The bow/
is how/
and the right way/
to ride the ferry.
Out on a tree’d hill he stood,
walking in the buggy grass;
never caring he was that good;
never thinking to place high in his class.
‘Neath scaled hickories without effort
(it seemed), he read, wrote, studied.
With his cousins on and in X’d videos he’d cavort,
whether the paths were pulsing, dry or muddied.
He sparred with great wit and thought
as he discussed, with authors, literature.
He pondered and argued upon what he got
from reading ancient and revealed Scripture.
At last, now, as BigEP reaches a good childhood’s end,
Let us salute the brain’d heights of this Salutatorian!
Head into the field/
after summer rain. Reap sweet/
rewards for your pain.
You can’t expect me/
to live creatively if/
I must do fact checks.
OR
Don’t expect me to/
live spontaneously yet/
deliberately*.
*deliberately. adj. 1. Done with or marked by full consciousness of the nature and effects; intentional
My early life seemed always
to play the same old song.
I lived a decades-long phase
where I was told “You’re wrong.”
Everything I did or said
was corrected or changed.
It at last went to my head.
I felt foolish and deranged.
In my effort to change my life
I took another way.
I dumped corrective strife.
It seemed foolish to stay.
Now I see the truth of my strange and weird way:
I’m at last honest. Now I must be certain of what I say.
When you’re lying in the clover
on a sunny Spring day,
you need not mull problems over;
the world seems far away.
Take off your shoes;
lay down your blanket or quilt.
Cast off your troubles and blues.
Relax yourself without any guilt.
Let your heels connect to Mother Earth.
Grab the moment to fee the sun shine all around.
Drink deep of harmony, peace, joy, healing, mirth.
Harvest insights deep and profound.
Your’re shadowed cuz your sweetheart nuzzled up to your face?
Enjoy the warmth of it all. You’ll never find a better place!
When Dixie’s daughter/
Comes back from Christmas up North,/
I sing “Thinner Bells”.
*Sung to the tune of “Silver Bells”
Thinner Belles!
Thinner Belles!
it’s Christmas time down in Dixie!
Not much snow!
fewer clothes!
Soon it will be Christmas Day.
In Wisconsin
they’re all bundling
trying just to keep warm
that you can’t even see what they look like.
Past Mason Dixon
they’re all fixing
to show off their form.
With no snow suits or parkas we’ll cheer!
Thinner Belles!
Thinner Belles!
it’s Christmas time down in Dixie.
They’re so cute.
No snow boots.
Soon it will be Christmas Day!
Dig holes. Plant trees. Will/
they grow? Wait and see. It’s a/
good allegory.
Men stand, beer in hand,/
looking, bored, stage-ward, while their/
women dance hot. Why?
Oh shit! They fit so/
anatomic perfect!/
I don’t want to know.