Ants
And uncles' too
They get under my goat.
Skin crawling little lactose tolerant yokes.
"Holy guacamole, pass the cheese."
Says Uncle Whine O.
Hold the phones stop the press I gotta go.
Look at me
Look at me
Ant Hen says to Uncle Fren
Here buddy let me hold that for ya while I soak ants with my pee.
Gossiping about me creating mountains that are more closely related to as hills.
That lazy bum can't even pay his own bills.
He lies, cheats, and steals.
Truth be told I hate ants like for reals.
8/14/16
If I were
an astronomer,
a follower of Papa
Galileo through
th'expanding years,
I should be
less confounded by
that vortex
in the sky
first spotted
when a learned bro
peeked through
his viewing lens.
"Our home"
he said, "is bigger
than we thought!"
and thus he kicked
the boot of Italy
into a cosmic ocean
where galactic islands drift,
defying that old wader
of its terra,
no longer firm-a
("oh, let's asee my fren;
we play da words,
I mean, da Medi-terra-neans")
Yes, I know signore, those
who think longingly
about their home upon
the ground beneath.
But there it is,
a starry nebulum
that just will not behave
as science thought it should.
And so she floats
albeit saucilly
with starry hands
on cosmic hips,
"Just where"
she wants to know,
"is a galaxy
to go?"
~
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