A Little Loose

I’ve always been a little loose
In matters of the head.
But now, Madness, I call a truce –
Bits of me have broken off
And are lying in my bed!

I’m coming off in chunks!
At the ripe old age of five!
A doctor couldn’t save me, punks,
Bring a builder or a bricker
Someone who might keep me alive.

My body’s always had its trouble,
I’ve had whole loads of leaks.
But now I’ll end a mound of rubble,
Bit by bit will leave me nowhere
But a throne among the freaks.

I cannot see a bad that’s worse,
Tell me the tearful truth –
What did I do to win this curse?
And what’s this piece that fell free first?
It looks like … like … a tooth.

A Few More Nonsense Limericks

There was an old lady of Cairo,
Who, wherever she went, took a scarecrow;
No birds would get her,
Of that she’d be sure,
That wily old lady of Cairo.

There was an old man on a train,
Who had a lustrous, lion-like main;
He frightened everyone,
Except the children,
Who thought there a zoo on the train.

There was an old lady of Lear,
Who never left home out of fear;
That she’d lose her way,
And end up a stray,
Never to return to dear Lear.

A Few Nonsense Limericks

There was an old man of Buktu,
Who made him a rooftop canoe;
He paddled the town,
Far above ground,
That inventive old man of Buktu.

There was an old lady of Zurich,
Who refused to be seen out in public;
She went everywhere,
With sheets held in the air,
That hidden old lady of Zurich.

There was a young lad of July,
Convinced he was a firefly;
His wings wouldn’t go,
But he mastered the glow,
That brightest firefly of July.

Bobble Was a Vampire

Bobble was a vampire
Of the hungry night.
Bobble was a vampire
Until that fateless bite.

A child who did not know
-Didn’t even know to know!-
Put a tooth into a vampire
And dealt a human blow.

That child bit into wild ruckus
And unleashed a foreign calm.
Bobble left the vampires
Thanks to new brother Tom.

Tom was that biting boy
Who turned night into a brother.
It’s Tom and Bobble now,
Each one living for the other.

Mistake

We lost the meaning of Mistake somehow
And only think it bad.
Ms. never gave us anything
But what we never had.

This never knowing what we’ll get
Is what we cannot stand.
There’s no history in Mystery,
No known glory in the unplanned.

Ms. keeps us moving forward,
Mr. does the same.
They’re the only way we’ll ever hit
Better than our aim.

Sticks, Stones and Words

Sticks and stones may break your bones,
Words can hurt your feelings.
The double danger is hearts are homes
And might even hold more parts unknown
That don’t come as easily to healing.

Sticks, stones and words all hurt when hurled –
War’s our very best way to waste.
They should instead be careful placed
With love and thought right tightly swirled
To build a better backward world.