Chunk, The Chocolate King

**********

He’s not hollow,
He cannot melt,
He can hop like a jackrabbit,
Though he’s got no flesh or bone or pelt.

**********

Oh what a hand he was dealt,
The very first chocolate rabbit,
That one-hundred-thirty-five he is now,
Is not even felt.

Created on a whim,
In an old store-room,
He was a sight to behold,
And caused a new tradition to unfold.

When his campaign was done,
The evening of Easter, 1890,
As soon as the store was locked,
Away he hopped.

That chunk of chocolate,
Ran off like a rocket,
Before he could be melted or dumped,
And it so happens he ran through,
A patch of magic dust,
Blowing by on a gust.

And never was he ever,
Heard from again,
That is,
Not by men.

But when little bunnies say their prayers,
He is the angel,
God sends that way,
And gladly he watches over,
The little dears.

He is ever so big,
And lives in his own,
Hidden grove of figs,
Far from humans,
And their modern rigs.

There’s a hollow in a hill,
Under tree number four,
Covered with a green trap-door.

Carpeted steps lead down,
To a hardwood floor,
In a giant room,
Fitted just for him.

When he first ran away,
From that window front,
In P.A.,
This is where,
He chose to settle,
Hoping no one would find him,
And see fit to meddle.

What’s he been up to,
The last how many years?
Well he calms the fears,
That reach his ears,
From the above dears.

Then makes millions,
Of mini-mes,
In his factory,
Across the street,
Under tree number three,
Which he distributes to stores,
Shopped in by people,
Like you and me.

His brand is exceptionally fine,
And bought to be indulged in,
With fine whiskey or wine,
Oh! Look at the time!
Go and get you one,
Before it’s time to dine!

His life-size bunny plushies,
So many try,
To make their products as perfect,
But theirs all lack,
When compared to the ones made,
By this aristocrat.

**********

Only once,
Did someone think,
He was to eat,
When he was lounging under,
Tree number one,
To get some fresh air,
While avoiding the sun.

But they broke a tooth,
And on him,
Not a mark was left,
So they were forced to flee,
Without a chance,
Of committing the theft.

**********

(I Couldn’t Have) ……….But He Could And He Did

If it were me,
I would have fled,
Before a single,
Drop was shed.

The power was there,
To disappear,
But that guy doesn’t get scared,
So it didn’t take long,
Before he was,
Beyond repair.

If it were me,
None of us would be free,
No way would I,
Have born such misery.

Dripping blood,
And crunching bones,
Torn up flesh,
By whips and stones,
Degrading and shaming,
In inhumane tones.

If it were me,
I’d have run back home,
And left the world,
To die without,
A chance to atone.

**********

So He was dead,
And had a tomb,
Instead of a bed,
Some people cried,
When he died,
Then almost had,
A heart attack,
When He shocked them all,
By coming back.

A super-sized stone,
Was rolled away,
‘Til again He saw,
The light of day,
And with that for us,
All debts accrued,
By sin got paid.

Easter, Taken Seriously

**********
A long, long time ago,
A man-child was born,
Until he died,
Just a few decades later,
Crucified,
His head adorned,
With the crown of thorns.

But he was only dead,
For three short days,
He came to be,
Alive again,
And now to this day,
For the saved’s sins he pays.
**********

Free?
Free is for me!
That’s what they all say,
Until it comes to the deed,
That happened that day,
At Mount Calvary.

Then instantly,
It’s question this,
And argue that,
I’ve never seen such hesitancy,
For something completely free.

It’s uncanny,
Weird indeed,
This requirement of proof,
People need to concede,
That this ordeal,
Happened for real.

So disgraceful,
And undisputably unacceptable,
Misunderstanding this day,
As meant for that rabbit,
Rather than this lamb,
Will see you damned.

Oh the chicks are cute,
But can they give you,
A new life to boot?
Who doesn’t like a beautiful basket,
Full to overflowing with chocolate?
But will it get you,
Life beyond the casket?

**********
Think, think, think!
Life isn’t short,
Truth be told,
It’s very long,
Not gone in a blink,
Like you’ve been programmed to think,
But it’s lived mostly,
On the other side of the veil,
Spent in Heaven,
If here on Earth,
We prevail.

Going once,
Going twice,
Salvation is nice,
Won’t you accept it tonight?
**********

Brand New Year

By this time next year,
May it all have came to pass,
By this time next year,
May tears have turned to laughs.

The doors that need to open,
And the doors that need to shut,
May they swing in the right direction,
To spring you out of your rut,
And knock bad on its ass.

The ones that need to come,
And the ones that need to go,
May they make their presence known,
In with the chums,
And out with the scum.

The demons plaguing you,
And the angels protecting you,
May they align with God’s plan,
For you to seek deliverance from devils,
And become a willing vessel.

The bad cravings,
And the good inclinations,
May they take their proper place,
The good becoming concrete,
And the bad sprouting feet.

The things you love,
And the things you hate,
May they not affect you unfavorably,
Your loves being beneficial,
And your hates not interfering with fate.

Fact

**********

Happy Easter!
He is risen!
So it’s your own fucking fault,
If your heart and mind remain imprisoned!

I bet you’ve heard since the cradle,
About God and his Angels,
How a beating and some bloodshed,
Made it so you’re able,
To keep on living once you’re dead.

**********

Eggs and candies,
Put in baskets,
With plush chicks and bunnies,
Delivered or hidden,
By a fictitious rabbit,
Has become the modern day,
Holiday habit.

A way to show remembrance,
To the man who wore,
That crown of thorns,
To the Friday night fight,
That was foretold,
To take his life,
But through God’s might,
Came out alive,
On Sunday morn.

**********

A week before the first Easter,
Jesus arrived in Jerusalem,
And the people acknowledged him,
By throwing palm branches,
Hereby declaring,
Peace and victory’s coming.

Dogwoods and lilies,
Not the most commonly known,
But they’re symbolic to Easter,
Showing there must be someone,
Up there on a Throne.

The wood made the cross,
Where near the lilies sprung up,
As Jesus hung there,
These along with an empty tomb,
Were the recipe that made rebirth,
Possible for all,
Who walk the Earth.

Now we have butterflies and lambs,
Emblems of Easter,
That convey this same thing,
Crucifixion and resurrection,
For the forgiveness of sins.

We make hot buns,
With a cross on top,
And eat them the day,
Our not-yet-done sins were bought,
Buns in which even,
Their seasonings have deep meanings.

On Easter’s Eve,
A big beeswax candle,
Clearly marked,
Stating the cross,
As being Beginning and End,
Spreads God’s light,
To all in attendance that night.

Who knew baby chicks and new outfits,
Share similar significance?
……….Both define new life in this instance.

**********

Now we’re all blessedly able to pass over,
The old timer’s traditional,
Passover sacrifice,
Because when Jesus died,
Becoming the Lamb of God,
There was no longer need,
For the ritual to be applied.

**********

The Little Chick Had To Fly

I’m a little yellow chick,

Who once worked alongside,

The Easter Rabbit,

I helped him decide,

What to put in all the baskets,

I really tried,

But it did not suit me,

So I took a ride.

I hopped a train,

And got off,

At its tenth stop,

Where I ran into a cop,

Holding up a blue umbrella,

‘Cuz it was pouring down rain.

Being a chick,

From a Fairyland,

I could read,

So I found a sign,

Telling me I was in the Big Apple,

How divine!

I took up a residence,

In Central Park,

Where I made friends with a frog,

Who hangs out,

With a loud crowd,

We sometimes like to trip,

People out for a jog,

Or startle a dog,

And make him bark.

One night while out,

On the town,

I got an idea,

Out of the blue,

And on each chicken leg,

I got a tattoo,

One is a lion,

The other is a lamb,

Man I’m loving the city,

And my legs so pretty!

I became very fond,

Of the hustle and bustle,

And the worldly ways,

But I still kept Easter,

In my heart of hearts,

Though I made room too,

For other things to have a part.

I eventually built up my place,

Into a regular chicken mansion,

That was very handsome,

Full of furniture and such,

Of the latest fashions.

Now I realized I had,

Too much time on my hands,

So I took a job,

At a hotdog stand,

Where I heard lots of music,

And got interested,

In joining a band.

So my frog friend,

And the rest of our circle,

Got ourselves up our own band,

We played Christmas music,

And our frontman was a turtle,

Oh how this would make,

Those Easterland Creatures lose it!

The years flew by,

Full of fun and fortune,

’til by and by,

I was feeling my age,

And decided to,

Live life with more caution.

That was so many years ago now,

A quarter – century,

To be exact,

That time stuffing baskets,

Is just a distant memory,

Now I work in a factory,

Machining parts for weaponry.

I still go back for Easter,

If I didn’t,

Dear old Mr. Rabbit,

Would have my keister,

I can now appreciate these weeks,

I spend there,

We have a great parade,

Before delivering all the baskets,

Then come home to a smashing party,

And spend hours eating,

And dancing to delightful beats.

But fun as it is,

I’m satisfied,

That I spread my wings,

I’ll never regret,

Doing my own things,

I’m always happiest when I’m again,

At my own dreamy den.

Think Before You Speak

Earl was an eccentric little rabbit,

About which,

Everyone made quite a racket,

He was as ordinary as you please,

Really a lovely fellow,

But there was always talk about,

Him wearing a long black jacket,

And his strange love for eating jello.

Some squirrels say his jacket,

Is to aide him in black magic,

He’s not normal,

And he must be up to tricks,

But the otters believe,

It’s just his blameless lucky charm,

And fits naturally to him,

As much as his own arm.

The rest of them,

All have their own view too,

So I feel I ought,

To clear things up with you:

He’s a fuckin gem!

His many weird habits,

Make him unlike the other rabbits,

Like when he ventures out of the woods,

To stock up on people goods.

While he is gone,

Others quake with fear,

As their minds produce some crazy thoughts,

Of things he may be getting up to,

He just buys innocent things,

Like spinach and whiskey,

And lugs them back,

In a big black sack,

But he keeps his doings on the down-low,

So they get freaked out,

By what they don’t know.

He’s quite the early bird,

Each morning he happily wakes,

Then after putting the coffee on,

Heads outside,

Where he does a wild dance,

And the onlooking deer deem him absurd,

As they look on in a trance.

It’s not totally that tragic though,

See these deer don’t know,

He’s saying some words,

That encourage their meadow grasses to grow.

He won’t partake of his coffee,

Without first reciting a good-luck phrase,

That his mother used to hope,

Would be just a phase,

As it made her hair raise.

I’ll give you that,

Yes this could be a tad odd,

But it has done things amazing,

Like preventing a carelessly tossed match,

From setting their whole wood ablaze.

He grows alfalfa and carrots,

On all sides of his cottage,

And enjoys watching their progress,

During an evening sit,

On his wrap-around terrace.

It’s said he does strange things,

While out there each evening,

The Old Owl is always watching,

And says supposedly his lips move,

But put forth no sound,

And his crazy hand motions,

Have been told of for miles around.

In reality he’s just humming,

Relaxing himself with a merry tune,

While tapping his arm chair,

With his ice cream spoon.

Today he outwitted a tiger,

And stopped him from terrorizing a spider,

The truth’s still being sorted out,

Of just how that came about.

Orlando the Owl swears,

That last evening on his porch,

He saw him do a dance,

While swinging ’round a torch,

So it must have been a spell,

How else,

He asks,

Could he have made a tiger fell?

Truth be told,

If he could have done such a thing,

He’d rather use such excessive powers,

To fill his pockets full of gold.

Sunday is his fun day out,

One week he’ll go here,

And meet an old school peer,

For a game of solitaire,

Another week he may go there,

In search of a new cologne,

To spray upon his hair.

Sandra the Sparrow speculates,

That he does evil on these dates,

Why else,

She says,

Would he wander out so far,

Without taking his flashy car?

But he is not at all about Hell,

She does not know what it is she tells.

Here’s the truth:

He’s out there having fun,

Dodging busy noses,

As they’re trying to find out,

Everything under the blazing sun,

That he’s ever done.

Do you maybe have an Earl,

Somewhere near to where you are?

Are you maybe being less than fair,

While you sit there judging,

From your high and mighty chair?

That Crazy Bunny

They call me Easter Rabbit,

And I’m a creature of habit,

I’m around for just a day,

But when I’m gone,

I haven’t really gone away.

Where I go,

It is a secret,

But know it’s a happy jolly place,

And when I reappear next year,

Be assured I’ll have made pretty eggs,

To fill each and every basket.

Me and the other bunnies,

Keep production flowing all year long,

At the end of a long day,

We tell each other funnies,

While passing around a bong.

To quell your curiosity,

About our residence,

It’s an operation and a home,

Kind of like the North Pole,

Except instead of Christmas,

We’ve got Easter in our souls.

Though we have similarities,

To Santa and the Elves,

Our businesses have differences,

That reflect our holiday preferences.

Carrot cake is baked in place of cookies,

We manufacture eggs instead of toys,

And though Santa’s Deer,

Are some great boys,

To teleport,

Is more my sort.

I’m not nearly as picky as Mr. Claus,

Whether you were naughty or nice,

If you celebrate Easter,

I’ll deliver you a basket,

With my own paws.

You’d think after five hundred years,

I’d be too tired to wiggle my ears,

And zoom from place to place,

On that one day out of every three-sixty-five,

It seems the whole world,

Wants to see my face,

But I never feel frazzled,

I’m happy to keep up this pace,

As long as the Earth whirls ’round.