Shel Silverstein and Roald Dahl
Live just down the hall
From each other
Somewhere in my mind

'Cause these ***** old men
Are known to have penned
Many favorite kid books of mine

But they also worked blue
And wrote more than a few
Naughty songs, novels and rhymes

They stayed true to their style
They'd go the extra mile
Their ****'s guaranteed to blow minds!

Last night, I was exploring sensuality
******* an inkling at the basis of reality
Nibbling the earlobe of the next global catastrophe
Can you smell the Earth as she moans in total ecstasy?
The Universe reciprocates and ******* a galaxy
We're all in this together
And not inconsequentially

I'm busy busy busy
I'm late I'm late I'm late
I've got to meet a rabbit
I've got to meet my fate

For if you trip and stumble
And take a long long fall
You might take some comfort
In the writing on the wall

It says the cakes a lie!
The roses never were red!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
The last words that they said

There's no time for fantasy
The world's out of hand
Visit Alice another time
Curse that wonderland

We're living in the matrix
Dot dash, dot dot dot dash
We just have to accept it
As we wait for it to crash

One foot in and one foot out
Abstractify, you lazy lout
Yes, I'm sure reality's an illusion
But I can't afford to live in confusion

She looks so cute
In her shiny new skates
She grins so big
Tying up the laces
She's so happy
Going circles round our room
Her little *****'s hangin' out
As she goes zoom zoom zoom
Happy birthday babe!
(A month early, at least it's not late)
I love you so much and I'm sorry
You hurt your **** falling off your skates.

I caught a whiff of you
In your cloud of tobacco
It was a soft, subtle smell
Enough to call me back though

It tickled my nose
and my other senses
It wasn't floral like rose
It was just your pretenses

There was lavender burning
But that wasn't it either
It was sultry and raw
I don't know why I bothered

I couldn't rest my finger
I don't know what it was
Perhaps it was your eyes?
Burning down our love

I like to sit and think and stare
At that spot, on the wall over there
As I listen to the pitter-patter
And wonder if anything really matters?
Fancy a game of shoots and ladders?
Up and at them, let's get at 'er.

Last call, last shout
Last drop till the last drought
We had our chance
And we're all still blowing it
Here's the line
Who will start towing it?
Sink or swim
It's time to start rowing it

We're all standing on
Broad shoulders of greed
We all grew up dependent
on disposable sneeds
Woven from the tufts
of the Redwood trees

But it's not our fault,
It wasn't you and me
It was some old grandstander
That we'll never see
Right...?

Well... Yes and no
And it only goes to show
That this house built of windows
Can't stand one more stones throw
So do we quit our jobs and stop driving?
****, I don't know...

We're past the point of blame
It's not all just a game
The more years you've got
The more hot you'll trot
Believe it or not...

So here's to the treaties!
Lower emissions and make it speedy!
**** all the billionaires,
Let's take care of the needy!

Too much to ask?

They never said it'd be easy.

The tree sitter of Nantucket
Lived in a tree and he dug it
He never went down
To visit the ground
So he would **** in a bucket

The sun is hot this summer
Like it was last summer
It's too hot to play indoors
Let's don trunks and sandals
For our journey to Turtle Rock,
It's not too far a walk.

Wild carrots grow along hot asphalt
We're chewing Queen Anne's lace
The journey offers time to talk
We talk and walk at our own pace
I see Mosby Creek through the trees,
We're getting near the place

Cruise down the path
Rotten egg's always last!
We're barefoot before the first bend
Look out, leaves of three!
Poison oak let us be!
Lay down our towels
We're here my friend

Me first! Dibs! I call the rope swing!
I shout, jumping over that tranquil spot
Y'know the one, where you go over the creek,
Because of that awkward rock
I grab the rope, run round to the edge
And launch myself sidewards right off the ledge!
Ker-plunk! Time to swim,
Summer's here, life begins.

Mr. Bojangles,
Contemplates the angles.
Modern minds infinitely entangle
Simple strings and fluid streams of thoughts
Are getting ******* in knots
Not in a naughty way, but in a party state
Where people get to tell the time to clocks
Skipping rocks
Across the surface tension, in your office
Chip your dips in the swivel chair in the corner there
Please
Excuse me
While I try to explain to these birds why they’re not free
On a wing and a prayer flag TV set
And I always forget to mention what’s relevant.

Boredom bored some,
but for the rest of us it became a lifestyle.

The rest of us,
who spend so much money and time,
on objects and gizmos...
Just to while away our lives.

And, on comfort!
If we're going to do nothing,
we've at least got to be comfortable
while we do it.

We've gotta work though,
gotta hustle.
The trick is finding that tipping point...
The Grand American Treasure:
To find the least amount of labor,
for the greatest amount of leisure!

So let's climb that ladder
Make money! Get paid!
So we can quickly and painlessly,
whittle away our days.

Y'know that feeling?
When your body is tired
and your brain is too
Not sleepy
Although you'd probably be out
Quicker than a toddler at nap time
If you had to lay on the cot
No, not sleepy,
Exhausted.
Drained.
Tapped out.
All the coffee in the world
Wouldn't stop those lids
From drooping
Even sitting, resting,
Takes energy
Energy that is
All but washed up
Running on empty
And you know
That you've got to wake up tomorrow
And do it all again.

I'm so angry
I'm seeing red
I'm screaming profanities
Inside my head
My blood is boiling
My ears shoot steam
I look like a cartoon
But I just feel mean
I just want to smash
Everything
I want to slam and curse
And rave and sing
All the songs that sound real mad
All the words that get out the bad
All the anger I've ever had
I want to roll it all
Into a giant ball
And destroy the ball
In front of you all
To burn up my anger
And watch the ashes dissolve.

He pushed the weight of the world
To the top of the milky way
And he leaned, and he sighed
As the world rolled away

He put the globe on his shoulders
As he prepared to climb again
He shrugged and it shuddered
Spreading fear to little men

Igby! Igby, my boy!
I feel it coming down on me!
This pressure, this weight!
Why can I not be free?

Some weights are corporeal
Like the dumbbells at the barbell
Tabs overflowing, drinks and meals
These simple weights are easy to quell

Then there are the really heavy ones
The ones no eyes can see
The ones that drag us down to earth
That make it hard to flee

Our words and obligations
All form a lofty load
We are all carrying something
Along our personal roads

And our roads, they go forever

But, to where?

No one knows...

The psychedelic outlaw had class
He had a kaleidoscope bow-tie
Accentuated with brass
His custom tailor three-piece suit was white
But now no more
For the swirls of patterns and colours
Would send him down in lore
His cowboy hat was paisley
His six-shooters painted day glow
And the guise he wore
Said nothing more
Then, “Hell, I’m ready to go”
For the pearly gates
That some await
Will be dipped in a neon glow
And his favorite band will be playing
It'll be one helluva show.

I've got a little black book, with my poems in it
I've got the wind to rock me to sleep
I've got a perpetually dying radio
That brings the news to me
I've got everything I need up in this tree
This tree I live in on my own
I've got books and **** and mobile phones
I've got a little two burner stove
I've got a bright new perspective
And every new day
I know that I'm not all alone
There are squirrels, and birds
And bugs up here
It feels like everybody is home.

I keep listening to time
Beating hearts and endless rhymes
And it all sounds so sublime
Much more real than the last wind
And my records just keep spinning
With the earth and every new thing
Now we're back to where we started
But it's different, clouds have parted
It made so much sense before
But every day it just makes more
Now I start to understand
As the sand falls through my hands
Making gestures small and grand
As we all keep getting older
Through the chaos and disorder
No sense pining in the oak groves
For the flowers that we once knew
At the bottom of our dark brews
Bitters floating on the surface
As I drink another purchase
And reflect upon the purpose
Of each sip as it slides down
Always forwards, never backwards
Only rising never pouring,
Twirling, twirling, twirling, soaring!
Doesn't matter if you're gripping
If you're sweaty, if you're slipping
If you're wide eyed, always tripping
We all keep trucking on
And I always feel so strong
Like I understand the song
Finally, but not for long

I've got a spot,
out there in the yard
It can sit, it can stay
But playing fetch is hard

I've got a spot,
where I like to spend my days
It takes naps in the sunshine
and together we laze

I've got a spot,
it can't run, it can't jog
But it's a very good spot
I think I'll call it Dog.

Hey there Mr. Natural
With beady eyes, long flowing beard
How’d you get to be so weird?
Is it as bad as we’ve all feared?
Hey there Natch’, where’s your stash?
If I share mine, can I have half?
Perhaps there’s another path?
Nah.
‘Turally, we’re all free
To be what we’re gonna be
So tell me Mr. Natural, what’s it all mean?
“It don’t mean ****, young man.”

The best laid plans,
like grains of sand
are swiftly streaming
through my hands

Don't get excited
don't celebrate yet
every time I do
I lose the bet

These vapid clichés
Shuttered plays
Days and days
Waste away
Into the endless
tangled fray

I had my happy coloured marbles,
All in a drawstring bag
I even had my wits about me
When they all said I was mad

I've since lost my marbles,
My wit's been licked it seems
I'm still searching for them
While you analyze my dreams

Now they call me mellow yellow
Since that slick spark has dimmed
No longer a manic madman
Calmed by my tonic and gin

Why does there always seem to be
An exchange, creativity for conformity
A need for insanity to be confined to brevity
And quickly quelled by righteous authority?

How incredibly wonderful and unlikely
That a universe so vast and mighty
Might bring about a sentient species
Capable of developing theses
Which attempt to explain space and time
Thus, the universe can observe itself
Within the consciousness of our minds.

'Twas brillig, when the wee sleek beasty
Did gyre and gimble in my fields
And ach! I feel but naught, but sadness
Plowing his home and stealing his meals

Hairy Jerry played his songs
Through the years
And trips so long

Hairy Jerry grinned and bared
Loved and laughed
and sang and shared

The heads looked up
They felt he cared
They loved their Hairy Jerry Bear

Now all the lot kids,
******* in bulbs
All agree that Hairy Jerry
Was the best bulb *****-er of all.

Skipping class, ****** off his ***,
Never showed and never passed
Teacher was teachin' it
But Dylan never needed it,
Writ to his own beat
And now he's free wheelin' it
On down the road
A heavy moss laden load
Sixty-one routes
And that stone keeps a-rollin',
The times keep a-changin'
The river keeps flowin'
Rainy day women
And legalized growin'
Bob cantcha spare,
A nickle or rhyme?
A solid gold medal,
Nobel poet sublime?
Sing us a song
Jingle jangle along
The Luckiest Wilbury
In the Wilbury throng
Singin' so right
It must be wrong
Keep doin' your thang
You'll never get gonged

¡uʍop ǝpᴉsdn s,ʇᴉ ʍoN
punoɹƃ ǝɥʇ ssoɹɔɐ pǝlloɹ ʇᴉ ʇɐɥ┴
punoɹ os s,nʞᴉɐɥ ʎW


      nʞᴉɐɥ    
  nʞᴉɐɥnʞᴉɐɥ
nʞᴉɐɥ   nʞᴉɐɥ
  nʞᴉɐɥnʞᴉɐɥ
      nʞᴉɐɥ .....................

I invited the band, to make strawberry jam
On top of Strawberry Rock
They asked me "What time?"
I said "Be there by nine."
They arrived promptly at one o'clock
But once they began, the sea kissed the sand
And the music never stopped.

I was up to my shoulders
Down in the hole
uncovering waste pipes
Outside your home

I said please don't flush!
Stop up all your drains
I told you I'd know
I thought you were sane

The pipe was wide open
Some water came down
A few little turds
And some paper came round

I asked you twice more
One time per occurrence
Each time it was gross
But I got your assurance

We got the job done
But it sure was a ******
The moral of this poem:
Don't **** on your plumber!

We've all got memes
Deep down in our genes
Passed down and passed out
Bursting our seams

There are memes in the air
Thoughts and feelings we share
Ideas spinning round
In the clouds everywhere

When was the first meme?
When two primates dared to dream
The same dream, the same things
Long before we had screens

I haz a bucket
A cheeseburger
A chair
I laughed and I clicked
I edited and shared

We're all forging memes
Fresh, new ones everyday
Memesmith is the role
That every poet must play

Memes are part of our soul
They're in our DNA

Stop, Drop, Rock n' Roll!
We built this city on cruise control!
It started with a seed and grew into a jungle
Where people grumble and boxcars rumble
It's growing up! It's growing out!
So honk those horns! And curse and shout!
**** these newfangled roundabouts!
There's a new billboard on every corner
Just signs and symptoms of the greater disorder
The cancerous urge to keep growing and growing
It will be too late when it finally starts slowing
So get outside! It's time to start mowing!
Before our urban yards start showing
Their wild side.

Wooden spoon, traveling along
A marvelous companion and friend
With knicks and chips and weathered bits
From all the places we've been
Wooden spoon, hand carved with love
Yet longing to be with the forest once more
Thus it fell, from my net
To the waiting forest floor

The crunchy time wheel runs fast and runs slow
The crunchy time wheel knows what it knows
Sometimes it's draggin' and ya feel the laggin'
Sometimes it's spinnin' and ya feel like yer winnin'
Where does the time go?
Does it sink or does it swim?
Is it flyin' or runnin' thin?
Is it hangin' after a Saturday night?
Or the heaviest heavy weight?
Ready for the fight?
Oh crunchy time wheel
Wheelin' along...
Oh crunchy time wheel
Keep truckin' on.

I watched a swallow tail, mackin' on a tiger lily
Just the other day, I saw it drink itself silly
Clinging to stamens, gently perched
Burying it's face to quench it's thirst
It couldn't get enough of that wonderful stuff
Sweet nectar hidden in bright orange folds
Spots on spots, colours so bold
I thought my friend had had it's fill
As it fluttered off it's delicate sill
But, nay, twas truly a thirsty one!
It needed another angle to get the job done
Fluttering up and around and then back down
What a beautiful moment, an **** sublime
Watching nature always eases my mind.

The cap emerged from the leaf strewn path
Doffing duff and dew
The Gnome blinked his eyes as he stood cap to cap
He knew just what to do.

Its cap was as red as the one on his head
With speckles as white as the snow
Some say it’s toxic, will leave you dead
But that’s not what the Gnomes know.

The Gnome knows it’s good, be it cooked or raw
That it makes a most potent brew
The Gnome got on his knees as he started to saw,
Thinking of mushroom stew.

My turntable doesn't have an auto stop
Or an arm that returns when the disc is up
So I have to be alert, conscious, and in tune
Less that scratchy white noise fills up the room

If I'm busy with chores, or out in the yard
A trench slowly forms,
Vinyl's soft, diamond's hard
But when I pay attention, I inherently know
Two songs left to go, one more...
Get up, flip and flow

My player might not be smart,
doesn't know when to stop
But it's got me programmed,
whether I like it or not.

I untwisted my brain today
And lay it out on the table in rows
Examined it for kinks
To see what the other thought thinks
To ask it what it knows.
I mushed it back together
But I couldn’t quite remember
What went where, or how it goes….
I squeezed it back in through my nose
And now my thoughts just flow and flow
Part of some muddled, mixed up show
All cause I examined my brain dontcha know.

Do you want to see inside?
I'm afraid you can't
It's too messy inside
I need that space to hide
All that useless junk we buy
And I haven't swept up yet
There's the corner where I cried
We had a stinky rat, but it died
That room's for my bride
That door is an illusion
It really leads outside
Circumnavigates our dwelling
There really is no telling
Why that portal lies
That's not a door!
It's a jar!
And it's letting in the flies
And they're buzzing all inside
My hollow head, which I call home
My brain is locked, the key's a comb
Please don't enter
It's not a house
It's a tomb

Once upon a time,
we lived in Shangri-log
It was hollow and cozy
and safe from the fog
We built us a kitchen,
out of sticks and stuff
We built benches and shelter
and swept away the duff

We were working on the hill,
early that spring
Away from our log,
when the bear gave a ring
He raided all of our salty snacks,
and even some of our liquor stash!
And all he left was a big bear mess,
and a pile of.. I'll let you guess...

So we learned our lesson, no more storing food
We cleaned up camp and life was good

But we had to return to our toil
Spreading horse ****,
amending soil
The next time we returned
to our big round squat
Something was wrong,
but we didn't know what..

We decided not to worry
and we had a party
We were lit up all night
and the sky was starry...
As the sun was coming up,
the time for sleep rolled around
But as we laid down to rest,
we heard a startling sound...
Beep! Beep! Beep! Filled the air!
And a churning of trees!
They were clearing the area,
We needed to flee!

We snatched up some things,
hid the rest in a stump
Our buddy was collapsing
his tent on the run
We got to the commune,
but no sleep would be found...
We all were uneasy about
bulldozers on ground

At the end of the day,
When the workers were gone
We dashed up the hill,
to check on our zone
Our camp was untouched,
Our things were all fine
But the brush had been cleared
all under the power lines...
And since our log was exposed, it was time to go
(I think we can take a hint, dontcha know...)

We cleaned everything up,
Tore everything down
Well almost everything,
Our old bed's still around
The years have gone by,
The brush has regrown..

It's hard not to wish we could live in our old home...

Hello poetry is not happy
Hello poetry is not well
Hello poetry is not healthy
Hello poetry's gone to hell

I see these thoughts and sentiments echoed
In different forms upon my wall
I feel it too as I click and stumble
As I watch and wait for the wheel crawl

I've only been here a little while
I like the format, I like the style
The thoughts, the words,
The shares, the smiles
But why is loading
Such an arduous trail?

Hello poetry's not so bad
I've got plenty of patience
Hello poetry doesn't make me mad
It offers me contemplation

I click, I stumble
I wait, I mumble
"502, the gatekeepers in trouble..."

Do I have to write a poem today?
And attempt forced creativity?
Or is it just another way,
To achieve some authenticity?
Art is art is art is art.
And yet,
People judge based on their own perceptions.
Expression is still truth, don’t forget,
And critiques help us make corrections.

The shortest haiku
Is quite similar in length
To the longest one.

Isbin has been in the old barn
Shalby shall be, after spinning yarn
Isbin and Shalby aren't often far apart
Isbin's been wastin'
And Shalby's been stocked
Isbin's been askin'
And Shalby shall talk
Isbin's been barkin'
and Shalby shall squawk
Bark and squawk
Peck and talk
and by and by
the barn's been bought
been bought and sold
to who knows who
and Isbin and Shalby
Don't know what to do

From the moment I saw this pretty girl at Ahli Baba's Kabaab shack I thought to myself "Oh my dear, I must be falling in love."
I just couldn't put my finger on it.

The last five years have been the most beautiful transition of my life.
No more waving my **** in the wind like a drifter in the dark.
When I'm with you I feel there is something right with the ways and the rules of the world.
It makes my heart go boing!

Standing here today, I know it's going to be alright. When the going gets tough from the get go we'll be there to scrape the mucus off of each others brains. I love your brains so much.

So, Honey Babe, in this tender situation, I vow to love you through it all. Good and bad. Thick and thin.
To keep plumbing for the man till we don't need to plumb no more.
And when I get home you'll never have to taste the waste.
If you'll be the bananas to my blow, I'll be your Johnny on the spot.

And most importantly, I'll always squeeze your tooter when you L.M.L.Y.P.

I love you so ******* much and if you'll have me I'm ready to stay forever.

Tick tick tick
My internal clock's ticking
**** **** ****
Why haven't I started working
One thousand words
Sure feels like a lot
I've got more in my mind
But it's hard to pen down thoughts
In the correct order
Clear and concise
I scribble on the borders
But I need to write
This essay is due
I might be up all night...