Imagine a bus that runs Eight Days a Week
with seats made of slimy leek
sliming further for every sitter
and sputtering out oil with every creak.
Imagine not getting to get the bus
'less you come on frying leeks, making a fuss
’bout passengers not letting you get oil from under their seats,
provoking your pan to concuss!
Imagine all the people concussed by pans
on the Eight Days a Week bus – The Beatles fans.
Hold me, love me Eight Days a Week
while we make bus seat slimy leek flans.
Fancy riding on a sturdy open topped crust
with leek-based lube setting our lust?
Why, to society’s travel regulations
should we have to adjust?
Bouncing on a slime seat with nude bum cheeks is fun.
Let’s also slime our face cheeks to shield from the sun
on my mind Eight Days a Week, My Leek.
Massage me with oil – this bus has a ton!
Oh Santa ~
I've been telling you all year
to ease up of the
pies, cheesecake and cookies
But no ~
you had to have your way
and eat through mountains
of sweets and decadent desserts
You couldn't get enough ~
brownies, donuts, croissants
ice cream, gelato, sorbet
puddings, flans and custards
Now look at you ~
think about that
while you wait patiently
for the rescue team
You never listen !
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
home, when can i be with you?
laughter around a room..
familiar faces doesn't leave any doom..
under the dusk of moon..
i will be there soon..
scents of fresh buds and dews .
it beckons memories many not few..
walking circles with my shoes
shifting melodies in cues...
in the little kitchen
i saw mama in big mittens
holding viands and flans
exaggerating any bounded plans...
outside, lots of puppies
running jumping with glee..
some waggles their tail
some hounding in frail..
deepening outside..
old faces side by side..
all they are what a sight..
they'll be glad im on cite..
missing home; missing home..
my heart warms just thinking its soon...
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