Mama always said...Son, mind that bump
The road is wide and the load we dump
So, Mama would dare me
But, fear would impair me
I'm Petrified Forest...Forest Gump!
In Vietnam, Lieutenant Dan thunk...
Me and Bubba should just share a bunk
But, the bunk was loaded
And Bubba exploded
I'm Chunks in the Forest...Forest Gunk!
Well, it's inspection time again!
The Boys in the Barracks are wiping,
buffing, spit-polishing, belts and buckles...
Lest they feel the Wrath of their D.I.'s Knuckles!
Now, once they're all prepped and polished,
Some may soon find...their world demolished!
silence falls...Quick footsteps down the hall...
Not, One, Soul, Is, BREATHING...At ALL!
ATTEN-SHUN! BARRACKS READY FOR INSPECTION SIR!
AS YOU WERE CORPORAL! What Have We Got HERE?
You MAGGOTS! Look like something that...
Got PAID!, Got LAID!!, and then...Got...FRAPPE'D!!!
YOU...CALL...YOURSELVES...MARINES???
CUZ, I'VE GOT A BETTER DESCRIPTION!... LADIES!!!
PRIVATE KLUTZ!!!, STEP FORWARD!!!
THIS...is what the H, E, double Hockey Sticks...I MEAN!
What the HELL!...is that...GACK!!!...on your RACK???
It looks like...you Lost your PAY...Playing...POKER!!!
Couldn't AFFORD...to get...LAID!...
Couldn't AFFORD...to Get... FRAPPE'D!!!
Then YOU...told...ALL...The Others...YOUR BROTHERS!!!
YOUUU!...FELT SICK...BUT INSTEAD...WHIPPED YOUR WICK!!!
IF YOU PREFER TO BLOW...GUNK!!!...ON YOUR...BUNK!!!
THEN...SAVE YOUR GRAVY!!!...AND...JOIN...THE...NAVY!!!
AS YOU WERE...PRIVATE!!!
My fingernails are filthy
Looks like they are digging ditches while I sleep
I begin to groom myself like a cat
I do not use my tongue, I use other nails
Nails scraping gunk out of other nails
Hoping to put off my bath until Wednesday
I swim in sorrow, deep and wide,
Against a tide that won’t let me hide.
Each thought is bleak, each stroke is weak,
My breath is weak, I cannot speak.
If I stop to think, I start to sink.
My eyes glue shut if I blink.
I'm slunk in a glum, glug slug of gunk.
Stuck in the oooze of blues, I'm sunk.
My arms grow weary, my eyes are teary.
My fate is bleary, dreary, weary.
For grief is a sea, land-locked in self pity,
In which we wallow, until we swallow, nitty-gritty.
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm “IRREG” for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
Why are you sitting here playing with your shadows?
Your bitter sadness is building too much gunk inside your mind.
Let the past go.
Wash away your tears and let the pain flow.
Scrub each thorn till it spills, leave them hollow.
Grit down your teeth; drag a match against the haze,
Let it split open, watch it dance in a maze.
Lips cracking, fingers numb, but my pulse still hums.
A drowning ache in the echo chamber of a hollow.
(C) CRAIG J. BURT & GilaVamp 10/25/24
I can churn stomachs, with a stench of truth
An abscess filled with maggots, pus profuse
As I feed off gunk, new nerve ends take root
Raw language in my words, not gross abuse
Yes! I am disgust, old wounds fear my fruit
To late for contest
I wake up at 5:30 most mornings
Before the sun has a chance to rise
Head for the bathroom as fast as I can
To get rid of yesterday's Mai Tai
I let out a great big sigh of relief
As I wipe the gunk from my peepers
Stand in front of a full length mirror
Like Tarzan, in my trap door sleepers
I sure am ruggedly handsome, methinks
Could even grace the cover of GQ
That's if they publish a special edition
For overweight, balding yahoos
Maybe I'm being too hard on myself
I've still got a surprise up my sleeve
Like running a mile in two hours flat
Great feat for old guys to achieve
Here's the crux of the matter my friends
It's something I sadly must share
Try all your life to take care of yourself
You'll still wind up old with no hair
You chew me up and spit me out.
You walk all over me.
Your sneakers, sticky from the pink gunk that still clings to them.
You get new shoes and a new flavor of gum.
Bubblegum and Nike doesn’t suit you anymore.
But Mint and Adidas do.
On the occasional days, you feel nostalgic,
Craving the taste of bubblegum
And the cushion Nike provides you.
Those days never last long.
In the end, I will always be the gum stuck to your Nike shoes.
Spit me out and walk all over me again.
I’ll still cling to you like the sticky gunk I am.
God intended to put eye gunk on people's eyes when they wake up so they could see and clean their faces first before looking at other people's faces...
August 24, 2023
I was a negative teen, not depressed -
My diary declared I was.
A complainer indeed, no one stopped me;
Only a sociology teacher
gave me some definitions to ponder.
I was a listener back then -
the friend not the one that needed advice
yet. But
no one heard me; I was cut off
from the world. Sheltered
is what my aunts said.
Seemed shameful, sad.
Pondered for years what it meant.
You really don’t know…
You don’t know what it means…
Then you don’t know how it fits
and then you ponder…
how do I fit?
I went to Catholic school from Kindergarten through 7th.
In 7th grade I had a teacher who told us about a séance
he was in. Who let him through the door?
That year I had a Ouiji board…what in the world
was going on THAT year! Later
I rebuked all of that and more.
I gave it up for the Lord, I adore.
All that gunk clogs up your spiritual arteries.
A steady diet of biblical truth cleans one out.
When we wake each morning
We're blessed with this stuff called “eye gunk”
Annoying as it is we are all blessed with it
Pretty sure animals aren't afflicted
If they were they would scratch their eyeballs
With their claws and scream bloody murder
Can you imagine the excruciating pain
This would cause unbearable discomfort to say the least
The only way to avoid the pain altogether
Is to curl up in the prenatal position and die
A humid day,
mosquito clouds swarm along
a red dirt road to the farm.
There are grimy rows of pig pens,
hazed dark by humming hordes
of black fly.
Bob (an old friend), chuckles.
“Man, you picked the wrong time of year
to come visit.”
The hogs grunt and squeal.
He waves,
“be with you soon.”
It’s slop-time - the air is turgid
with the many notes of a stale miasma,
everywhere there is the splatter
of slime and muck.
He carries smeared green buckets;
a deleterious, partly consumed gunk
that reeks of that semi-solid swill
hogs grow fat upon.
On the low walls
there are slick stains, layers of grime;
a smeared feculence
corrugated into noxious layers.
Even behind the stalls
there are a heaps
of sludge and slurry.
Bob flushes surfaces down
with his long hosepipe.
He bends to his tasks whistling happily
while I explain to my new wife
that he used to work for the C.I.A.
I can see she’s surprised,
maybe impressed.
Long pause…
watching Bob wade knee deep
into his labor of love.
“Yea”, I sighed,
“he got real tired of all that."
```````````````
an edit
How come each morning when we greet the day
The gunk in our eyes makes us say, “what the hey!”
What good is this stuff
Enough is enough
Sometimes nature is a pain in the souffle
Wish you were never born
Wish you never came to be
Wish you were never came around
Wish you weren’t my father
All you are is just a ghost
In the backdrop.
You sleep in a coffin
Only to rise from the grave
Looking for a fresh meal
That was slaved over the stove.
You may do minor work
But that ain’t enough
Ladies got the world on their shoulder
While your scratching your ass in the corner.
You are a poison
That tries to kill slowly
But I reject the cocktail
Shoving it down your ungrateful throat
As you choke on your toxic gunk
Croaking like a frog with your hands on your neck.
You don’t spare time
With your loved ones
Too focused on your reflection
Thinking of yourself
While the world burns behind you.
Why were you even born?
Why would your parents conceive you?
Why did you bother having a family?
How do you sleep at night?
Do the universe a favor
Throw yourself in a black hole
Vanish into the void
Be erased from reality
Become nonexistent.
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