Just the Regular Scotty Dogg

(Don't rightly remember. They always called me Dogg / The Potato Fields, Indiana)

Pondering The Disposal


Steel blades in a dark
hole.
Food gets smushed.
Put your fingers in;
flip the switch.
Bones crunch. Flesh
grinds.
Smiling pain teeth;
push harder.
Make rut nubs for
your private.
Lotsa blood down the
drain.
Deep breath:
on your knees now.
Soaking a paper
towel. Just for
fun.

Submitted: Monday, November 28, 2011
Edited: Sunday, December 04, 2011

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Comments about this poem (Pondering The Disposal by Just the Regular Scotty Dogg )

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  • Sidi Mahtrow (2/5/2012 7:09:00 PM)

    Dick Philips called it the hog
    Cause it et everything
    Bones and all
    Or jus a flush off the plates.
    Course if yo had a real hog
    It'd be more better cause
    You cud eat it in the end.

    s (Report) Reply

  • C. Cruz (12/20/2011 6:20:00 PM)

    Images like this is what keeps the finger free to write good poems. Nice! (Report) Reply

  • Crimson Love (12/6/2011 10:12:00 PM)

    This is quite a scary poem, but its sort of my thing, beautifully written, with very vivid images. Great job. :) (Report) Reply

Read all 6 comments »

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