I keep strange hours when I'm awake.
I live forever sleeping in my dreams.
I drink black coffee in between it all
'til I'm bouncing off the wall.....
I Spin one up
and smoke a bit of green.

Magic mess-less scrambled eggs
and chicken that won't go away
No matter if you change the name,
twenty four seven, three sixty five a year....
There's chickens in my ears!

Then I do the things that Roosters' do
shower shave and even poo
and depending on which morning
(there's three for me each day.)
I might have a beer or two
(rollin' up another doob')
Then find the freaks who comprehend
Poetry is meant to bend.
Obviously oblique!!

And does this serve my intellect,
it's not unique.
Every kind of artist
is some kind of freak.

I read my writes with great delight
and seek the kindness of your words each time.
Then I peruse the posted faces
I don't really surf
it's more of a cruise
goin' through the paces.

Meditating on the colour blue
and the higher math by the bunny path
where one plus one
is never only two.

I check my mail without fail
in hopes to find a backpack worthy soul.
Climb inside my little rhyme
by leaving bits of self behind
in letters that are crossing space and time.

And all the gems that I've collected
will make for me
a bigger piece of you.
It's true.
It's what I do.

My room is full of mental faces.
Some are givers
some are takers
and some are real
when they are fakers
but I never am alone!!

So leave a post or a note
and with love
I'll safely store you
in the hand made backpack....
that I  tote, with me.

Roosty