i said deer, deer! i didn't say rain dear or reindeer,
but anyway, where's my sledge and
boxes filled with presents?
i just looked like some madman running,
but then the animals were in too much stress
i had to appoint them a new rudolf.
<strike>( now the extra lines signifying
that i'm about to ruin a ****** decent poem:
as honest as it might be worth inquiring
to then only doubt... well, my heart
is still in a state of rhythmic crescendos that
just bulges into song for such depths
of experience, the thrill as if being the stag
leading them from one patch of forest to another:
basically i mean you experience the emotions
of doubt, and i'll just experience this.
no monkeys around to try and be tarzan,
plus it would have been traffic chaos,
as the two drivers on the road would nod to approvingly.
so women lie about their age,
and men lie about the date of birth,
so she gets all muddling puzzles reading a horoscope.
actually, you know what? i'm going to start
calling it journalism, every poet being the new journalist
exposing his private life, extremely
given the innermost of what they actually disseminate
thinking & feeling, as the two so far apart
that feelings give almost automatic thinking in
this medium, we once called poetry; why?
just because the word and art form originated in greek
does not mean it has to remain there forever.
bigmouth strikes again at the unsatisfactory edifice
of unattainable written expression of such emotion as shared
with the wild.)</strike>
well it was kinda funny, cos i was also holding a beer can.