when the sun smiles on the leaves
just so,
they build a bridge across....
what bullshit! what banality!
i wouldn't know what a soul was
or wasn't
if it bit me on the arse,
if that
and i'd probably attribute it
to the nasty neighbor's drooling dog
and all i can do is mythopoesize
as long as i'm not in the grave,
creepy crawly things in hot pursuit,
waiting for some kind of recollection.
Comments
LoL
I near spit my coffee right out ...
thank you Anna
,,,,it's not easy to keep it
,,,,it's not easy to keep it fresh, keep it real. lol.
glad to oblige, kind sir!
~A
Inspired by Joe?
Yes, you manage to keep it fresh and real.
This would have been even better if you had managed to mythopoesize within the poem.
HA!
HA!
The poem itself is *mythopoetic*. Silly you.
~A