Fat Teeth

You shone
my black dressed diamond;
horoscope on golden chain,
bunny collar and headband
virgin white but both fake;

Corset, skirt and
flesh coloured stockings,
no shoes you said
“They were too tight”,
beguiled by your fat teeth*
I regret it was all too short
A night.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

After a great night out on the eve of my birthday. The words “fat teeth” are not actually what I was looking for but they were suggested to me in conversation. Replace them with “smile” for added sentimentality.

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The Sixty Second Rule

I am not the moral majority
neither right nor left;
I am a father of two who
writes nonsense poems
about cats, chickens,
manic depression and death;

Do not censor your work
it is cathartic for your soul;
censor received comments
their gilded nature and their
sycophantic silver-tongued tone.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

Please read my warning page and “He owns a Thesaurus and a knife” Thank you.

The boy with 100 teeth

“Brush you teeth”, his mother said
“or you’ll only have normal ones in your head”
Colin was scared so he kept on brushing
night and day, mouthwash; flossing.

Colin did as he was asked
and brushed his teeth as sharp as tacks
and as his teeth got so much brighter
he noticed his gums got so much wider
and instead of an old one falling out
in the corner of his mouth
a new one would sprout.

For many weeks they continued to grow
at a rate that confused his dentist so.
“Colin” he asked “do you eat snacks?”
“Oh yes” said Colin “but only dentists” he laughed.
The dentist ran his finger along tooth and gum
“Your mouth is wider than anyone!”
He counted the teeth from back to front
“97…98…99…plus one”
“Instead of your teeth falling out
it appears a new set you seem to sprout”

Colin smiled his toothy grin
his dentist paused; not sure where to begin
“Doesn’t it hurt 100 teeth?”
“not really” said Colin, “If you keep them clean”
His dentist went crazy, “you must be mad”
“Not me” said Colin, “You should see my Dad!”
and from his pocket a photograph pulled
“Five hundred teeth and one set of gums!”
“Now that’s what I call a nice set of choppers,
too many for a kid but not for a monster”
and with one bite the dentist disappeared
and Colin smiled from ear to ear.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Sour Creamed Customer Service

You were anything but
your name-badge “Joy”;
with your sunken face and
sour demeanour,
your cigarette sallow skin,
covered bloodhound jowls as
you stood colder than the freezer.

You snatched my money and
without pleasantries or spoons
you thrust me my food
whilst simultaneously sucking
all the oxygen from the room.

You burnt my salad
with your scowl
and froze my cubed cheese
with your breath;
telepathically I tried to make you smile;
you serve food
not timeshares on behalf of death!

I wrote this on the back of my till receipt from my local supermarket.
I made the mistake of complaining about the quality of the meal I had been served. The manager brought over the canteen supervisor and I was transfixed by the fact that she was absolutely, 100% devoid of all human emotion. It was as if I were talking to a bowl of soup. I think I will print out a copy of this poem and put in in their suggestion box.

©  Copyright D. Archer October 2011