was background,
music with a beat
from garlands gleaned
and sun for warmth
they lay there, silent
tangled arms, and hands
small weevils, other bugs
and spiders, crawled
slowly, leisurely on nude
and scarcely breathing,
wildly spent, soft limbs.
Though the idyll came to
a rather tragic, early end
when tractor sounds
approached at speed
and mammoth tyres
flattened him, the one
who, for a spider, was
the most enamoured
with the show he’d watched
from the beginning.
just needlemarks and drugs and clutteryou looked at me and mumbled ‘Honey’.I took you in and gave you fooddrew you a bath and dressed you wellat first you seemed a bit subduedbut later sprang from your hard shell.You took advantage of my agebecause you smelled my many richestoday I flew into a ragejust thinking of…
Some of us are colourblind,if they aim to go and findtasty beans, they cannot standveggies from a foreign land.It disturbs their inner manwho is certain that he canoutperform the ones who savouraccolades of lovely flavour.What he finds though in his rageon the world’s creative stageis a legume of renownbut its colour is pure brown.
of their small children so they’d livebut no one had enough to give.A pig, quite adequately sizedwas of the problems then advised,it wobbled over to the henwho’s napping in the chicken pen.‘So, have you noticed that the moodof people all depends on food?And Farmer Joe is very jumpylike all the others, also grumpy.’Said mother hen…
more thanfear itself.Much more.Billions spent,trillions sought,findinga cure.Soon,if you help.Getting evercloser,now almostthere,you simply musthelpto make itcome true,for you.Yet nineteenseventyfouras comparedto that fair yearjust passedshows that the fearis justifiedas ever.You seeno difference,just trillions spentin the pursuitof an elusivegaggle ofwild geese,but far to cleverand fed bypathetic ignoranceand human greed.
though very few do understandramifications of this noble substance.Imagine, if you will, a theatrein open air, the background fragrant pines.The stage is set with circles of straight chairs,there for the actors and the dignitaries, waiting.A goodly number is reserved for Serotonins,who share the limelight with the Dopamines,and now, the show begins, both do their thingwhile…
so the priest said ’tis fineI will open some wineyou go hurry, I want this bird dressed.Chestnut stuffing, a touch of sweet thymecut some slices of lemon and limewe shall dine like the kings(I shall give you the wings)for dessert we shall make a new rhyme.
