Hello folkingtons, delightful to see you again. Three more poems - and yes I haven't a clue what any of this is about or where it's going, but I must say being a poet is a real blast, the money is spectacular and sitting in my underpants smoking gitanes at four in the morning c'est tres moi!
SAXOPHONOSYNTHESIS
The sun's a solar instrument
At the angels' beatnik gig
But if you want
to hear it
Daddy-o, you have to dig.
For the music
flows in silence
From the tip of
heaven’s eave
And quietly it
jives through air
Below to waiting
leaves.
The leaves they
vibrate twigs,
Twigs and branch
and bough,
Down the tune
keeps beating
Past the locus of
the plough.
Until, where trees
are fastened
To terra firma by
their shoots
There you sense that music
It goes Rooty
Toot
Toot
Toot.
* * * * *
* * * * * * *
AND ALL THEY EVER FOUND WAS MOTHER HUBBARD'S BONES
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the Cupboard
To feed her minature poodle
When she got there
Inside lurked a bear
With his big hairy bum in her strudel.
YUM! YUM!
* * * * *
* * * * *
THE TRUTH ISN'T
Eve eloped with the snake
(Left one rib I.O.U.)
Noah’s ark did not float
(Leaky two by twos.)
The Tower of Babel reached its peak
Avoiding liquidation
(Two Mormons climbed to the top
Then offered God salvation)
Abraham’s sacrifice
Isaac did not survive
A Japanese whaling boat
Ate Jonah alive
And walls around Jericho
Israel did not uproot
While Goliath with a sheep
Cleaned David off his boots
And that's the truth despite the plain
Bible contradictions
Those Mormons rubbed the Lord up wrong
Now truth's stranger than friction
* * * * *
Until we meet again - keep chewing on those gitanes.
