First and Last Wake-Up Call
Lip cracked,
erupted.
Stench of
menthol-infused fists
kisses mouth;
sentient ashtray punch-out.
Penny-flavored,
earthy-scented,
crimson disgust;
skin rising,
purpling dough,
enough to draw sympathy;
not enough for state-intervention.
Manly punishment for talking back.
Lead-knuckled wake-up-call
to first adult decision,
aged sixteen.
Time to go.
***
Shared at dVerse Quadrille #92: Take a crack at poeming, hosted by whimsygizmo. Other poets contributed here.
Also shared at Real Toads November: Nothing is more memorable than scent, Imagined By Sanaa Rizvi.
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble 
Nice lines: “Penny-flavored,
earthy-scented,
crimson disgust;” That is the first time I heard the song about potholes in my lawn.
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Thanks Frank.
“Potholes” doesn’t directly go with my poems theme, as the song is about plagiarism and how other artists jacking their style pisses them off (abstract hip hop is the best hip hop).
This song is relevant to me — and this moment — because it was heavy in my music rotation back in 1989 when I was 16.
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Time to go was your second…. Pummeling parents deserve a taste of their own medicine.
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I hear you. Thank you. You are kind and right to be outraged.
Sadly, most have already had a few doses. I wish that medicine would disappear for good.
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When I worked with juvenile delinquents and their families it was called “old school” discipline. Sadly many of the other P.O.s (and police involved with the calls) believed in old school. It’s a terrible message to give kids, when they tell the officer at the scene what happened and get treated like they deserved it.
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No one should ever have to go through all this.
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You have a kind soul. Thank you for visiting me here.
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Sadly a troubled childhood and youth make the young adult very wary of the world and trusting few others. Letrs hope tthose affected search for something better and not use their experience to be the same as their parents.
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A vicious cycle indeed. Sometimes momentum goes unchanged, sometimes the wheel is broken, with varying greys in between.
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No matter how old, or wise, or worldy we get- remembrances like this never dull, never fade. And the pain? It just draws inward. Powerfully told.
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Some things we can’t recall; others feel as if they happened yesterday. Thank you.
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This is so heart-wrenching 😦 I resonate with “skin rising, purpling dough, enough to draw sympathy,” that is the scent of pain and endurance right there. Thank you so much for writing to the prompt.
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Thank you for creating the prompt! I absolutely loved your poem. I’ll try to write something more upbeat next.
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❤️
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Violence of any degree perpetrated upon a child, is unacceptable Barry — yes, time to go, hopefully with a place to go!
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I agree. Sadly, violence can be easily bequeathed unto others unless we’re vigilant. Thank you.
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Gah. MAN, that was powerful.
THIS is the best poetic description of blood I have ever read:
“Penny-flavored,
earthy-scented,
crimson disgust”
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Thank you. Glad it resonated with you. 😊
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A powerful write. Hopefully all violence is past and your ship is sailing with the wind.
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With words, powerful words, you bring us to the brink of pure disgust. No child deserves mistreatment. Leading our local news this morning: Couple Sentenced to Life in Prison for Starving Their Four Year Old Daughter. Thank you for being brave and strong.
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Oh what a set of angst – scents… the conclusion with the teen hormone age was perfect with all those scents.
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Those particular scents worked well with the action in this sad tale.
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Thank you for visiting. 🙂
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Each phrase you used was so saturated with imagery and emotion. I loved how you mixed senses (like “penny flavored”
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(Sorry – pressed reply by accident before I was done!). This was so evocative and powerful.
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