he won't shut up
when he's around
he wants to write everything
keeps on formulating phrases
hallucinating
couches into flying carpets
swearing that he's seen
the ground from the sky

The Poet
we never know what he's doing -
turning black sheep
into heaven
he's stuck on the inside
looking out

The Poet
he won't shut up
but when I really need him
he's no where to be found

when he wants what
he wants
in these poems of his
I know I'll wind up
embarrassed humiliated and forlorn

The Poet
when he's around
he won't shut up
he keeps going on and on

And when he's gone
Silence.

If I was a dolphin, you'd be the shark eating my fin

If I was a hare, you'd be the hunter killing for skin

If I was a bee, you'd be the kid that crushes my wings

If I was a bed, you'd be the jumper who breaks my springs

If I was a shoe, you'd be the gum that stick to my sole

If I was a lego, you'd be the dog that eats me whole

If I was a child, you'd be the wind that blows me away

If I was a poet, you'd be the thoughts too wicked to say