Just a stick of wood,
that feels so good.
A pencil awaits a hand,
for alone it can not stand.
And lie it never should.
With paper it melds,
emotion thus swells.
Then feeling as should,
the lines understood.
And life’s pokes it quells.
The mind set free,
the future we see.
The past that is earned,
a new leaf is turned.
But breaks will always be.
There once a young ladd from a small beach.
His eyes grew bigger of a world out of reach.
Till ships bells called, future’s clear.
Away to venture, the beach stayed near.
Anchors away, the waves did teach.
Once knew a man named Chuckles LaRue
Always had he an extra shoe
With just one leg there’s little to do
Till he meet another with one leg too
Now they both share their extra shoe
Deciphering codes nobody knows
Seeking worlds where no one goes
Seeing things that nobody sees
Charts the course, lives life, is free
Writes the wrongs with poetry
T’was a chilled northern isle
Where grows only weed and rock
From those rocks many a wall grow
Walls that fill with pigs and sheep
They all eat well, weaving tales in their sleep
There was once a clown
Who ventured to town
Where teased and laughed at out-loud
The clown was sad, the clown was proud
Thus used his big shoes to kick-ass all-around