With a loud thump…
A bird flew into a window…
And died…
This bird shall no longer thump loudly…
Nor shall it once more fly naturally into a window…
It shall forever be known as the bird that sacraficed itself, so that it could be named: “the bird who died”
Some people are smitten…
Like giants eating kittens in a glove…
Others are in love…
Making mittens from a dove…
Many are lonely…
Like bees eating bologni.
Most, however are ghosts…
Hiding close…
Watching…
Clapping…
And jumping with glee…
Waiting to see the sneeze and wheeze, of the pathogenic flea.
Bones and bells in the shape of a snail.
Sacks and snares stuffed into bears.
These were all of the goals of old Billy Bowl.
Replace the mail carrier’s eyes with berries and a cherries.
Sprinkle germs on long brown worms and pour barrels of snakes into the local lakes.
These were the goals of old Billy Bowl.
Beat the poor until their backs were sore.
Feed the sweetest kid to biggest pig.
And burn all the butter that was recently churned.
These were the goals of old Billy Bowl.
feed the dogs to a bunch of hogs
Set ablaze the old corn maze
And let us not forget about a virulent plague.
These were the goals of old Billy Bowl.
There once was a barista.
And his name began with the letter E…
You could call him steve, meave or cleave…
But those names dont start with an E…
He was known for never wipeing his nose on his sleeve…
Or having any great pet peave…
And thats why everyone likes to call this man good ol mister Steve.
Cherries and berries, beans and bones. These are the things I want to know. Hats on cats and pots in cots, these are the things I want to show.
Potatoes… and rocket ships,
These are the beverages I like to sip.
Hats and meats and cheese and bees, rocks and bones and clocks and scones. These are the things that can be loaned.
Clicks and ticks and buttery bells, these are the things I like to smell. Sometimes i even like to put hair in my gel.
These are the things I like to spell. Mostly they’re all words that start with L. Like lima, load lock and belly, be as M and tree and even three…
So come with me and dance and sing and together we will surly be,
The ones swimming in the fine ols sea…
I remember the first thing that I said to you, and it was the conversation that stuck us like glue. Think back to a day, when everything was a different way, and delight on the words that brought you the bones, berries, and jellies, and even some scones.
If it were a colder month I could say for show, that you and I could’ve pranced in the snow. But as it is today, I will surely say, that there was something else I needed to let you know.
Tacos, berries, and jellies and bellies, these are all my most favorite flavies; and when its cold, its like a witch’s sack, and when its warm its like a hot sweltering cat.
But now it is time for me to repeat those words, that I surely did share, so now you can remember why it is that you still care.
Hello miss lady, don’t make it a maybe. I have a cat named Mouse over at my house. He is covered with fur, and sometimes says gurr, and would love to show off his purr.
I even have a roommate who likes to sleep late. Her name is Sadie, she likes to eat potatoes, and she smells like tomatoes, and sometimes likes to be treated like a lady;
She has a brown puppy that she named Yuppy, and she once fed it a green bean grape.
So for my heart’s sake, pretty lady, when did you want to come over today?
I need to know, so I can go to the stow and buy a bag of rye and a big ol pie.
Tell me now so I do not cry. Lovely lady, when shall I see you today?
Cause i wanted you to know, we could play with clay, or even jump in the hay, maybe, perhaps even drink with the fae.
So beautiful lady, if you come over today, we could dance through the month of may. And at the end we could say, we are now super best friends today.
I want you to know that all things are magical, even beans and bones. That when your heart meets your soul the stars will have a show!
That though things may be hard, and cut like a shard, you will peer through the looking glass, and know this will pass.
You will grow strong and wear your thong, proudly you will dance to your own song. We shall swing from a tree, listening to the bees.
It will grow dark, but only in the night. It will be the most incredible sight. We will look into the sky and watch the lightning bugs fly.
At the end of the eve you will be the woman I see. A woman with an eye, that sees into the sky. Able to provide for herself everything she needs.
One day we will have words, and they will be more interesting than turds. They will be fun and made from chewing gum. They will be happy and sappy and filled with glue. They will be more fun to listen to than playing the flute.
Potator
Like terminator,
Is the popular verb of potato
Like shark-nado
But instead potato-nato
Similar to our nato,
Showing peace to the world,
with furls and curls.
But let us not forget about the girls, the ones doing twirls and potato-whirls.
Swimming and trimming the root,
Telling our potators where to shoot.
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