Buttercups withered outside my door,
their stems split dry—
blood leaks anyway,
like this is how it happens.
Every step cracks the glass,
it keeps breaking, slowly,
what spills out—
rain,
my eyes.
Maybe the answer isn’t me—
with the one who refused the ring.
How am I even crying today—
because there’s enough grief, or maybe
because I can’t grow roses.
I watch the lights go out; there is
no one in the house, the chance already gone,
“tant pis,” then.
Who even wants the formula—
to initiate, comply, and carry it all,
as if it takes courage just to care
for her body, her breathing, her eyes.
I practised courage
in rooms that do not exist;
dust knows the lines well.
So, I guess they mean it when they say
“A rolling stone gathers no moss.”
“Stay still,” they say.
Nectar from too many flowers has given her
a halo around her head, a radiance
clinging to her skin—
is that intoxicating—
or just carnal desire,
overused?
A squeaky wheel gets the grease,
but a sneaky fox gets the geese -
will wonders never cease?
A rolling stone gathers no moss,
but only if he uses dental floss -
I am at a loss!
The early bird catches the worm,
but dies from a food-poisoning germ -
It makes my stomach squirm!
A confused old man wonders why
the old rules don't seem to apply.
It makes me want to cry!
Each instructive allegory,
each proverb in the inventory,
tells a different story.
Katsushige Mizuno
Is too awesome for just one lord, you know
For 15 years lived as a wanderer
Moving on from one liege to another
His father's serf once tattled on his misconduct
So he drew his sword upon the man and struck
Dad got sick of his wild displays
He swiftly sent the youth away
But neither scorn nor exile can put a hamper on his pluck
Though he at last went home and made up with dad
Who shortly died; that made him his family's head
Some people say that a rolling stone gathers no moss
But settling down and setting roots is no great loss
"A rolling stone gathers no moss."
What am I
So stationary now
Is there moss growing
I hope not
It will come soon enough
Upon the headstone
Help me dear, Lord
To get stronger
Better, so I can count once again
Don't want to love you
just looking for fun
Can't stick around
my soul is on the run
A rolling stone gathers no moss
A wandering heart suffers no loss
The loneliness of tomorrow
eased by that beauty of yesterday
Got that bug to travel
being free and on my way
Don't want to be trouble
Don't want to belong
Don't want to settle down
I need to keep moving on
The world is big
time is short
I keep rolling rolling rolling along
No use clinging to me
No use remembering my name
No use starting to love me
I'm just playing a game
Tonight you hold me sweet and tight
but I'll be long gone before daylight
Don't want to love you
just looking for fun
Can't stick around
my soul as on the run
A rolling stone gathers no moss
A wandering heart suffers no loss...
I was pondering the adage
"a rolling stone gathers no moss."
If that is true would rolling moss
be 'street legal?' Or possession of a
controlled substance?
It is just a thought!
It brings to the forefront another adage.
"moss always grows on the
north side of the tree."
I can see a couple of cronies walking
in the woods. One asks the other,
"what happened to the north side
of the tree?"
The other answers, "you know what
happened to the north side of the
tree as well as I do, we smoked it!"
Sine Die
My wife's French bread rolls
Rolling stone gathers no moss
No moss no breakfast
You claim to be on top of everything, if someone has done it, you have done it
better
When it was cold, you said you knitted the entire workforce sweaters
You sweep most people under the rug
You are member of the Menza's exclusive club
You tell Miss Betty why she was left behind
Only the best were selected, part of the intelligent design
You tell me I am dumb as a man can come
But according to you I am not the only one
You always have to make people feel insecure
Then you wonder why when you approach they all steer clear
I am wondering all the bridges you burn, is it worth the cost
You live by the saying a rolling stone gathers no moss
You try to be perfect as Miss 5-2-9
You and your family are the foundation of intelligent design
You always feel the need to shine
You tell everyone you are the top of the line
You are the main attraction at the show
You can always tell everyone what they don't know
If I conquered a hill, there are ten mountains you have climbed
You will always claim it's intelligent design
Once Isobel came upon Beelzebubs advocate,
The likes of which she had never met.
Equivocation was his mastery and lament
Altering reality with every comment.
Hi there he said, well how very pleased I am to meet you!
With my fulsome tongue I will defeat you!
Isobel, Isobel didn’t worry,
Isobel didn’t scream or scurry.
Her mystery of his mastery became her game,
And her dignity and self-esteem she did reclaim.
Isobel met a friend and colleague
Who was bewildered then bemused by the vine-plague.
He realised that pseudomorhous’s sanctuary was a glass cage,
And decided to recompense himself of the malign.
He became wrapped up in constructs of reality,
The results of which he could not foresee.
His mystery was Isobel’s mastery
With which Isobel escaped to sanctuary.
Moral:
Beware of how you associate with Isobel
The outcome of which you can never tell
A rolling stone gathers no moss
But the master of the rock is the Albatross
it's said, "A rolling stone gathers no moss,"
I don't buy that, I move on, I'm my boss,
learning a bit of this, a pinch of that,
to the jack of all trades I tip my hat,
tutored by every win, every loss,
so far, I've survived life's roll, yaw and toss!
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