People are orchids; cunt’s in disguise, and my tongue is already licking their splendid protruding lips like schnapps.
I’ve behaved like an orchid before – all puffed up and pouty, making holier-than-thou statements before those dreadful chinese lanterns have me boxed in, their crude hypnotic swagger acting like a prayer.
People are indeed orchids, complete with parasites and annoying bity insects that sting and suck their way into our folds like thrips; bugs spreading their shit everywhere.
But who cares?
Give me Derris Dust any day, thrips have no feelings and orchids are such selfish sluts!
How dare they open their sub-waxy petals and assault my precious beliefs, forcing me to question my disease!
How dare they splay those wanton colours around willy-nilly, when I really want to rub their ruddy faces in it!
After all, too much free love can only encourage lust, can’t it?
Lanterns are a much more suitable display of proliferation. Pyrethrum perfume is so underrated, isn’t it?
Fertilizer certainly brings us all down to earth sooner or later.
Get plucked orchid!
I try my very best not to behave like an orchid. I try even harder to walk away from those flowering displays of tall poppy syndromes, but they tease me.
I try not to react to orchids if I can help it, preferring to turn the other leaf however, like all flowering displays, it would seem that misandry is misplaced.
The stupidity of self serving dwarf hybrids is ridiculed by other orchids, who would rather still remain an orchid in full bloom.
Orchids are not perfect!
If orchids could project all my vindictive hatred towards other orchids, turning them all into a mere arrangement, I’d at least have a chance at self love.
Oh wait – I touch myself all the time!
What was I thinking? To hell with orchids having their own way, I prefer to deal with other varieties whom feel cajoled into behaving like real orchids!
As far as I’m concerned, its your orchidy choice, not mine.
Same goes for feeling indignation when calla lilies become offended!
Life will always be a red hot poker if you let an orchid get to you.
Poor little victimy poor me lantern. I’m so plucking ‘offended’ by you – boo-fucking-hoo!
Heaven forbid I might have to consider taking responsibility for my own lustful thoughts!
Never try to enlighten a lantern when they don’t believe they have been or are behaving like a plucking orchid!
They’ll end up sitting on you, pouring pyrethrum from a half empty cup all over your splendid bloom, convincing you that their pollen is justified.
Typical perpetrator behaviour with an overwhelming sense of entitlement.
I attract orchids like flies, never mind the thrips. I’m finally learning to recognise the subtle difference.
One sucks the life out of you, while the other annoys the fuck out of you!
Of course I’m going to pick on you when all I hear are wasps!
I don’t care if it wilts your stem! I don’t care if it makes me the pair of secateurs for hurting your feelings!
I’ve picked, I’ve been plucked and I don’t accept thorns any more.
© Copyright 2019, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved