Late Night No-Brain
I was sooo tired when I wrote this. I can only apologise.
Giggle, wiggle, swarm, and pong
All dressed up to sing along
I wish I had a booger, strong
and handsome, like some moms.
Don't tell stories to your neighbour,
they'll give hookas if you labour
always to tell just the juice,
leaving out the facts of news.
It all conspired against me
At first I tried some paper, and some colours for the cardBut the scissors turned to noodles and the crayons into lard.
At first I tried some paper, and some colours for the card
But the scissors turned to noodles and the crayons into lard.
I ripped it with my hands and teeth but that just wouldn't do;
Mangled lard-smushed dead ex-tree is no valentine for you.
A more traditional approach, methought; aroma'd flowers and some treats.
But no one sells Red Kiss-Me-Baby's, and I ate all the sweets.
Doomed was I at every turn, no real hope in sight.
It might be best to disappear and vanish in the night!
And now too late! The Day has come. I’ll tell all from my knees.
The carnage that would come about!; my mind reviles the scene.
I trudge the walkway, gulp at steps and tremble to your door,
Terrified at what awaits, sweat rolling from each pore.
I see a hand that's mine reach up to ring the gonging bell.
The sound a death knoll, final judgment. I'm certain bound for hell.
A burst of shadow beyond the curtain, the barrier flung wide
And now behold my darling dear, the apple of my eye!
Her pretty curls tumble playful past her cheek and shoulder
Her slender form fits just right in arms longing to enfold her.
And down I fall at Beauty's feet to beg & plead for mercy,
You drop quickly just beside (you really are quite nursey)
And lifting up my quivering chin while I gush the truth in stutters,
You kiss me lightly on the cheek and grant me eyelid flutters
I suppose I shouldn't marvel at this wonder; that I'm still alive.
You're my firstest Valentine, and me? I'm only five.
Meditation
He sits there, peaceful, still, so quiet.
He sits there, peaceful,
still,
so quiet
doesn't even seem to breathe.
He never shifts his gaze
or blinks;
doesn't twitch a muscle.
Match the height of patient stare,
Feel fierce heat of molten glare.
Spirit wars to master self.
Unconvinced soul seethes.
Cage of brimming, unaware,
endlessness adorned with flesh;
Machine awaiting next command.
He sits there, peaceful,
still,
so quiet
doesn't even seem to breathe.
The Mighty Cow
O mooing man!
Oh mooing man, o mooing man,
Low to those who pass in vans!
Bellow louder! Fierce and grand!
Let them shudder where they stand
For woe awaits the foolish few
Stanced defiant to the Moo.