Chunk, The Chocolate King

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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.

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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.

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(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.

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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

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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.
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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?

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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?
**********

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.