love
is such
a hard thing
to understand
i mean...what is it?
a feeling in the heart?
an illusion of the mind?
an aching in other body parts?
a longing just to be not alone?

i'm here
sitting under
my favorite tree
when i at first
spot it
a simple leaf
floating down
slowly
and as if
to its very
own tune
and landing so
gently on my
big nose

you sneezed
when it was
somebody else's turn
to snort
and sent mud flying
way over your back
just what we need
in this sty we live in
more mud
but you didn't mind
a little mud

it just has to be true cause i saw it on E!
i had to scratch my eyes and say "how can this be?"
i watched with such interest as i ate baked beans
yes...celebs now cleanse themselves in washing machines!

twas jessica simpson i think started this new trend
she fell straight into her washer when she tried to bend
her cat closed the lid on her hit "permanent press"
and she spun round in a cyclone...hair such a mess!

priscilla looks pretty
dancing in the garden
with all the yellow bees
just dancing around her
wow...look at her, will you?
waving her arms wildly
what kind of dance is this?

you
always
amaze me
with the power
of your sweetest smile
on those days of sadness
when my tears blur my vision
i only have to wipe my eyes
and see you standing there before me

pound if you must
oh thunderous skies
and beat down upon me
the will of the wind
with rain splashing my face
like a switchblade
punishing me
for sins great
and yet unknown
and hale pounding

so i reach way high up in the cupboard
and i pull down my favorite big blue bowl
and my plastic tiger spoon
and that big big box of cereal
you know the one

i fumble and tumble
with these fingers so fat
i type out the word "vat"
when i mean to say "cat"
makes my writing insane
and so crazy like that
a slave to my typos
a technical dingbat?!*@

somewhere cecily sits
perhaps in a parisian cafe
slowly sipping on green tea
with a wee bit of swamp water
mixed in for taste
wearing pearls
and a breezy autumn red dress

i hide here
safe in the comfort
of my basement home
the window opened
just a crack
for fresh air
but not enough
so that anyone
would discover me
way down in here
hiding behind the couch

i feel so high and mighty i do
when i look down upon the world
from way way way up here
on my gigantic wooden stilts
that separate me so nicely
from all the common folk

and so i am stretched out here
across the cold concrete
looking up into the sky
and i can hear it a little
before i can see it
a swishing sound
flowing you might say

sometimes i tell tall tales
and i do like to STRETCH
mostly when i rap bout
the ole tenement NETCH

but i ain't playin now
bout these grannies that GROOVE
pants droop to their kneecaps

so it may be true
i may write long
but i don't speak much
so it has to come out
somehow
and somewhere
or else
all those words
will just get
bottled up
way inside me
and my intestines