In a tiny allotment right next to the zoo
A miniature jungle was planted and grew
The flora was dense and the air became hot
But confined to a tidy rectangular plot
An unthinkable  duo of creatures converged
And it's said that a spanking new species emerged
For a curious beast was reportedly seen
Roaming and munching on anything green

Make haste! Away! It's the Buffagorilla!
A shredder of lettuce and cereal killer
With hooves at the front and hands at the rear
The Buffagorilla is near!

It shambles about at the darkest of hours
On hedges it crunches and bunches of flowers
On daffolil bulbs and petunia petals
With hearty aplomb on a cluster of nettles
Covertly perusing with maximum hush
It can wander through gardens disguised as a bush
No carrot or parsnip is safe in its bed
And the marrows are quaking in vegetable dread

Depart! Retreat! It's the Buffagorilla!
The broccoli butcher and vegetable killer
With ape like features and horns of a steer
The Buffagorilla is near!

So if you hear a mention of butternut theft
Or notice a garden, all bare and bereft
Insure your potatoes for damage and loss
Give the salad a purely precautionary toss
For a creature is roaming the byway and track
With its legs at the front and its arms at the back
And it might be your gooseberries or chervil he spies
So I beg you take heed as I once more advise

Be gone! Take flight! It's the Buffagorilla!
The strawberry napper and cucumber killer
Just hide in your cellar and steer well clear
The Buffagorilla is near!

My Life is a Scratched CD (OR Blue Collar Lament- The Little Napper Remix)
Lines taken from poems by JM Romig (Ursa Somniculosa/CD Skipping Down Route 11) and Ryan Kinney (Blue Collar Lament)

It's long drive on this highway
The window creeks
- its jagged way down
I breathe in the new air for the first time in months
the CD starts skip-skip words
Hopping over - lines
Reminding me
Of finite fuel
repeat-
finite time
With work looming just hours away
repeat-
Death, just decades away

I spend most of my week
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
on repeat
in a semi-conscience trance
watching multi-million dollar machines work

repeat

in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock

skip

They are more alive than I am.
Monday at 3 PM I click off my brain,
switch on automatic,
repeat
automatic
skip
- the countdown:-T-minus 40 hours.
Each minute that ticks by
in the dull monotony slowly steals my sanity,
bit by bit

Each minute closer to Friday
slower and slower,
until on Friday they seem to tick
backwards--

skip

I have coworkers
who insist that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net

Each day blurs into the other
making them indistinguishable.
Repeat-
My finite time
Monday,
the entirety of the previous week
on repeat-
T-minus 40 hours.

skip

they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear

In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat-
Death - just decades away.
The dictator they put in charge of the asylum
barks out commands on cue,
just to remind everyone that they own you.

skip

The desperation for dollars
are the shackles that keep me here.

I often welcome sleepwalking:
I think of Emerson
On repeat-
Skip-
I think I feel like his transparent eyeball
repeat-
His eyeball-
I begin to understand
I begin to feel like I'm one with everything
skip-
everyone is love
repeat
love
every-Everyone is me
and you
skip-skip
-the impending coma

In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened.
At least as a zombie, I don't feel
my mind rotting
repeat

the rotting constellation of dirt,
chipped paint and cobwebs:
Ursa Somniculosa
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock

on the weekends I love life.
I shed the identity the uniform has forced upon me
and my true self emerges--
repeat
my finite fuel

In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat
the desperation for dollars
I truly only live two days a week
repeat
my finite time
I'm dying the other five

skip-skip

I think of Ursa Somniculosa -
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -

NOT being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
on repeat

High up on the far back wall
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock

I have coworkers who insist
that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
but they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear

Ursa Somniculosa,
or, as the layman may call it
the Little Napper

No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -

not being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here

I'm a peripatetic napper aka a somnambulant philosopher... who is prone to salubrious somniloquy aka hammock rapping, on a variety of savory subjects such as which parts, leaves, petals, stems, peels or fruit of the lilikoi and guava families make the sweetest and most healing teas... for example, I sense that you can swallow this soporific soliloquy straight or with some surf, salt, sea and sunshine and skip the sleeping pills indefinitely..

Adorable, black furry divine
With soft coat, shining so fine
Barely two and half months old
Brought it home on wintry cold.

His eyes beholding, sparkling,
He in our arms cosily cuddling,
His drowsy yawns enthralling
His movements, cries marveling.

Five months puppy soon
Heaven sent, a real boon
Friendly, graceful and playful
Muscular and very powerful.

Mood enhancer, happiness bringer
Our canine aptly named Winner
Furry pawed, with a furry exterior
Beneath, an utterly amazing interior.

Well bred, well trained, a looker
Loyal, gentle, handsome Winner
Symbol of trust and patience
Furry friend known for jubilance.

Winner's choice, my little boy
Forever running, jumping, to enjoy
Both definitely each other's toy
And undoubtedly each other's joy.

Nose driven, very nice napper
Waggy tailed, insect inspector
Nimble footed, munchy muncher
Winner, entertainer and energizer,

Hanging ears, so sensitive
Eyes expressive, so active
Our hunting, sporting companion
Our sniffing, rescuing champion.

His soulful eyes, full of affection.
But soon came his health deception
Suffering dreadful tumor, infection
All  endeavours for his protection.


He spoke but with passion
To who knew, how to listen
Our canine, God of fun-frolic
Suddenly silently melancholic.


Our firmest friend very sweet
Winner, a heartbeat at our feet.
His arrival, profound happiness
His passing away, sheer sadness.


Winner's oblivion, few decades old
His special memories, we still hold
He orbits in an unknown universe
In his memory, these lines of verse.

@Preeti Pathak

Come ye to the meadow of the tooth
Lay down, take nature by the hands
For Autumn is braking aloof
Come join us at the meadow of the tooth

Blackwater invites us to view
The abundant bounty of our youth
Rope swing is first for me
Watch out your napper is near that tree

Break out the picnic full of choice
Scream out your pleasing celtic voice
We leave nothing there to see
Except warm memories of the birthday glee

Theres a man who walks around with a hole in his head( right through); You can see whats in front from behind him and whats behind him from in front. Sometimes I follow him so I can see whats up ahead. Funny thing is, he never turns to look as if he's being followed; I always turn and look, more often than not no ones there, but when there is someone there I can feel them, their stare burning into the back of my napper, he just carries on blissful.
One time I tapped his shoulder then darted ahead, that was the first time I'd had a look at what was behind. I stared right down the middle and right on through to the young school girl skipping behind him, then I quickly paced off to avoid arousing suspicion that I was in any way mocking his condition. Anyway, he caught up with me and passed me with a " How'd you do, young man?, to which I nodded nervously, then followed him further through the city.
We reached kelvin bridge, where he stopped about six feet ahead of me and sighed full heartedly, I almost felt the wind come out of him. He turned to me and winked, and then began laughing like a manic would prey, " Ohh ** ** **. Ohh you don't see it! Neither do I?" he either asked our told me, " but it's all ******* there, every last ******* bit: The ******'s carpet, the first time mothers first *** after quitting, the wheeler's turning, the dealers loot, its all ******* there, and its all us that see it". I looked over to see the soft crashes of the river below, the whispering breath of the wind shifting the old tree's around the banks, and thought " What the **** are you talking about?"