You Better Wash Your Mouth

by Rich Boucher

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This is the new stuff. The new Ish. The New Lillian Gish. The shyte. We all did this. With profuse thanks to Nigel Baum and Chris Fanny for their contributions to this track.


You Better Wash Your Mouth

You better wash your mouth;
you've been parroting
what you're hearing on the radio
and now your mouth is full
of evil spirits and advice for truckers;
now your mouth is a playground
for the mumps and for the HPV Papilloma virus
and for the rickets virus;
you better wash your mouth
or I'm going to come over there
and force God to straighten out
everything that's wrong
with your whistling apparatus;
you better wash your mouth;
I've seen you hiccuping like there's no tomorrow
over the salad bar;
you better wash your mouth!

You better wash your mouth;
you've been eating carrots
and then you had roast beef
and then after that
you had a piece of apple pie
with a slice of cheese;
it's been a few years
since you've seen your toothbrush
and who knows what could happen;
I could give you a brownie
and a handful of glue
and tell you to eat it and you'd have to;
you better wash your mouth
or I'm going to smash your back teeth right out of you
and shove a can of Right Guard down your throat;
I know; I know you've been eating your fingernails
and baby souls and holy communion;
you better wash your mouth!

You better wash your mouth
with lemon fresh Zing; it’s new
and you’ve been eating
a lot of garlic
and Facebook
and murder;
it's exciting
but your breath smells as bad as an angel’s, though;
your breath is like a bomb
and no one’s gonna want to go
to your house for trick or treat no more;
you better wash your mouth
‘cause you’ve eaten every word you've ever had
before you spit them out,
every word you’d ever said,
each one just one part of your lifelong preamble
to the short poem of your dying words;
you’ve been eating messenger birds
and turning things you should have said
into secrets in a sac on your back;
you better wash your mouth;
you better wash your mouth
before I come over there
and rap you across the jaw
with a human thighbone
I plucked off of a racing horse;
you’ve been saying “ok” a lot
when you should have been saying
“I don’t think I agree”
and now your breath reeks
like a baby caught in a volcano,
like the sweatpants of Moby Dick,
like a MacBooks’ slick and sticky pink intestines;
you better wash your mouth
before I come over there
and chop you right in the balls of your soul
with a flea market I got at the boomerang;
you better watch your mouth with ow-cohol,
not alcohol but OW-cohol
and LAVA working man soap
and mouthwash made out of Listerine
and ground up Jell-O hooves
before I come over there
and smack you right in your gross, rubbery mouth
with a witch doctor I found on the corner.

Hear what I’m saying;
know the danger I present to you;
you better wash your mouth.


Copyright © 2012 by Rich Boucher.
Words and music by Rich Boucher.
Bass: Nigel Baum. Drums: Chris Fanny.


released May 16, 2012
Bass by Nigel Baum. Drums by Chris Fanny. Poem text and SFX by Rich Boucher



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Rich Boucher Albuquerque, New Mexico

Rich Boucher is a performance poet whose poems have appeared in Adobe Walls: An Anthology of New Mexico Poetry, Fickle Muses, The Rag, The Malpais Review, Crack the Spine, Menagerie, Clutching at Straws, Shot Glass Journal, Mutant Root, Sparkbright, The Mas Tequila Review, Borderline, The Legendary and The Nervous Breakdown. ... more

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