I must elude to the fact that theatre’s not taboo the dirty, filthy basement seen is not that dank, it’s true the smattering of cobwebs allure the wary eye to trashdumped messily about and the buzzing of a fly To regain thoughts on where you are and shift your astonished gaze you excavate your cluttered mind and think of all the ways that cellars are collocated with darkness and with dirt but the stage is still a fantasy a primitive concert
I was having a dinner when a few of my friends, the closest ones here, when noise softly begins I suddenly realized that the noise was from me I was enthusiastic As they all could see I looked up at the trees with the shape of a fan pulchritude clearly exciting sight for a man The orangey sky glowed a deep, murky hue in my behavioral coma I thought just what to do I crossed the small yard and leaned on the gate a square metal lock hanging from a small plate I yanked at the lock but it was fixed up real tight so I bid them farewell and said to all them, “goodnight”
He was active, unkind and sort of a jerk unhappy in life, for nothing he’d done Acting deftly a prig but really below with a derelict attitude of everyone He’d rip you to pieces and shout out in joy while jotting long notes in his book With a thunderous whoop and low greasy laugh pouring out poison each time his hand shook Bounding out of his house and way down the street Grabbing things that were not of his own Like a big nasty dog with brown gnarly teeth being teased from a huge juicy bone. When his life had become a big sloppy mess He asked his friends what was the root They came all undone and laughed right out loud Giving their friend a quick and a hard boot. He cried out in pain and tried to run fast toward a pier from this maddening crowd But he didn’t know that his past had come back And they weren’t afraid to shout at him loud. They said, “You’re a jerk! You’re not very nice and we’re tired of all your bad crap.” He looked at the group with awe in his eyes Be he was smart to keep shut his big flap.
Tauten your tie put on your vest No being furtive just be your best Creativity abounds a human response like bread needing yeast never kneaded enough The whole of your being like dough in your hand you sculpt yourself perfect to be such a man.
In the middle of trouble Where nothing makes sense A fool will be pious But to his defense The drunk at the bar Is quite erratic you see With dirt clod fingernails Never silver money The heat of the moment When one should take flight Sometimes refuses and imbibes in a fight The alchemy there In the core of his brain Is like a carnation After icy cold rain Physics should surmount The bright gold lit light Is really a senseless Brainwave from the fight A snack will help fix The untimely glow on the poor drunkard’s face As it’s part of the show A ticket to nowhere Will be true, you see Is where the barfly Should put his money.
As a pedestrian here, alone on my way home to my condo on this glorious day I think to myself in my tirade of thoughts all of my nots and all of my oughts My old house was cobalt, a bright brilliant blue splashed with a strange yellow-orangey hue I’d comment some more on the relics inside Since I honestly have nothing to hide But to bore you to death is not what I think So I’d rather you sit and relax with a drink I used to think I was the center of earth Entitlement was the sum of all of my worth My apartment was grand but empty as hell The rest of my tale, I might as well tell I had no love life, apart from my cat An old catty man-child, or something like that My cooking was sparse, take out boxes abound That sat on my table, since no one’s around The laundry was dirty, except for the socks No one wants dirty feet, or feet cut on the rocks Of the path that leads here and to other homesteads I could continue my tale, but will go home now instead.
A reminder to those who are too shy to ask that bliss only comes when aspersions are gone from a too humble mind that a certain one knows and a banshee who’s out on the lawn. Meek is not bad when a maiden is seen pouring milk from a bucket’s small spout Keep up the good work and encourage your mind Quietness honors the Peace felt about.
Can anybodyjuxtapose the difference between a flush of cheeks or blush of wine or what they really mean? The crimson that is found in wine is caustic to the fruit The winery can tell you how it isn’t easy to compute But diligently waiting I listen to the man like a mushroom on a rotted stump where the sunlight doesn’t span I find out what it’s made of this wine I drink so fast I barely even notice how much time has really passed. I rise up to my feet and say thank you for the wine And thank you for the lesson My time with you was fine.
Taking a sabbatical of all the urban strife Feeling quite unsatisfied with such a negative life I took my leave and grabbed my cap, the one of fox and hare tantalizing life beyond, heading for nowhere The beginning was unscrupulous, my faith was sourly teased But thinking of what was to come put my mind at ease A snowmobile up on the lake in North Wahnapitae was perfect on this winter morn to start a gorgeous day A mouthwatering lunch was next, upon the oozing snow A maid was there to help me fix a legion on my toe Feeling better now I could say “Oooh I feel so good” I took myself and made my way back to the snowy wood. I found a little fairy there to share my newfound youth But left me when she realized she wouldn’t get my tooth I bid farewell to her and then I got back on the sled I feel I had fulfilled my dreams as I drifted off to bed.
A cute little terrapin in a striped and oval shell Satisfied his hunger in a way he knew real well He started at the bottom ignoring smarmy rants Waiting for his turn in the queue Understanding circumstance Heading to the pinnacle, determined he would win A beam of light excited and invigorated him For at the top of the peak there stood a tiny bug He thought it over eagerly and waited for a hug. The little tiny Chutzpah had made it to the top Now his short and tired legs knew that they could stop.