the toenail of the author
but
NEVER
NEVER
tell
the
truth !
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 4:23 AM UTC
Dropped a spanner on my toe
Ouch...my toenail said
I need a joint to fix it
(5/7/5 syll count)
24th July 2012
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
Scratching families from beneath
Our eleventh toenail
Why, enchanted!
Star Toucher, 12 March 2013
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
“We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits in slithered and too ample pockets.”
Hart Crane, “Chaplinesque”
A footstool in the desert.
A napkin in the netherworld.
A coffee stain in the margin.
Perfumed remains.
Systematic garnish.
Dorothy Stratten climbing Mt. Suribachi.
My late father’s toenail clippers.
Pale clouds over Slauson Avenue on the day after the L.A. riots.
A rhetoric of purpose.
A philosophy of decay.
A poem written to an audience of one.
©David Adamson 2015
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
Under the ancient sofa
among the kingdom of skittish dust bunnies,
I searched that strange underworld
of my living room.
I looked behind the refrigerator,
found old bits of a doughnut
and some new species of insect
and the toenail clippers.
Next to the oldest pile of boxes
in the dampest section of the basement,
found three oddly colored socks
and an ant's nest.
I searched the whole house--
I found no words.
Nothing for the sight of you,
walking away
as the clouds melted
and poured from the sky.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
Old Lincoln's creek comes to mind
when a dog's on my lap, a certain
song's a'whisper, a whimper, with
willows, and so much so, that the
once and promised immortality
evades, ever more than certainly,
more than certainty, when he'd said,
“hurry,” and I’d arrived too late.
And so I’d enter an empty home and
all that waits.
A ship hued red comes to heart
when the memories seem to spill of
only him. My legs were quite
weaker then, one plight, forgotten
and another one, my flailing hand,
with an only respite, offered rail,
and more frail, “hurry ****** –
He'd said, “HURRY!” and I’d
encounter again, an empty home
and all that waits.
And so, the house regressed, if only
earlier, so too, the boy, with his,
“once-again,” first steps home;
weakened toe after bloodied toenail,
foot after foot, inch after inch, but a
reminder to the hunters that in time,
they too, can become the prey when
switches sundered touch and
tomorrow's maw’d gape, “forget;”
That was when, “hurry,” could be
assumed, would be assumed and at
ends, we’d never meet.
And so I entered the empty home
and all that waits.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
It quickly became apparent that not all was
as it once was.
The mouth which governed the wall
(which was twisted and cracked)
smiled,
and proceeded to
grind its teeth
to the beat of the
morbid drone of
the siren.
Each a percussive
slab of yellowing ivory,
chipped, curved;
a grizzled toenail.
Being torn off
may solve more problems
than it causes.
At the door:
A brushing noise.
If the mouth could see
how gracefully
I navigate the room,
it might be impressed
and let me out.
*Note to self:
Doors are best left closed.*
Jun 11, 2011
Jun 11, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
Not one to believe in simple silly charm
But perhaps I need one today
To big toe, see has come wretched harm
And its nail has fallen away
Say, believe with magic powers is art
Perfection of my foot as it will
So I sink this digit in make believe ****
Searching for nail upon window sill
Goes without saying, injury thine own
When stubbed my toe brought a tear
Tooth Fairy affirmed, yet is Toe Fairy known?
Placing nail under pillow I fear
Yes, come to me now, for cannot regret
Love of a fine pedicure
As toe jam so yummy, one never forget
Be more careful in stepping for sure
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
‘Round the world and pieces of me,
So speaks one body come a –
A bad night’s blood spatter in Sioux City,
Lonely little toenail clippings swept Dubai,
Whiskey scented stubble, London nigh Paris,
Oh! The calloused skin round bend,
Wrought broken, my lovely Kyoto,
And maybe, just maybe,
A heart or five elsewhere.
So when the tooth-clerk barricaded
Dusty Chinese counter-top asked,
“Do you want to keep them?”
I responded and with haste, “yes;”
And with a thieves hand,
Snatched my two molars removed.
For I’d already left one too many
Pieces of me here, and though
It was only a tooth, I hadn’t much left.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC