Habit

They carry widows, carry tables
While I read Aesop's fables
Yield to all and nothing yield to thee, trust not the flatterers, appearances may illusions be
This is what that man told me
But habit found is a rabbit fed
May it breed and take over my head
All through the lining of my mind bound walls in it the rat of habit crawls
With gnashing teeth and scratching claws
I push it back with my bleeding paws
But yet I think this habit somewhat kind
And hope to God it may not find
My crazed and beloved peace of mind

My Forest

In my forest with the old walkways and homebound house cats
I walk and talk of things I have seen
Feet from main, I talk to you of my plan
Walk back to my forest to look at the plants
Yellow house, blue house, pink house
Now go on back to the lookout.

Good for burns

He Is mean
He is crass
He is drunk
But he is good for burns

He yells
He fights
He disagrees
But he is good for burns

No pink squirrels allowed
He needs no friends
Let him stair at your last empty corner
Don't kick him out, let him be a dick
But never deny that he is good for burns

$10,000 Reward

WANTED
Positively alive
My Imagination

My imagination is on the loose.
It stole a car and drove to Neverland.
It robbed a book store of it's precious memories. It hijacked a plane and went to the Sistine Chapel. It painted it's stories on the ceiling and overlaid the halls with gold leaf. It made a mockery of all our fears. It swept countless people off their feet and carried them away. I need your help to get it back before it does something truly astounding.