Briellezbub's Tales

The Days Of Grimy Noses

Brielle Chittim 14.02.09

Make a fence,
You make a point
Of science;
Kneecap, tendon, joint.
I didn’t know where to go,
But here inside this red yoyo.
I bet you barely notice me walking
Along a string, this little thing
On such a, Oh – well not a very
Really not a nice enough day.

I rolled the pieces of plasticine
Mixed the word [rape]
The yellow, I mean
I, I really changed the way,
It’s obscene.
And you are spitting green.

A winning formula
With stuffing stuffed
And huffings huffed
A scarf at tea
Truffled me
Not enough
Not enough.

You said, “Not my child.”
She cannot sit
Not there, not with
So close, to wit.
I prithee comfort
A breathing dark
A vast timbrelled sleep
Sleep, sleep.

A Different Risk

Brielle Chittim
Inking up newsprint with splotchy headlines
My words, cum-droplets of my insides
The words roll smooth across the page
Like I’m a paper mate sage

You walk like you’re somebody
Like a game, like the legs of industry
Comforting spot, a slew of you
Different risk, I need a few.

I like skunks and monks
And the kid at the back of the class who flunks.
I like the ones who have a soul like the punks
And the ones who seem like they could never make it;
The ones who are least likely to fake it.
I take stock from the bin most reject
And blow off caste so I can connect
It’s spirit world most don’t care or know of
A pigeon curb family of the dove
I was flown from.