Like a solemn
blossom,
he makes his appearance,
this hindrance,

in my rooftop,
with a flip-flop,
in cherubic
outfit,
oh so tiny
and limy!

This perplexing
cherubim, mixing
beams and a pigment
from a distant
perfection,
shouts 'action!',
up on my rooftop!

I climb the immense
leather
in my underware
- oh what a brilliance
of a ****
homemade!

I say 'salutations,
in this christmas' occasion!',
he moves backward,
the makeshift,
and then forward,
in his heart a lift,
engorged,
in my beauty scorched!

As his host
I had started a toast
but went speachless
finding him flightless,
for a wingless cherubim
was he...!

But it's Christmas,
so in ranges
we had some oranges
and tequila,
for pain healer.

On my rooftop
as a isthmus,
oh gods of Olympus!,
we hear a pop,
a cackle,
stars as sprinkles
of kringles!
- Oh oh, is it Santa?!
- Oh no, it's my Claus...!

A hair fell from my eyebrow
and landed in my eye,
it caused my eye to water
just like when you cry.

I cleaned it with my finger
which made this small hair slip
it landed underneath my nose,
just above my lip.

I hadn't noticed where it went
it lay there on my face,
and over time it rooted
and then multiplied this place.

I started scratching at the spot,
I thought I had a rash
but when I looked more closely
I found I had a moustache.

It was as I point out to you
protruding out of the skin
and spread out over many days
and now its on my chin.

I know I didn't have a rash
and it was as I feared
I never only had moustache,
now I had a beard.

This spreading still continues
and I don't think that it's fair
for from my head to toenail
I am now covered in hair.

I've tried so hard to cut it off
and every time I fail
but what is really worrying
is now I have a tail.

So if you see a hair that's loose
and resting on your face
I do suggest you take it off
before it grows some place.

Cause when this hair gets rooted
you see how it can take over
and it is so embarrassing
when people call you Rover.

I don't know what is happening
but when I'm in the park,
I run around, I lick my nuts,
I growl and I bark.

I grieve to run from the man with the gun but I must.
I guess I just figure he's to light on that trigger to trust.

He wouldn't think twice in fact he'd rather rejoice to shoot me
So I'd sooner take flight, scoot off into the night to be free.

Who is this guy who would see me die? I'm not sure!
But while he's around I will be underground, insecure!

I just know that I think that there is a real link and he's wise.
And he knows what I took he could see by the look in my eyes.

He was engrossed in the thrill as he fed on his **** in the park.
And he couldn't see me standing behind that tree in the dark.

When my camera did flash I then made a mad dash to the rear.
Out of harms way is where I want to stay, not in fear.

It was my big mistake to take a picture and break for the run.
I can't ever be free for he's following me with a gun.

Something that I must face is I am now in the race of my life.
With a picture, that failed I cannot get him jailed, now that's strife.

For my chaser don't know and he won't let me go, it's his new thrill.
For the Reaper you see is coming for me and will ****.

So I run and I run from the man with the gun aimed at me.
I will bob and I'll weave, there's no place I won't leave to be free.

To avoid an attack I'll grow eyes in the back of my head.
But I can settle nowhere because I do not care to be dead.

I know he wouldn't listen even with my admission of no proof.
He would still load that lead into the back of my head, that's the truth!

Do you ever feel anxiety?
Do you ever feel ashamed?
Do you ever feel the thoughts you have are sometimes quite deranged?

Are you all okay with everything that flows around your mind?
The words that come alive through you do they seem quite unkind?

Or do you err with caution and try not to upset
The ones who read the words you write and so your work you'll vet!

Sometimes they might need steering towards the point you make.
Sometimes you want to frighten them, or make their poor hearts break!

Your genre points the way for you and you try to make them see.
The message that you write about within your poetry.

Some point out the choices that we aim for in this life,
Whilst others try to show the world in all its weary strife.

The rights and wrongs of lovers, governments and greed.
Whilst others write about the things we all need to succeed.

But whether you script horrors tales or tell of someones plight.
The most important thing you do my dear friend is write!