Not Quite Utter Nonsense

That cow jumped over the moon?
Cool,
But this one here,
Leaps over a lagoon.

One natural barrier,
To the other,
She’s done it so often,
It’s created a crater.

In her mind,
There’s a monster behind,
And so she makes her way,
To the other side.

But then,
Oh! Ah!
The thing has not gone far!
So it’s back to the opposite shore.

Back and forth she goes,
‘Cuz that thing’s so chilling,
Though unseen,
It’s crippling,
The way it’s nasty and mean.

**********

The best place to start,
Has always been at the beginning,
It tends to keep,
The mind from spinning,
Which makes a mixed-up feeling.

So here we go,
It’s time to let you know,
What started this cow,
Living such a shit-show.

**********

A few miles out,
From the mainland,
Is a tiny island,
Where there’s a circus,
Aboard a boat,
That doesn’t float.

It sits on the ground,
Where people come,
From miles around,
Just to hear the sounds,
And see the sights,
Of animals trained in tricks,
And walking proud.

As part of the show,
A cow bows low,
Then gets in a watercraft,
And begins to row.

One day a little baby cow,
Which the ringmaster,
Had recently acquired,
Was told that her training time,
Was starting now.

“Fuck this”!
Thought she,
“From this horror show,
I must flee”!

And so she thought right quick,
Of an escape,
“Because why”,
Said she to herself,
“Should my life be a disaster,
To please that stubby and pudgy,
Unpleasant ringmaster”?

“I wanna be petted and spoiled,
Fed and groomed well,
By someone who’s loyal,
And give chocolate milk,
For royals to drink”.

**********

Soon she put,
The wheels in motion,
And managed quite nicely,
To find her freedom,
By taking a swim,
In the ocean.

She headed towards,
A neighboring isle,
Off in the distance,
A couple of miles.

She thought it seemed,
Small and secluded,
But upon her landing,
It was large and prosperous,
Having vast fields,
Of open grass.

**********

Now this missing animal,
Caused the ringmaster,
To see red,
When he noticed her absence,
Soon after rising,
From his bed.

So being the type,
Of man he was,
He made a rash decision,
And called in on,
The local magician.

Then these two malicious men,
Wrote a revolting charm,
On a piece of paper,
With a magic pen,
And together repeated it thrice,
At the count of ten.

Now there’s a terrible tormentor,
Attached to her,
Causing this bizarre behavior,
But she’s about to get deliverance,
Following a coming,
Supernatural occurrence.

**********

For warring angels,
Are headed that way,
They’ve been waiting all day,
For nightfall,
So they can end this,
Once and for all.

Now it’s dusk,
About the time,
The little cow,
Usually loses her mind,
And these angels surround the lagoon,
Singing one of,
Heaven’s own tunes.

Before very long,
Here she comes,
And the demon,
Along for the ride,
Is sure as shit,
About to feel,
A change in the tide.

As usual,
She’s wild-eyed and prancing,
Because of that thing,
So menacing,
Then all of a sudden,
She’s stopping cold,
And her eyes don’t roll,
Due to the invisible aid,
Of the angelic barricade.

**********

And that was the last time,
That devilish creature,
Got her goat,
And overtook her.

It’s said total deliverance,
Can come from a song,
And apparently,
That’s not wrong.

That’s The Best Blossom

It’s an immense field,
Full of flowers,
But you can pick just one,
Never let the wrong one,
Say “I won”.

Don’t settle for,
Second best,
Walk to and fro,
Weaving through the blooms,
Until you’ve found,
The only one,
Who will pass the test.

Is there one flower in the field,
That won’t ever wilt and rot,
And is there a surefire way,
To tell if it’s,
The one you’ve got?

Go stand in the middle,
Then spin slowly around,
See them all,
Before you carefully choose,
So you don’t lose.

Front and center,
Or waving from the wings,
Lying face down,
Or sitting on the ground,
Sporting a smile,
Or wearing a frown,
Only one of them,
Isn’t a clown.

Select one who won’t wilt,
The second it’s picked,
One who will survive,
When taken from its home base,
And placed in a vase.

Not the one who dies,
The second snow flies,
Or the one whose petals fall,
From a little bug’s brawl.

Envision Something Sensational (It’s Not About Coffee)

Caffeine dream,
You’re being hunted,
Caffeine dream,
You’re being pursued.

Caffeine so warming and awakening,
Perfect following a dream,
Where time was spent,
Away vacationing.

Caffeine dream,
You’re needed now,
Caffeine dream,
The only word for you is wow.

Caffeine is addicting,
And the dream you are,
Is a happy place,
An amazing grace.

Caffeine dream,
You’re in high demand,
Caffeine dream,
With you I stand.

Caffeine courses through veins,
Like a shooting star,
And in a dream you can swing,
From that star by a string.

Caffeine dream,
You’re an essential,
Caffeine dream,
You’re needed for survival.

Caffeine gives off energy,
And when it’s been spent,
That gives way to a dream,
Soothing and serene.

Caffeine dream,
You’re everything,
Caffeine dream,
Without you there’s nothing.

Caffeine lack,
Can cause a wicked withdrawal,
From which a dream can pick you up,
And fully revive you.

Caffeine dream,
You’re found now,
Caffeine dream,
You’ll be retained somehow.

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.

**********

No Wonder He’s Fat

What kind of cookies,
Did you leave Santa this year?
And was there milk,
So they could be,
Washed down properly?

**********

Were you the one,
Who cut out all those angels?
And iced the sugar dough,
With the pearly white?
Then sprinkled on,
The iridescent sprinkles?
Just wondering,
Because he sure devoured those.

Were you the one,
Who mixed up a world-class batter?
And added in,
Every flavor of Christmas chip,
Ever known to man?
Then rolled them in powdered sugar,
To look as though,
They were covered in snow?
Just wondering,
Because he sure raved on those.

Were you the one,
Who made men of gingerbread?
Then baked them to,
A golden brown,
And took time to dress each one,
With piped icing and candies?
Just wondering,
Because he sure fancied those.

Were you the one,
Who made them so light and fluffy?
Then colored them minty green,
And even made them taste,
Like peppermint sweets,
Before mixing in,
Some chocolate treats?
Then dusted them all,
In powdered sugar,
Giving them,
That happy holidays look?
Just wondering,
Because he sure took to those.

Were you the one,
Who twisted red and white ropes?
Then carefully shaped each one,
Into a candy cane?
Before shaking on the red sugar,
That made them extra festive?
And to finish them off,
Made red and white frosting for dipping?
Just wondering,
Because he sure went crazy over those.

Were you the one,
Who made such beautiful butter cookies?
Perfectly round,
Looking like cheery tree ornaments?
With the extra-large indentations,
Baked in every center?
That housed all different flavors,
Of jam mounds?
Just wondering,
Because he sure ate major amounts of those.

**********

He lives for this night,
And any you make,
Will help energize his flight,
All will be eaten,
Without a fight,
But some give him more,
Of a delight.

Christmas Delights

One reindeer,
That we all know,
Has a magic nose,
Not this one though,
This one here’s,
Got magic toes.

Toes polished green,
With sparkles like,
You’ve never seen,
And a mouth that’s both,
Sweet and obscene.

Sweet and obscene,
Is an odd, odd mix,
That makes him not a favorite,
Of Santa Claus,
But Mrs. Claus,
On the other hand,
Thinks he’s the fairest,
In all their land.

That far north land,
We call North Pole,
Where the main phrase,
Is ho-ho-ho,
Doesn’t have much room,
For a naughty deer,
But Santa’s wife,
Doesn’t mind a wee bit of strife,
She says he’s a dear,
And her perfect pet,
Throughout the year.

Each and every day,
He comes to her kitchen,
When he smells the cookies cooking,
And she gives him some,
Then they eat them together,
While she sips her rum.

Her peppermint rum,
And chocolate milk,
Is a favorite there,
For it’s smooth as silk.

Silky though,
It may be,
Her pet doesn’t much like it,
So she humors him,
And let’s him have a drink,
From the kitchen sink.

Drinks from sinks,
Aren’t the only way,
She spoils him rotten,
In front of her fire,
He has a big bed,
Lots of fluffy blankets,
On top of soft rugs,
Made of braided cotton.

A thick cotton comforter,
Covers him up,
When he hits the hay,
And he snores away,
For quite a bit of the day.

When day breaks,
He’s awake,
At the crack of dawn,
Delivering the cookies,
With candy canes,
And that minty-spiked milk,
Up and down every lane.

Such stunning lanes,
They have in that land,
From the packed and popular,
Modern lane called Main,
To the ones on the outskirts,
Where the roads are dirt.

The dirt outskirts,
Are lit up like tiny towns,
Decorations and lights innumerable,
Each enormous property,
Seems to set new heights,
And the lanes downtown,
Dazzle the eyes,
Because they are so bright.

Bright and pretty,
It’s Christmas all year here,
At times for Mrs. Claus,
The rest of the world,
Is pretty much forgotten,
For she paints each day,
Painting landscapes and portraits,
Is her hobby,
But you don’t know that,
It’s supposed to be secret.

Secrets here are many,
And we aren’t supposed to know any,
It would take away from its appeal,
If it became too real,
And then Christmas wouldn’t have,
Its special feel.

That feeling of quaintness,
Requires special maintenance,
Even Twinkle-Toes knows,
So he likes to help,
By putting on shows.

Shows that feature all the reindeer,
And trees and stockings,
As well as all the other Christmas things,
That get taken for granted,
But here in North Pole,
Are kind of enchanted.

And enchanted they must stay,
Which isn’t easily understood,
But if you ever get by that way,
On a Christmas Eve,
When Santa is away,
His missus,
Will show you ’round their ‘hood,
Her and the one,
With magic green toes,
Will dance their way down the roads,
Leading the way,
Pointing out all that’s charming,
But be aware,
As some shit’s alarming.

Bored Bobcat

The night is cool,
The feeling heavy and blue,
And Honda is wired,
Rather than tired.

Honda is a bobcat,
Whose best friend is a muskrat,
Tonight when venturing,
Down to the water,
He saw the most fascinating fire.

Excited was he,
Until he saw,
The space around it not free,
But instead full of people-
Oh, how shitty!

Where, oh where,
Was Muskrat McCaw?
He could sure use his help,
For these humans must beat it,
Though none broke the law.

‘Cuz he can picture it now,
Right before his eyes,
His deer and rabbit friends,
Getting roasted and toasted,
And his own pond of friendly fishes,
Getting plucked one by one,
Then made into fancy dishes.

Off he trotted,
Staying concealed took care,
But it was a must,
For it would be bad to be spotted,
He knew McCaw was ’round about somewhere,
And he’d hurry to help,
Run these fiends off.

Luckily,
McCaw was at home,
So Honda didn’t have,
Very far to roam.

The muskrat lived along,
The river bank,
In a little domed hut,
With an underwater door,
That was never shut.

Tonight,
When his friend arrived,
Puffing hard for breath,
With sweat on his chest,
He was sitting outside,
Gnawing on some leaves,
That had been dropped by the breeze.

“My friend!
A mile down!
We have an appalling group!
Come!
Let’s make ’em drown!”

McCaw gave up his munching,
In favor of laughing,
And in between peals,
He said with zeal,
“There again goes you,
Always exaggerating and hating”!

It took some minutes,
For the muskrat to calm down,
Enough for the bobcat to speak,
And then they devised a plan,
Which would make those peoples scat.

**********

Now of course those peoples,
Were just having a celebration,
And happened to choose,
That for a location,
So they could swim and eat s’mores,
Knowing that their fire,
Was safely away from the shores.

**********

And so,
Off they went,
The muskrat and the bobcat,
Off to make,
The peoples scat.

There was a woods that ran,
Along where shore met land,
And when they got close,
They sheltered there.

The two watched,
With wondering eyes,
As the people put,
Things on sticks,
Then set them,
Atop the fire,
Until by the flames,
They were licked.

They let them blaze,
Until they had a black glaze,
Then blew them out,
And stuck them in their mouths.

Honda crept,
A little closer,
Sniffing the air,
Trying to tell,
What they were cooking over there,
But it smelled like no meat,
He would usually eat.

McCaw,
Who ate no meat,
Sniffed the air,
For there was something,
Delighting his senses,
But he could not place it,
As something he had ever tasted.

**********

Hotdogs and marshmallows,
Were on fire over there,
Being scarfed down by the dozens,
And Honda and McCaw,
Though not knowing what they were,
Decided they must get some,
And didn’t think to worry,
Of repercussions.

**********

The fire was crackling,
And the peoples were laughing,
Dipping cups into coolers,
Then pouring from big bottles,
And drinking down the contents,
When two unexpected visitors showed up.

Those hidden two had inched,
Until they silently joined the party,
And now sat there staring,
Drooling as they licked their chops,
Hoping not to be stopped.

But stopped they were,
Stopped right in their tracks,
By a man in scarlet swimming shorts,
Positioning at them a pistol,
No longer now,
Was the atmosphere blissful.

But neither wild animal,
Had ever seen a gun,
And didn’t know,
The man wanted them to run.

So there they sat,
Still amidst the group of peoples,
Assuming it was anytime now,
They’d get to share the vittles.

Some in the group,
Were scared into silence,
While others grabbed sticks,
And tried to join in the violence,
Until all at once,
Someone who’d had too much,
Awwwwwed at their cuteness,
And then at them rushed.

Stunned was Honda,
As he was grabbed in a hug,
By a raving drunken lady,
As was the gun-wielding guy,
And the stick-picker-uppers,
So no one noticed,
As McCaw moved over,
To quietly inspect and try,
The excess food,
The peoples had set aside.

A few minutes passed,
And the lady backed off,
Going for a little snack,
For her ‘new pet cat’.

Off she went,
Back to the far side of the fire,
And what a loud wail she sounded,
When she saw the muskrat’s tail!

For she thought it was,
That of a rat,
And you know how some can be,
When a wild rodent they see……….

Hearing that,
The gun-wielding man,
Turned his sights that way,
And let a round fly,
Thinking there was no time to be sly,
If he were to prevent,
Anyone else,
From joining his fireside.

But oh!
All he did,
Was knock over the cooler,
And off came the lid,
Spilling the contents,
And seeing the commotion,
To them McCaw ran,
To take advantage of this opening.

He was soon joined by Honda,
Who purred loudly as he ate,
Both stuffed themselves,
To their heart’s content,
And when they turned around,
There were photos being taken,
That later got sent,
To the news on Channel 7.

No one has since been able,
To have a lakeside gathering,
Without these two for company,
Kindly remember to bring extra,
For they’ve both got bottomless bellies.

The Unicorn

For as long as anyone could remember,
It’s said a unicorn,
Has lived on the mountain yonder.

When was he born?
And would he ever die?
Was he maybe a myth?
No that can’t be,
Because some say he’s been seen,
And not just in visions and dreams.

He’s said to be really pretty,
With chocolate hair,
And flaxen points,
With the added flair,
Of a glittery silver horn,
Poking out from the forelock,
That is rare.

Some say they’ve seen him,
In the settlement,
At the bottom of the mountain,
Parading through the streets,
On his four fancy feet.

Legs lifted high,
As he trots,
Hoofs that match his horn,
Pound the pavement,
Each and every morn.

Or so they say,
But it’s happened that multiple people,
Have been in the same place,
At the same time,
And while some swear he whipped by,
Others saw nothing,
And say with an eye roll,
And a sigh,
“They must have been high”.

Many were sitting outside,
At the cafe,
On a morning kind of gray,
When one of the aged,
Said to her grandchild,
“Look at that horse!
It’s that one from the mountain,
Said to be wild”!

But……….
“What horse”?
Asked the small girl,
Standing in her chair,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Of that horse of course.

“That one”!
Exclaimed a young man,
One table over,
“See, he’s just stopped!
Check him out,
Before he runs”!

Now the whole patio,
Was in a turmoil,
Three more could see,
But no others,
And there must have been at least thirty.

The little girl,
Still could not see,
And told grandma stubbornly,
“Your advanced age,
Must be making you crazy”.

“For I,
Not yet quite nine,
Have sight far better than yours,
Which I’m sure is fine,
But definitely no better than mine,
So come now,
Sit down and dine”.

But grandma ignored the child,
For all the five,
Who could see,
Were torn between,
Laughing with glee,
And wanting to turn and flee.

Because the unicorn,
Was a sight to see,
Flaring his nostrils,
And pawing the ground,
After rearing up,
Then coming down,
But his eyes seemed more docile,
Than hostile,
It seemed he was having fun,
Watching the goings on,
Then just like that,
He turned and again,
Began to run.

“Oh look at the tail”!
Shrieked a little boy,
One of the seers,
“It looks six feet long”!
“Yes! It’s marvelous indeed”!
Grandma agreed.

The twenty-plus,
Who saw nothing,
Didn’t know what to think,
So soon all,
Ceased to speak.

Poor them,
Blind to the unseen realm,
Yes they were,
The majority,
But wrong they were,
And thankfully,
Didn’t cause a stir.

Now back up on the mountain,
The unicorn headed,
So he could get rested,
It was always so tiring,
After a morning run,
But it was also fun,
The reactions of the peoples,
While running through their streets,
Past shops,
And places to eat,
Placed among schools with bells,
And churches with steeples.

The unicorn,
Whose name,
By the way,
Was Horn,
Didn’t realize,
That most of the peoples,
To him were blind.

He got a kick,
Out of the excitement he caused,
Not understanding,
That a debate,
Had been ongoing,
Between those who had insistence,
Of his existence,
And those who had persistence,
That he was a fable,
Made to entertain,
At bedtimes and dinner tables.

He just knew,
That everyone became unbridled,
When he strolled through the city,
Yes it caused a commotion,
That made him laugh,
As he played it in his head,
All day in slow motion.

The tale of Horn,
Will continue to be told,
Throughout circles,
Both young and old,
Most believing it fiction,
But an esteemed few,
Know that it’s true.

Christmas Season Secret

Such essential accessories,
Take a picture with one,
For memories,
Hang it to be seen,
Season after season,
For no reason.

Do you suppose they feel froze,
When the wind blows?
Or do they enjoy being on a door,
As part of your holiday decor?

Vibrant evergreen,
Round and full,
Embellished with bells and bows,
That ring and blow,
When the weather brings,
Wind and snow.

Did you know,
At the far eastern edge of town,
There’s something supernatural,
At Christmas time,
Where any wreath hung,
Can communicate,
As though they’ve sprouted a tongue?

And they can see,
As though they’ve got eyes,
And they probably do,
They’re just not seen by you.

It’s mystical,
It’s unbelievable,
Remarkable,
And wonderful,
The way they tell the elves,
Who’s been naughty and nice,
While just hanging there,
Sparkling amongst,
The lights and ice.

What?
How did you think,
Santa finds out,
What you’re about?
Did you assume,
He’s all-knowing like God,
Or maybe finds out,
By committing fraud?

**********

I guess this is a shock,
Learning a piece of tree,
Can see and talk,
But please,
Don’t mock!
Things aren’t always,
As they seem,
Look beyond a surface,
And you may discover,
Dreams, screams, or schemes.

**********

Shock Of The Century

How are you doing lately?
Hanging on by a thread,
Why’s that?
Because I feel like being dead.

Oh no! – Why?
Because that one’s been sly,
Doing what?
Turning his back, making me cry.

Oh! The nerve!
I hope he gets what’s deserved!
Same here!
Although that’s also my fear!

How so?
Because I never chose,
For him to become foe,
Oh, indeed?
Yes – for real,
I rather picture him,
As a knight with a steed.

That sounds like quite the conundrum!
Yes, it’s a problem!
Whatever will you do?
I shall pray,
For he’s one of the precious few.