Bright red lips
Taking sips
As poisonous as apple pips

“Follow your dreams!” Said the sage
“But what if you wake and they’re gone?”
“Well maybe you’ll soon come of age?”
“Or maybe I simply have none!”

The years soon past and enlightenment never came
Maybe the wise man was wrong
To rise every morning always the same
No direction for moving along

“Reach for the stars!” said the sage
“But what if I can’t see the sky?”
“Maybe it’s only a stage?”
“Maybe I can, if I try!?”

Well time ticked by but the stars never shone
Maybe the wise man was wrong
Had those pin ****** to heaven faded and gone
Or just never there all along

“What should I do?” said the youth
“Follow your dreams!” I replied
“But for you it was never the truth!”
“Well maybe the old sage had lied?”

Since all my thoughts became entwined, I find it hard to pick one out
Since all my words have muddled up, I cloud my judgement with self doubt
Since all my lines have merged as one, I find it hard to even think
Since all my poems sound the same, I think I'm probably wasting ink

I think I’m still moving on
Still writing music son
I’m still righting wrongs
Still writing songs
I’m still singing like nobody is listening
Even when everyone’s listening
I’m still moving rapidly
I’m still when I need to be
But I think most importantly
I’m still me..........I’m still me

This bull's horns are oily
Alas my hands just slip
How am I to seize the day
If I cannot get a grip

I remember when poems were good not **** like this!

I nibbled my apple right to the core
But my lunch box was empty, I still wanted more
So I thought, what the hell, there’s no one around
And I chewed it all up and swallowed it down

Upon the next day on my way back from school
The bus had broke down, I felt awfully full
We were all simply stranded with no help in sight
I was going to burst I had to alight

Now my house wasn't far, a ten minute walk
But I just couldn't wait and I hadn't a cork
So I slide down the bank to a spot underneath
And when I had finished I found me a leaf

Now ten years have passed and right on that route
Stands a proud apple tree all laden with fruit
So just with my bottom I managed to grow a tree
And now reminisce with my poo-a-tree poetry