What Does The Wind Say?

Just like us with souls and goals,

It seems to have many sides,

Also expressed by voice,

Which we all hear,

Without much choice.

 

How good it feels,

Prancing across my skin,

As I’m outdoors soaking in sweat,

Working hard,

So as my needs will be met,

Still though,

That is not its reason,

To be out today,

It’s speaking a language,

Meant for one of its own,

Meant for another,

Of nature’s wonders.

 

Whether it’s letting out a shriek,

Or a sound almost meek,

I listen with interest,

And try to imagine,

What might have happened,

To spark its voice into action.

 

I hear it raging down the ravine,

I know it’s not talking to me,

But rather to,

The old oak tree,

Still I wonder what it’s saying,

The way I hear it howling,

It’s sounding mighty mean.

 

The other night,

It whipped around real strong,

Blowing in all directions,

Not letting up,

The whole night long,

Was it maybe forewarning a comrade,

Of some coming mourning?

 

During a storm,

Letting out ferocious gusts,

Could it just be playing rough?

Or is it emanating its power,

Over some rebel flower?

 

On a warm calm summer day,

All is still,

But the slightest whisper,

As it lightly puffs,

Not even strong enough,

To raise a cloud of dust,

Now where did that come from?

And why did it even bother?

Was it maybe murmuring some reassurance,

To the Mother Earth?

 

Down by the ocean,

It’s heard loud and clear,

In the lap of the waves,

Against the shore,

When its voice gets louder,

The waves pound fiercer and faster,

Showing the world,

Just whose voice here is master.

 

 

If Only I Could Raise The Dead

*************************

 

Forever grateful I would be,

If you would but come back to me,

Haunt my life,

Make it again worthwhile,

And bring upon my lips a smile.

 

Feel free to be a weekend visitor,

Or a constant in my world,

I’ll take anything my friend,

Just to unite with you again.

 

*************************

 

If you feel like coming home,

I won’t tell anyone you’re here,

So next time you decide to roam,

I hope you end up near.

 

Don’t you worry,

Your place has been saved,

Never to be taken by another,

Now what are you waiting for,

To knock upon my door?

 

I’ve heard that these things happen,

And I know if you appeared again,

Wrongs would right themselves,

And this life full of desolation,

Would soon be dazzlingly bright.

 

It’s a sure-fire bet,

If you’d show your silhouette,

It would brighten my days,

Better than Florida’s sun rays.

 

If you’re waiting on an invitation,

Well here it is:

“You are invited”!

And for more than a vacation,

I’ll see that the way is lighted,

If you be sure your journey gets expedited.

 

 

 

Creepy With No Name

She saw bright red eyes,

Following her,

And knew they must be part of a body,

Covered in fur.

 

She would sometimes speculate,

As to whom or what they belonged to,

And she made quick to navigate,

The well-worn way,

That over the years,

Her feet had trod,

Over the sod.

 

So many things,

Could be the owner of such awful eyes,

And so many reasons they could have,

For using them to spy.

 

As far as she could tell,

She was the only one who went this way,

And so she settled on the sentiment,

That the way was haunted,

And the Thing was not,

A Thing Heaven-Sent.

 

For how could it be a human being,

When the eyes in its head,

Glowed such a fiery red?

And when it was out,

Only when most peoples,

Were abed?

 

A werewolf?

A demon?

A possessed fellow human?

Tonight,

Thoughts of what it was that lurked,

Ran rampant through her mind.

 

*************************

 

Dinner-time was long past,

And getting safely home,

Past that thing that roamed,

Seemed a barely attainable goal,

And even more so,

When she heard that feral growl.

 

Assuming it to be The Thing,

With adrenaline,

Her blood began to sing,

She was frozen in place,

Then before too long,

Something raced and filled the space,

Between it and her.

 

Nosediving into a boulder,

Smashing her face and shoulder,

She thought herself done,

And expected any minute,

The Thing would tear her to pieces just for fun.

 

She could feel it,

She could hear it,

Something sniffing around her fallen frame,

She lay all still and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was a crazy riot.

 

After nearly a minute passed,

She ventured to open her eyes,

And then,

She got a big surprise,

For there,

Right there in front of her,

Not more than twenty feet away,

Were the bright red glowing fiery eyes!

 

*************************

 

And through the immobilizing fear,

Her mind began to work again,

Why was it,

She could still feel her aggressor’s breath,

When she could swear that was he,

Right there up ahead,

And slightly to her left.

 

But there was not much time for theorizing,

For whatever was sniffing at her,

Was too drooling now,

Like she was steak and fries,

And the red eyes just leapt through the air,

Headed right towards her,

Oh now!

What else was going down,

In this living nightmare?

 

*************************

 

And so there was a wrangle,

Between the one actually evil,

And the one mysterious,

With devilish eyes,

And would you know,

She was in for a surprise!

 

Indeed,

An entity did reside,

On her path,

But it had defeated,

The one who had left her mistreated!

 

 

May You Rest In Peace

*************************

Come,

Take a leap,

And fall asleep,

Enter Dream Land,

Where reality can’t hurt,

But fantasy can……….

*************************

 

Destination: Dream Land,

It’s a second reality,

That hides behind the mask of sleep,

It’s a mixed-up mess,

With Sweet Dreams and Nightmares,

And of course,

We’ve all been there.

 

Smiling merrily,

All of us go voluntarily,

Once we’re tucked in,

And headed off towards Slumber,

One comes for us,

Then we come back,

Either rested or distressed.

 

But even when you’re far away,

You are here to stay,

Your mind has gone some place,

And there,

It your body cannot chase.

 

It’s so funny,

This thing called Sleep,

Every night you journey there,

Wondering if Dreams await,

Or if you’ll come face to face,

With yet another Nightmare.

 

A lucky break,

An escape,

From day-to-day idiocy,

At least that’s what you hope to find,

When you reach the place,

Where Nightmares and Dreams collide.

 

But when you drift off,

You may be disturbed,

By mysterious entities,

That tend to catch you unawares,

And the only avenue of escape,

Is to wake up scared.

 

This state of going dormant,

It’s really quite important,

So try not to feel dread,

Just because you may encounter,

Someone or thing who’s been long dead.

 

No don’t try to fight it,

For if you hesitate,

You may make the Nightmares mad,

And so be met with hostility,

Rather than tranquility.

 

By all means,

Tonight you might see Monsters,

Creeping up from below stairs,

Yet also lurks,

The possibility of Good Fortune,

Sending you Dreams of fuzzy bears.

 

There’s a fifty-fifty chance,

You could Dream of fun or romance,

So relax,

And hope all remains okay,

When you hit the hay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

October Pests

Forget what you’ve heard,

About “nothing is stirring”,

There are things everywhere,

And a lot more than a mouse,

For this isn’t Christmas,

It’s Halloween,

And batshit things are everywhere,

Both seen and unseen.

 

Cute pumpkins in windows,

Are just for distraction,

Little do you know,

These things could star in a story about Booville,

Rather than Whoville.

 

Don’t dare do anything,

At six of the clock,

That’s the Devil’s Hour,

And his servants are out,

To seek and devour.

 

The well-kept graveyard behind Main,

Where Granddaddy lies,

It has come alive,

With Unearthly Spies,

Known to the masses as ghosts,

They are making the decision,

Of who or what to haunt most.

 

Tread carefully,

If you’ve gone up the mountain,

For an early-season ski,

There’s ghouls behind,

Each pine tree,

Waiting to trip you up,

And bring you for,

Their contribution to,

The Halloween Creature’s Potluck.

 

It’s a season where many,

Like to make a funny,

Dressing to give friends and kids scares,

That will raise their hairs,

But there are some out there,

That don’t quite mix,

With these fun-spirited humans,

Beware of their tricks,

For if you fall prey to their bait,

You’ll have one god-awful fate.

 

On Halloween Night,

If you choose not to stay,

Indoors where you,

Have a prayer at staying safe,

I beg you to keep away,

From that corner where Sixth,

Meets up with the meadow,

Surrounded by a wall of bricks,

For it’s here that gathers,

Each Halloween,

A big bunch of cadavers,

All are unhappy to have met,

An untimely end,

And trust me when I tell you,

You don’t want to cause them,

To become any madder,

As they’ll not hesitate,

To unleash their fury,

On anyone,

Whether they’re covered in skin or are furry.

One Halloween Night…….

A bad, bad being,

Was out hunting for a body,

The preference was,

One that was already dying,

It seems around these parts,

The sickly were pretty scarce.

 

He was running out of time,

For finding the perfect find,

Then the very next night,

In his sights,

Came two who caused him,

Great delight.

 

One a grandmother type,

And one a tri-colored flop-eared little dog,

Most of his sort,

Would just walk on by,

With a scornful snort,

But he was too relieved to gripe.

 

So,

Hiding behind a tree,

He started on his take-you-over chant,

But just as his soul,

Was about to start the dance,

That would have it infiltrate hers,

The dog stopped to pee,

And all went crazy.

 

The distance got misjudged,

And the next thing the little devil knew,

He was looking at the world,

From a four-legged view.

 

From this point on,

He resented the old woman,

He swore,

To concoct a plan,

And she would get ran,

Out of house and home.

 

Many times,

As he sat there by the lady’s side,

He passed scheme after scheme,

Through his mind,

But boy,

Lately it was tough doing magic,

Being a dog,

Was proving to be tragic,

Years and years went by,

But he was innocently outfoxed,

At every try.

 

One night,

He was in an especially rotten mood,

There had always been strange nighttime noises,

They seemingly came from inside the wall,

Being a demon,

This did not bother him,

But he decided it was getting,

High time to scout it out.

 

Using his seeing spell,

He projected his vision,

Until its strength was supernatural,

And what he saw was to him shocking,

It wasn’t the expected ghosts or goblins.

 

There was another world inside the wall,

And the fireplace was a portal,

To a land filled with mortals,

It set you down in a particularly pretty room,

In the upstairs of a mansion,

“Oh”!, thought he,

With sarcasm and glee,

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,

If I were to open this thing up,

And she just happened to fall in”?

 

But he did not get what he sought,

After he opened up the wall,

He thought for sure he could banish,

The pesky busy-body,

But she did not vanish!

She stepped back inside,

Carrying in her hands another,

And that is when his troubles multiplied.

 

Oh damn it all to hell!

This did not go well!

She was supposed to go there and get stuck,

My plan has gone amok!

 

It looks like it took too long to close the wall,

And during the stall,

She found her way back inside,

He gave a single sigh and rolled his eyes,

So much for a midnight escape,

And an all-night traipse,

There’d be no new-body search tonight,

He was still a prisoner,

And stuck forever in this self-imposed scrape.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Has a hut in the wall,

And a great swoosh of power,

Sweeps over it,

Every night,

Around the witching hour.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Spends her life,

Decorating a table-top,

Because she hasn’t got legs,

In which to hop off.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Being a little loopy,

Doesn’t even realize,

That her place is spooky.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Is so used to hearing,

Strange noises in the night,

That at first this really vital one,

Didn’t even cause her any fright.

 

One evening,

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Was sitting in front,

Of her roaring hearth,

In the oven she had baking,

A vanilla bundt,

Her knitting needles,

Were clicking and clacking,

And at her side as always,

Lay her faithful beagle.

 

At this same moment,

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was settling in,

For a cozy rest,

When her table-top unexpectedly,

Began to spin.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut’s mind,

For a time became foggy,

If you could see her,

She was clearly gone,

Though she was sitting right there,

And when she came to,

All she could do,

Was sit there,

With a blank stare.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

When her table-top stopped turning,

Couldn’t believe,

What her eyes were seeing,

The sky-blue wall,

Where the alluring artwork always hung,

It was gone,

And in its place,

Was just a hazy grey space.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t be sure,

So she shook her head,

But by then,

They grey she still swears she saw,

Had dissipated,

And in its place,

Was not her fireplace,

But a king-sized room,

Fancy and great.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Before her very eyes,

Saw a whole world,

Where there used to be a wall,

It’s startled her so,

That she yelped in surprise.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut started,

When she heard a yelp,

Then glanced wildly around,

For whomever may have made,

The hideous sound,

But seeing no one,

She assumed that maybe,

They had hopefully,

Already departed.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

May have seemed calm and quiet,

But inside her head,

There was quite the riot,

As she slowly looked,

From side to side,

For any place,

A wall might hide.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Finally got a grip,

She carefully stood up,

So as not to trip,

Then she felt a mechanical force,

From an unknown source,

Forcing her forward,

So she took a shaky step,

Into that room,

Hoping through her brain fog,

That it would not be her doom.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was finally thinking clearly,

Just as she,

Was about to pinch herself severely,

To know for sure,

She was indeed awake,

Something grabbed her pot,

In a very tight grasp,

Then she was brought,

Into That Place Beyond The Grey Space,

And placed upon a table,

Beside a still-hot cake.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut sighed,

Well,

At least she had not died,

When she set foot,

On that Other Side,

Then she took a look around and got frantic,

“Oh no!

Where is my dog?

Please say he was not swept off,

With the fog”!?

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Could not stay quiet anymore,

And so called out to,

The grey-haired human,

Standing at,

The cupboard door.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Still unsuccessful at finding,

The missing mutt,

Now made a sound of dismay,

“Oh great”,

She muttered,

“It looks like the pretty thing,

Is alive more than,

Your normal flower,

What else could possibly,

Go awry today,

What in tarnation is causing,

The moving of,

Such awful powers”?

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Felt her temper flare,

That the little lady would dare,

Ignore her address,

Oh yes,

She thought with a smirk,

I know where the doggone dog is,

But I’ll not say,

‘Cuz this bitch is a jerk!

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Sat down and cut herself,

A big slice of cake,

Then as she began to eat,

Her plate started to shake,

She looked to her right,

And her new red plant,

Was sprouting arms and legs,

Then she looked to her left,

And spotted her beagle,

With a look on his face,

Of pure evil.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was starting to feel bad,

As her capturer,

Was looking scared and sad,

So when the woman sat down,

To have herself a little snack,

She was about to politely,

Introduce herself,

When the dog crossed his eyes,

And smacked his tail to the wall,

With a deafening whack,

Which was a spell to make the flower,

Start to feel sour.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Had now lost her appetite,

And she began to think,

That what she might need was a walk,

But before she could leave,

The flower stood up,

And started to talk.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Now felt better,

And was able to make nice,

With the little old lady,

But now how to tell her,

That her beloved pet,

Was out to get her?

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Couldn’t believe her ears,

She had had that animal,

For hundreds of years,

Though it had crossed her mind,

More than a few times,

To wonder at the fact,

That he had not aged nor died.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Here’s what she told her:

“I’ve been eyeing your dog,

Since I was brought,

Through the fog,

And let me tell you,

That’s not a dog,

He is a monster,

That needs to be,

Led to slaughter,

Or you’re gonna,

Be a goner”.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Hated to lose her pet,

But she could see it was true,

He was Evil defined,

Masquerading as,

A sweet canine,

And it was time to bid,

This one adieu.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Other than the pup’s vendetta,

Aimed at her new acquaintance,

Was relishing this new adventure,

But it was slightly boring,

So on a whim,

She decided to test,

Her new limbs.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Heard a scraping sound,

And when she turned around,

Her new friendly flower,

Was climbing downward,

She held her breath,

But the freakish thing stayed steady,

And did not fall to her death.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Laughed delightedly,

These things known as arms and legs,

Using them,

Was proving to be easy.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Then offered up a hand,

And together those two,

Went out-of-doors,

To speak in peace,

On the white-sand beach.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Picked out a small table,

Underneath a bright blue,

Flamingo-covered umbrella,

Where she spoke her condolences,

For how the beagle,

Was actually a threat,

Rather than a dear pet.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Prattled and babbled,

Of course she knew inside,

It would not be her old companion that died,

For of course he was no longer,

A dog at all,

But an evil entity,

Who had used her old pet for,

An possessable body.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was relieved,

When they had a plan in place,

Although she did feel dreadful,

At her friend’s downcast face.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Went back into her hut,

And pretending ignorance,

She beckoned the dog to follow,

While trying not to boohoo.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Was ready and waiting,

With the bait,

And before they knew it,

It had sealed his fate.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

She was surprised,

At how she felt nothing,

When life left those eyes,

But as if it were part of the magic,

When the thing left,

It’s like it committed theft,

It stole her loving emotions,

And forever broke her ties,

Of devotion.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

She was relieved,

At seeing the disintegration,

Of the elderly woman’s,

Supposed companion,

But of course this meant,

The curse that had been cast,

And held her fast,

Was the dog’s last,

And going back,

To her own side of the wall,

Now may not be,

Possible at all.

 

Mrs. Wall Nut,

Without a doubt sympathized,

Although that anyone may want,

To leave her hut,

Took her by surprise.

 

Henrietta Pointsetta,

Soon settled in,

She learned this seaside tropic,

Was a fairy town,

Surrounded on all sides by ocean,

And soon her frown,

Permanently turned,

Upside down,

She even took a job,

At Beach Bum Burgers,

Serving the sort of treats,

She had doctored up,

For the little dog’s murder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s Nothing To Worry About

Hello out there,

To those who care,

Let me please introduce,

Master Bruce,

The celebrated ghost,

With a unique flair,

For inflicting Scare.

 

He is just typical,

For one of his kind,

What is above average though,

Is his mind,

But yea,

As far as looks go,

He is kind of wispy,

And white as new fallen snow.

 

Not old at all,

As he was young when he took,

That fatal fall,

Yet he feels older than dirt,

For it’s been a hundred years and more,

Since he went out,

With one last painful roar.

 

Now death is not usually lonely,

But when you are left to hover,

And cannot cross over,

To those shores called Glory,

You will discover,

It is a different story.

 

*************************

 

Some years past now,

There lived a marvelous up-and-coming gentleman,

Whose life seemed to come together,

With nary a hitch,

It made his fellows envious,

How he didn’t need to earn his chow,

By the sweat of his brow,

This privileged person,

Was of course,

Our Master Bruce.

 

There came an evening,

When he was but twenty-four,

That he felt a need,

To be out-of-doors,

And he decided to go for it,

Despite the nasty down-pour,

Happening out there.

 

He took precautions,

Wearing slicker and galoshes,

But nothing can compensate,

If it is your fate,

And the hour being late,

When he went to dodge that horseless carriage,

He could not see,

That the roadside there,

Had been washed away,

So here he tripped,

Landing on his knees,

Then another automobile came by,

And his body was clipped,

Just as he was rising.

 

He whooped in pain,

But the driver never heard it,

On account of the rain,

So he continued on,

And within minutes,

Bruce’s life here was gone.

 

*************************

 

Key word there being ‘here’,

Because his body was done for,

But lo,

His spirit was stuck,

And never went anywhere.

 

*************************

 

It took some time,

For him to see it was true,

He was now a part of the world,

In which he had never believed,

He’s now one of,

The paranormal crew.

 

He didn’t like it a bit,

And developed into something malevolent,

The things he did,

Were downright awful,

For instance,

When he made an engine fail,

And sent a car,

Over the rail.

 

*************************

 

There came a time,

About 1949,

That the Nightmare King,

Caught wind of him,

And decided he would be an asset,

A perfect vessel,

To carry his Dreams Of Threats.

 

It was great,

For a time,

Delivering these Scares,

Being the cause,

Of raising hairs,

By giving people nightmares.

 

But he’s starting to see now,

Just how long eternity is,

And dishing out nightmares,

Has become to him,

So unimaginative.

 

He’s becoming restless,

And of late when it storms,

He’s been returning to the site,

That still fills him with spite.

 

Now without fail,

You can hear him wail,

While he paces,

Back and forth,

Slow and steady,

Like a snail.

 

*************************

 

Now what’ll he do,

To fill the endless hours,

Of his afterlife?

Will he turn even more sour,

And try to possess,

Evil powers?

Dare we hope,

He will turn from strife,

And pick up something civil,

Such as playing the fife?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now Wouldn’t That Be Brilliant

Imagine having the ability,

To become invisible,

With a clap of the hands,

Or the blow of a whistle,

What a pleasure it would be,

To get to do things,

Not otherwise permissible.

 

Certain situations,

Can get awfully sticky,

And to seem to fade out in a puff,

Would be a pretty convenient tricky.

 

Remaining hidden,

While being there unbidden,

Would be better than riches,

Even if it had some glitches.

 

Learning secrets,

Not meant for my ears,

Would be a priceless talent,

Maybe even enabling me,

To fuck with an event’s sequence.

 

I wonder,

In this situation,

Would strangers mistake me for a spirit?

If I were to walk in invisible,

Then reverse the spell,

And say an unexpected salutation?

 

How suitable it would be,

To be admitted for free,

Thanks to them not seeing,

The body that’s me,

And so they’d be,

Screwed out of a fee.

 

I dare say it would be,

Good practice for death,

At least that is so,

If you believe in becoming a presence,

After you’ve breathed your last breath.

 

Well I think that about covers it,

There’s no need to elaborate more on the subject,

By now you ought to get the picture,

Of how life could be richer,

And I suppose it will do me no good,

To speculate,

Of how wonderful it would be,

To possess this fine trait,

But I’d like it anyhow,

If I could make this happen,

Right here right now.

 

 

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?