There seems to be confusion
On heads and how to use ’em.
I figured out a helpful fix
With two small, quicky tricks.

I grew some teeth inside my ears
To chew up rubbish volunteered
By talkers I don’t want to hear
And keep my thinker much more clear.

The other thing makes me more proud – 
I grew ears on teeth so I’m allowed
To hear my rubbish first and loud
And maybe chew and spit it out.

This may not be for everyone,
Some may not like what I have done
Or understand its spirit,
But I don’t have to hear it.

Also read about Birds, Snails, Owls, Bees, Foxes, Vultures and Ponies.

Abstruse Berry
Each berry of this plant seems to be an impossibly perfect sphere.  It has been studied by mathematicians and engineers all over and every one of them has left their lives behind to become traveling monks.  They call themselves the Order of the Recondites and spend the rest of their lives trying to make our world fit this perfect model of a berry.  They wander filing down mountains, filling in valleys and telling people that they just don’t get it.

Rinkleheimer Berry
Turns you into the last animal to eat a berry off its bush.  No one knows what the first berry eater became.  But who can resist?  And what will become you?

Carnassial Berry
A very toothy berry that will do its best to eat you if you’ve come to do the same to it.  A coyote’s chance is about 50/50.  How well do you do against a coyote?

Lyra Berry
As you chew you hear the berry’s swan song.  A perfect melody, sweet to tongue and ear.  Quiet triumphs.  Crashing crescendos.  A life in sound.  Then the berry is gone.  The concert is over.  You eat another.

Haspberry
The berries grow off the roots rather than the branches so you have to dig for your treasure.  Where pebbles come from.  Or are people just digging up pebbles?

Swong Berry
This berry is not from the shrub it’s growing on.  Will you plant it?

Orion Berry
Do not eat!  I’d like to tell you they’re poisonous or inedible, but no, I’m a berry eater of incredible honesty and integrity.  They’re just my favorite and I want them to be there if I should stroll by.  Why don’t you go try a carnassial berry?  I’m sure you’ll be fine.     

Nous Berry
A very sensible fruit (unlike some of these other drupelets).  Keep calm and berry on.

I’ll never be a grown-up!

Though I know that I must grow
There’s only one way that I’ll go.

I’ll grow into the ground! 

I’ll
be
a

g
r
o
w
n
–
d
o
w
n.

Some creatures have fierce features
That serve as brutal teachers.
Those of the Barrikite
Thrive in sky and light.

Its skin scaled cobalt blue,
Mushroom eyes with red shot through,
A charcoal feathered tail
Running up a rigid sail,

With silver horns as crowning wreath
And golden tongue and crystal teeth
All built upon burnt copper bones,
This is a beast that stands alone.

The Barrikite goes hunting storms,
Peace and calm it fears and scorns,
It only drinks rain as it falls
And always answers thunder’s calls.

Lightning might mean we combust,
It’s beastly feast for one who trusts
The ancient, chaos, nightling gods
Who built a breathing lightning rod.

It finds and climbs the highest point,
Lightning strikes as it anoints
A wild thing with great delight –
The electric Barrikite.

Illustrations by Cade Halada whose art can be found here.

Find what you are.
Be kind.  Be strong.
Be grass.  Be stars.
Be still.  Be song.

Find out your gift.
Be king.  Be pawn.
Be safe.  Be swift.
Be rat.  Be swan.

Find what you need.
Be right.  Be wrong.
Be kept.  Be freed.
Be gone.  Belong.

Luck comes in good and bad
And you play a large part
In which one we all add
More of to our arcs.

Bad luck can end with you
If you stop it right here,
Refusing to let through
Luck’s bad and your fear.

Pass on the good that comes!
You’ll find you’re at the crux
Of how good luck becomes
Good lucks.

When I find a penny
I always wonder why
The world would be so spendy
On such a guy as I.

Many see a penny
As tiny, worn and worthless.
It’s not much or many
But something has been purchased.

I try not to worry
But I’m a little young yet
To be in such a hurry
To go so deeply into debt.

Life’s a sea
With endless swells,
Know where she
Keeps her wishing wells.

Turn coins to wishes if you can,
Wish away what you might owe,
Tell me if you’ve better plans
But this is all I know.

“When pigs fly!”
Is what they say
Before they ask you why
You think you may
Have the guts to ever even try.

Folks are so fast
To flat forget
All the heart that you’ve amassed
That wingless pig doesn’t get
A thought leaves me aghast.

A pigasus
Is piggie dreams
And is dismissed
Too quick it seems
For such a world as this.

Follow your lead
Far past your doubt,
There’s a piglet with one need –
Help him out,
Go succeed.

The heartless are partless
In part due to artless
Ripping and roaring and tearing and squaring
The world in a way that bearing
Your heart is swearing
Away your right to it.

But if you can’t lose yours then you’re not fit
To have a heart or ever get
Another one that’s lived and lit
A person from the inside.

Some know the risks and they decide
To live their fear and go and hide
Their hearts from something more.

What will you do with yours?

Little Bomby Brum
Lived his whole life in a drum.
As with many girls and boys
His was a world of noise.
You could hear him in the song,
He couldn’t help but tap along!
Sometimes he would cross thump
And make his poor drummer jump.
All he did made a new beat!
When he’d play or clean or eat,
Even when he snoozed and snored
Somehow became a stunning score!

Some things we can’t help but give.
Brum made music as he lived.