Ponies are cool.
they can have wings
and soar through the air,
or they can have horns
and use magic.
Or they can be plain
and still be just as important.
There are a lot of good things
about being a pony.

but ponies don't have hands
or feet
and they live in a matriarchal society.

I like being human
because we have hands
and feet
and live in an equal society (sort of)

we don't have wings
so we make them.
we don't have horns
so we make best with what we have.
all of us are more or less plain
and that makes us equal.

there are a lot of good things
about being a human.
and I am glad to be one.

The hull is full of skeletons but I cannot prove a thing,
so instead I'll heave around the lines and softly start to sing.
Perhaps they'll send me to the brig
or have me dance a gallows jig.
but either way, I'm here to stay
until my body fades away.

So fellow sailors start to chant, I want t hear your voices.
They mean more to me than you will ever know.



*I'll be gone for a while but I'll be back...

this little girl made a great big wish
to fill the world with happiness

and she was delighted
when anyone smiled
she'd place hand to lips
and feel their mouth twist
and give her own gap-toothed grin in the moment

some eyes showed pity
others pride
some even wept
with their talker upturned
but those little fingers
only registered joy

for that little girl was blind

As though the breeze would carry
Her words across the sea
Right from within this cosy bower
To some far away places
And be heard also in the palace
Of the Queen of England,
When she whispered to me--my grand--
Delightful dame, in the raw:
"Art thou a one-trick pony
In play, my stallion honey?"
"Nay!" quipped I with guffaw.
I can mount fore and aft,
Thy fount, as it's apt.
Then did I turn on the shower--
The showers of blessing on her with care
From the station she did to me declare.
And therefrom I did hence perspire,
Besides, in deference to her soul's desire.

Those Hamm's didn't drink themselves.
No more lighting incense on your shelves.
That bed is a ***** one my friend.
The bridge burnt, you watched the fires end.
And there's been a thing or two, written on that wall.
And a thing or two more, before paint covers it all.

I am Jaguar Paw.

Three delightfully key words: 'miser miserable able' - One's miserable from being a miser until he's finally able.

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it, for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
    Lest the wise world should look into your moan
    And mock you with me after I am gone.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.