..............................................
Now, don't be too surprised
If he itches a pop,
If he plays that kazoo
And refuses to stop.

And don't be too surprised
If young Atticus hoots,
If he hides all his homework
Deep inside his boots.

Sometimes he'll just ittle
And knittle and beep
Until he decides it's
A good time for sleep.

And sometimes he'll just crow
Like a rooster at dawn,
Long, long, before
We turn the coffee pot on.

He doesn't mean to be
So very odd,
To be labeled a jester,
A clown, and a cod.

He doesn't mean to be goofy,
It's just his way
Of waddling through
The green-blue of his day.

So, if you notice him squiggle,
Or fiddle a twitch,
Or skip through the beetlebugs,
Chasing each snitch.

With Atticus Arbuckle,
There isn't much new,
It's the only thing Atticus
Knows how to do.

Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler

...............................................

Have you ever heard
Of the Ikinzoo Owl?
Or the Blue-Bellied,
Tozzle-Moffed Took?
Have you ever seen
Even one Pflittleflufly?
Or haven't you fancied
The look?

I doesn't take much
Just to sneak a quick peek
At that Flue-Feathered,
Bottle-Plumed, Katydid Beak.
And it won't mind it a bit,
If you take that quick look.
And will probably never remember
The look that you took.

Those Dopple-Doed Daw's
From North-Eastern, South-West,
Are as easy to find
As a Beezle-Bugs Nest.
They have no sense of direction,
They haven't yet found
If the up part is up,
Or if the up part is down.

And the Wickawhitz Thumb
From northeast Timbuktu
Does things even a
Tozzle-Moffed Took will not do!
It will shimmel its feathers.
It will pittle and twittle
Its toes and its nose
Quite a lot and a little.

It will twitchel and itch,
And pretend to count sheep.
It will scuddle its pib,
And then snore in its sleep.
It will build up a nest
Til' it's outright absurd,
And the Wickawhitz Thumb
Isn't even a bird!

Now, the odds are so odd,
And the chances so high,
You've yet to see a
Many-Eyed Itch wander by.
Many-Eyed Itches are
Quite a rare find.
To find one you'll need luck
Of the luckiest kind.

In fact, the odds are so odd,
And the chances so slim,
You'll never find more
Than a spot and a whim
Of half a half Itch
As it hides in the din
From the Monstrous You
As you come barging in.

I am not at all sure
If you've rationed a thought-
Or considered that Fuzzlenut Gnit
A whole lot, or not.
They are never a bother,
And they are always at play
A full twenty-three hours
Out of the day.

The Sap-Sucking Snizz
From the Coasts of Mahktall
Are not too hard to find.
Oh no, not at all.
They're everywhere, everyplace,
Sucking up sap,
Just before and right after
They've taken their nap.

And have you ever heard
Of a Twizzle-Toed Toff?
Who's toes twizzle so often
They cough and they cough,
Far into the morning
And then right before bed?
Hacking and hooting
Til they're red in the head?

No?
Why, I'd have guessed that
The answer was yes.
I'd have fashioned an awful big yes
As my guess.
Twizzle-Toed Toff's
Are not rare, not a bit.
All you do is look, and you'll see one
Lickety-split!

And the OggNogging Fitch,
From the Island of Soe
Who only nest in the shades
Where the Kurutta winds blow.
In places so high
They are covered in snow,
In places abandoned
So long ago.

Then have you ever heard
Of the Buggle-Nosed Snodd?
Or the Green-Eared,
Three-Headed G'Nute?
Have you ever seen but one
Popple-Topped Phfiss?
Or a Fugel-Flocked, Many-Horned,
Nevel-Winged Pflute?

Have you ever heard of
A BarBerry Duck?
It's a barmy, odd dabbler,
And with a wee bit of luck
You can find one, or three,
Near that old BarBerry Loam,
In an old box of tea
That they tend to call home.

Have you ever seen
A Greenbean Wildersnitt?
The kind with plumed feathers
And a bobble on it?
You haven't? Well, that is
A terrible shame, such a pity,
To have never seen even one
In our fair and fine city.

Have you ever heard
Of a Fuzzle-Eared Fligg?
The oddisly odd
Fuzzle-Eared Fligg from Zinnzaire?
This Fuzzle-Eared Fligg
Is the pick of the crop
If you ever plan a trip
To the way, way out there.

It seems rather selfish of me
Then to selfishly ask
If you've ever heard of
A Nozzle-Nosed Flask.
A little pest of a bird,
Should you ever find
One of those Nozzle-Nosed Flask's
Taking up all your time.

It seems hard to believe,
And I can believe quite a bit,
That you've yet to see
A Greenbean Wildersnitt.
Or a Tozzle-Moffed Took,
Or a Popple-Toffed Phfizz.
It is a little bit odd,
Yes it is. Yes, it is...

To have missed every Twozitt
That skittles the sky,
Or that Hippillopottomus Bear
That oft wanders by.
And the Pflittlefluefly that
Whispers by on the breeze,
Leaving their Pflittlefluefly-fingered nests
In all of these tree's.

And to have never seen
An Ikinzoo Owl hoot and howl,
Or a Webb-Footed
Gobbtrotter trott.
Seems you're missing much more
Than ever before,
For you've been missing
A respectable lot.

You must be walking about
With your Pog-Goggles on,
The ones that go Beep!
Whenever you yawn.
And I am ever so certain
You have yet to discover
Perhaps you!  Oh, yes, you!
Are not at all a bird lover!

Copyright © 2010 Richard D. Remler

...............................................
“From there to here, and here to there,
funny things are everywhere.”
-Dr. Seuss
...............................................

I remember when I was a young
Teenager
I use to sit at home by the phone
Waiting for my boyfriend
To call or my best friend
We would talk for hours

Then came the good old
Answering machine
And we didn't worry so
Much about a missed call
But then we had to skip through all
The bill collectors

Then the pager the
Pager was the shit
You would get a beep and
Go to the nearest
Pay phone and call
Who ever beeped us

And then came that huge ugly
Car phone they were
So ugly I did not even want one

Now we have the cell phone
The very thing that
Takes away
That look in your eyes
The smile on your face
The warmth of your
Arm around my shoulder
And the kiss of your lips

I have tons of guys now
They only want to sext
And see pictures
And they now are rude
And have no morals
Or politeness

They are no longer shy
And sweet
And respectful
I don't blame them
I blame
Technology

Peace will forever hunt my dreams
because i call him every night
and i'm greeted with his answering machine
"Peace is not here, peace is not there"
beep
if i left a message at the tone
i'd get a busy line or hear the operator drone on
but that's getting somewhere right?
peace is never home
it seems
everytime i call war answers the phone
peacefully
he sits by it never leaving it alone
crying in between disappointing phone calls
writing letters
putting pictures on milk cartons
and writing poems
searching for his long lost friend
wondering why
peace never made it home