something in the air

have you ever heard, perhaps?
the fart that sounds like a thunderclap
it booms and rings deep in your head
entering from eardrums shattered red

then there’s the one that sneaks up, behind
sly, surreptitious but well-timed
it comes and goes without a trace
lingering on many a contorted face

what about the one, that chugs and coughs along
like an ageing rockstar trying one last song
it wheezes and struggles to get out
an asthmatic gasp from deep south

then there are those, that wet the briefs
a pregnant cloud of insufferable grief
once free, they pollinate with aplomb
searching, scalding like a napalm bomb

and of course, some just go on and on
like a happy beer drinker in the john
resting maybe for a pause or two
then blaring forth with vigour anew

speak not of those, with a will possessed
indisciplined, impossible to suppress
they slip out at the wrongest of times
and pinpoint the owner, with a signature chime

and then there’s the crowd favourite
Ol’ El Stinko that all love to hate
the bastard that no one calls his own
as victims cringe and cry and collectively moan

so my friends, stop, sniff, ponder
does absence make the heart grow fonder?
and should you come across a new flavour
don’t tell me- it’s all yours to savour.

ram cobain