Millie’s hair grew six inches a day
Serious growth that did not stray
Did this make her feel happy or gay?
We do not know, for she did not say.
She tried new remedies every day.
Goo of fly and spit of ornery blue jay.
Other combos that sounded rather cray-cray
Ideas borrowed from a mushroom fey.
Would her hair slow down when it turned gray?
It might suggested a non-knowing stingray.
Millie spent most of her wages and her regular pay.
Trying to get her growing hair to grow the regular way.
Oooh I am so totally frightened now said Lion Number One.
Lion Tamer Cray-cray looks stupid; this will be much fun!
Does he think the chair will stop me? Asked Lion Number Two.
They lay on the floor of the circus laughing, annoying Cray-Cray too.
Alone anyone not feel the pain'
At no mention me not hug me
Alone love me alone
Not me taking some one,
Not me care same one,
Alone love me alone
Hey! Sky is wonder my heart its Cray
Some one crush me.
Alone love me alone
Unicorn dreams surrounded his mind
He was a docile man, caring and kind.
Pixies and dervish were chased away.
This was a sweet soul, Mr. La Cray.
Pink angels were called to give him some grace
Saint Peter met him with an impulsive embrace
Rainbows appeared and someone played a harp.
He had a gentle soul and was empathetically sharp.
As one saunters by the bubbling brook
fixated on intricate crannies and nooks
quaint voices encircle, relaying rhyme
in a plethora of rhythms, perfectly timed
Adonis blue butterflies flaunt their wings
messages ensue as four swallows swing
in between worlds, swept into a dream
as one finds a path up the sunlit stream
Kingfishers perched on the bared roots of
a tree skewer some fish for afternoon tea
an otter prepares a fresh banquet of cray
wind rustles the birch to faint calls of a jay
Wrens nesting in the hedgerows nibble on seed
Willow sheds her woe down by the water reeds
Damselflies rest upon a cast of white flowers
as rolling clouds breakout in freshest shower
This little kid is the best of me
Seems as if sometimes was raising me
Before he was winged was reading peeps
By age 2-3 he was cop blocking
Named him Tahj his life has a plan
He has the heart of a renaissance man
He’s methodical quite particular and
Middle name Micah like a prophet he’s grand
As a single mom I did not play
I was mean, I was kind, I was cray cray
Yet so divine is the power of love
He grew up fine despite times he stays up
The book of Micah is a reader for life sir
It’s a train of thought blue caboose
Took him to Carrowinds for a fun day
He looked at the coaster said “It don’t look safe”
Not many kids would think that way
So water log, bumper cars, arcade in the shade.
20 years later lupus gave me dilemma
Could barely walk lupus sucks I remember
Feeling weak, wrong for being indigo ill
But my number 1 son held it down with chill
The book of Micah is a reader for life sir.
It’s a train of thought blue caboose.
A magic genie would be happily welcomed today,
For a Hawaiian girl had suddenly appeared, wearing a lei.
She taught our kitchen sink how to shake and sashay.
Scaring my husband who turned immediately pink and gray.
With a giggle, out of a pot popped a fish of cray.
Our stainless steel microwave began to preen and bray.
Wait for me! Yelled the oven with a snappy neigh.
Have you ever? I asked my man, but he had run away.
Step up and get your Covid jab. Hey, hey!
The devil’s advocate I play today.
The vax is still on trial? Don’t let that sway
your mind against it. Covid we must slay!
A waiver you must sign. Don’t let that weigh
upon your mind. Come on! You’ll be okay.
So what if you feel sick for a full day?
It’s for the common good, Comrade José !
Fatalities are rare. That should allay
your fears despite the areas all grey!
World leaders know what’s best. They won’t betray
your trust in them. Their words you must obey.
And vax your pre-teen too. It’s child play
despite his being safe from Covid anyway!
You’ll get a nice certificate you can display,
and safe from the Pandemic you will stay.
Don’t listen to “flat earthers.” They’re cray cray.
For sure, don’t listen to your gut. That’s so cliché!
Big Pharma never would on people prey
Hear what Fauci’s science has to say!
The vaccine’s GOOD for you, so don’t delay.
Meet Biden’s deadline. Get free donuts. Hurrah!
June 28, 2021
for the Let Er Rip #3 Poetry Contest of John Lawless
Hey, Cray-cray Bobby May, don't hide away; come out and play!
Jan. 8. 2021 for Bobby MAY'S Tease A Friend Poetry Contest
Glaring, daring him to stare into her eyes.
They’re stern, they burn terror of an evil kind.
His fibs, she twirls like a baton, his feeble lies.
This stepmother, a fairytale witch, finds
ways to wreak havoc when her husband’s away.
Elementary child, small but wise, inflames her,
releases creatures uncaged - she goes cray-cray.
As fake mother cracks, her vibrato bum concurs.
1/4/2020
From “Off With Their Heads,” by Maria Tater, in the oldest version of “The Three Gifts,” a boy asks that when his stepmother glares at him, “her bum might then let go, and crack like roaring fire.”
Everyone, a bit bipolar be;
It is the nature of our planet.
If you do not with this fact agree,
Just go upon the Web and scan it.
The strange duality of humans –
As all the shrink-ologists well know –
Can make of us a bunch of Truman’s –
Each our own comedy-drama show.
If it sometimes seems a bit too cray,
Worry not – thank the stars above you.
Never feel that you have lost your way;
Friends, family, dog, will always love you.
Eh, Bebe ...
clueless you with the wide eyes open,
which can’t see
So apoplectic of heart,
paralyzed by the cobra sway
of changeling channel charmer words
Gen Z baby gloomer
remote diaphragm controlled,
go back to analog sleep
Oh oh ... video comatose —
Nightmares begat by daydreams
of reel digital silver screams
Lost Vegas patch-eye vision
of one arm pulled down
And the coins keep trickling
into your open palms
Baby Bebe gon umbilical vault cray cray
Cut the cord of the eyelid dark violet curtains ...
bling-bling blind birth
shut the womb of twin retinal glow dearth
So aorta slow,
slug cranial coma critical ...
lobotomy comatose
Virtual voices say:
eh, Bebe —
Pull the plug ... let the dying vapors go,
expired from a necrotic nasal
Eye, bye, sigh, die, guy, fly, rye, why.
Rhyming words.
I love them.
Tambourine, unseen, too lean, ugly mean,
Rhyming words.
Can’t get enough of them.
Bang, clang, dang, fang, gang.
Boo, hoo, Lucy Lu, True, Woo, moo, Goo…
Delightful.
Insightful.
Flashlight-ful.
Okay, maybe some of the words are made up,
But who can resist words like hup, sup, tup, and pup?
Befog, clog, quahog.
I could do this all day.
Zipper. Ripper. Slipper.
I am on a tear for real.
Peal, meal, heal, kneel, squeal, zeal…
This is making my day.
Hay, may, jay, tray, cray.
I’m really starting to play.
Squirrel, rural, hurl, swirl, twirl, girl, furl.
I can feel my eyes light up with glee.
Rhyming words make the world
Delightful for me.
The youth of today
Have it all going on
With the, pardon me brother
But could you pass me that pod
People say that they're cray
Are sure that they're mad
When they foam at the mouth
But it's nothing like that
They're just trying their best
To clean up their act
With nothing to Gain
In their lame atempt
As challenges go
This time the Tides turned
There's no way to know
When it comes to the unlearned
When I was a child
Moms washed our mouths out with soap
With no earthly idea
How far that feat would go
Feel free to join in the fun
On this challenge brand new
If you're young and you're dumb
You too can chew on a pod or two
They drool and they dribble
Over the soap in the middle
With both the challenge and mind
Being that of the simple
With every challenge of course
It'll come out in the wash
Is this pure genius at work
I clearly think not
If it's all in clean fun
Can it really be wrong
In the meantime would you mind
Passing that pod
A Day by the River
Sailing the high sea on the river,
Sinking while staying afloat,
Think I’m in danger of drowning,
Where would I find me a boat?
Nice here down by the river,
Floods caused the bed to dry up.
Eat Treacle & Anchovy sandwich,
Drink tea, from a broken egg cup.
Urchins who live near the river,
Fish for Sea Bass, using a kettle.
They may have caught a young Cray,
To bake it with seaweed and nettle.
Fairies with wings by the river,
Nibble mushroom with Ginger beer.
This is not typical fairy behavior,
High spirited, they wish me good cheer.
Skim pebbles across the dry river,
Seagulls fire shots to my nose.
Call a Mute Swan, but get no answer,
Damn duck, pecked off my clothes.
Very dark now, here by the river,
The sunshine is hot, beating down.
I’m walking right into the water,
An inconvenient way back to town.
Time’s come, to leave here the river,
Attacked by a shark on the shore.
It came for the barbecue party,
But prefer my leg that it tore.
When I wake up, I’m not by the river,
My pyjamas are soaked toe to head.
It transpires, I’m not by the river,
But dreaming, and just wet the bed.
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