Why’d you dig that hole George,
are there rabbits down there?
Too many Lennie
like me they’re in despair
Don’t be afraid to look now
I’ll stand right behind
Ok I will!
George took out his gun all primed
If I seem distant
it’s not because I’m far
I’ve always been here
your binary star
Two for one was always
our dream spot in space
As George felt plasma
splat across his face
For the first time ever
Lennie’s mind came alight
Brains blew outward
behold what a sight
Symbiosis ends
when one half explodes
Locked in syndrome gone
no need to reload
Down the rabbit hole
lies that smoking gun
It may solve a dilemma
but can never be undone
Ever wonder why
fools stare blank upon skies
They just don’t see them
until they possess no eyes
By David Kavanagh
Rocking back and forth with a Magellan hat, Lennie prepares for sailing.
Incoherent babbling is heard from the explorer on all fours.
Items of existential curiosity, once seen from afar and distant, are now within reach.
Unbeknownst of this capable ability are those that keep watch, giggles to self.
Driven by wonder, soft thudding perks the ears of the canine companion.
The pain of fence posts cutting through tissue leaves a snail trail on the floor.
Finally making landfall, the little giant scales rectangular glass framed in wood.
Pauses, send deafening echoes to the villagers safe inside, stunned in silence.
Bored of this impenetrable defense, climb further to the cliff edge to peer over the brim.
A village made of logs, glittered snow that sparkles on hand, little people frozen in time.
With a reverse Midas touch, ends the curse of the village with the gift of flight.
Awoken, the God and keeper of the village imprison your curiosity in a netted cage.
12-28-22
An Existential Curiosity
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I mean, long Victorian verses pining for a pure lover who never scratches her own ass.
The bronzed paeans to those who died in war or a meaningless cause.
Or the inscribed moans of the armature bard holding a petunia.
I hate it.
BUT
“If music be the food of love, play on.” OK, OK. I love Shakespeare. But he is Shakespeare.
And then I always had a thing for Viola.
And the Tower of Song. Lennie can and does bring tears to my eyes.
Or “45 years from now” the vaulting words of Stan Rogers. Gone too soon. “I wish I were in Sherbrooke now.”
So maybe I do like poetry. Some poetry.
But I don’t like my poetry. That’s for sure.
So there.
My cousin Lennie has a heart of gold.
When you meet him you will be instantly sold.
He recently retired, but is still in his prime.
His lovely wife Susan now loves his free time.
Lennie is a connoisseur of all kinds of beer.
He has a couple daily by his pool with his wife so dear.
His wife Susan is strictly a vodka tonic kind of gal.
After a long day, a cocktail raises the morale.
Sitting by the pool with a beer, and then grill…
What more can you ask for if you want to chill!
They are just as in love as when they first met.
Lennie puts on some jazz, then the mood is set.
They listen to the music and begin to dance.
It’s the perfect setting for a little romance.
Lennie counts his blessings, as he reaches for another beer.
He knows he is a lucky man, that is indeed crystal clear.
Its easier to build broken children than to repair broken men.
Man that was cold how George killed Lennie in the end.
If i had a friend that dreamed of owning a ranch, curly's the one
who would've died at the camp in the end. The chances that George
confesses to slim if i were in his shoes, are slim to none. All it takes is one candy to rotten that tooth. Carlson's gun is something George just had to shoot.
Lennie was a Hen-pecked pastry baker
Who told His wife He might forsake Her.
She nagged and was grossly obese.
He wanted it to quickly cease.
Whereupon He frosted Her Half-acre.
This princely lion called Lennie
In the zoo pub he had one too many
He awoke to exposure
Being in the wrong enclosure
Cuddling a princess lioness called Jennie
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