THE MOUSTACHE

THE MOUSTACHE
Jeffrey Park

So proud he is of his little moustache,
oh, how blond and bristly and shapely
in its well-defined little territory.
But it’s more, so much more than decoration.
If you watch very carefully you’ll see
that it actually communicates,
expressing distinct thoughts – his? its own?

You can begin to sense its disdain,
doled out in equal measure to flaps of naked
skin and unruly wooly caterpillars.
You imagine the cool breeze emanating
from the nostrils and lust after the
sensuousness of those little hairs caressing
your lip as you murmur in your sleep.

©2011 This work is the property of the author.

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Posted on August 18, 2012, in Jeffrey Park, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. This is first of three poems from Jeffrey Park. I loved this piece and if you did too, then head to the Poets’ Page where you’ll find a link to his site.

  2. A ‘stache the poet reveals can be the fairly hairy face of a good and humorous guy, a sad
    minor mustache of a girl, a genius like Chaplin who exposed Hitler,a devil like Herr Hitler himself or other gross faceless dictators who stash their goods in bad lies. People forget their own face of humanity and and human natures and often will in their political or social life stupidly through illiterate lunacy or through their own reactionary beings will among the
    masses cheer them on! Jeffrey sees caterpillars, not yet butterflies, not yet the oil of gladness on his beard as he murmurs in his sleep but all the senses of sensuousness.
    I think the eyes ,yes, the nostrils, the very numbered hairs have significance in the chance
    that of a self effacing poet will, some morning, realize that even before a a fun house mirror, that is a part of life, will not indulge into pure narcissism or fascism but into insight and love toward others.

  3. Jeffrey’s poem inspires me to write a moustache ode. I haven’t shaved my pip clean in 40 years. Gotta love when it freezes in winter and becomes a ‘stache made of icicles. Nice poem. Thanks, Jeffrey

  4. oops. I mean lip, not pip.

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