Poems

Mystical, Twistical
road down a path, ya know,
everytime I see it the flow just goes,
down my spine as I say hello...

The Boy I know sings the song of flow,
So which ways up and down, You know?
I don't, for the song plays a time,
nine, exactly in my mind.

That dratted boy! His insessant singing!
What these thoughts, my mind keeps bringing?
"Why?" I ask," do you play the song?"
Over and Over all day long...

So know I sit on my place,
The bed, of course, is my base,
to rest my head and go to sleep,
but this song plays, and will always keep.

So now I leave you,
while the song still plays,
stuck in my head,
till the end of our days.

Boo! down with the poem!
Boo! go live alone!
Bah! I don't need this stuff.
Replies the poet: "tough."

So poetry is silly,
if a bit willy,
so I really
get some ice to chill me.

Why, you ask?
to get rid of my
hot
furious
curious
not
sad
but
mad
and
jurious
if
you
know what I mean?

Ants in your pants!
Boy, they make you dance!
Have you done the prance?
Prap's there's a chance,
of ants in your pants?