There was a carney, I knew as Larry.
He lived with a knife thrower, named Sherry.
Sherry loved her yellow canary,
and trusted its care while gone to Barry.
While she was gone, the bird somehow got free.
He looked everywhere, where could that bird be?
His eyes looked up as he dropped to one knee,
and prayed for help to find the canary.
“I’m headed home”, was the text from Sherry.
The thoughts of her rage were very scary.
He turned to see a smile, she seemed merry,
from off his hat, she took her canary.
When Meaning Is Meaningless
The value of life is delicious debris
When meaning is meaningless
The victims search bread crumbs in the bounteous stale loaf
The light of nude night blinks blindness
What does meaning mean for life at the edge?
for ant’s feasting in farmished frocks
I find flames from the bottomless fire of life
If you seek meanings on this ploughed lanes
You sing museless songs of leprous crochets
When meaning is meaningless
Those who saw off meaning say:
‘See this sense with little sense and
keep this lunacy living in the silent hut’
The dire strait of sense- less bigots
Stifle the lobes of logic-quotient that can midwife meaning
What meaning is in our meaning?
Around the carnary class of misfiring mermaids
What meaning do we allot a life laden in scars
From fiery vaults and heart brakes from many lovers.
We shall find the missing syllables and symphonies
And sing songfuls in the sweet seraphdom