Crim pulled at his skin
And found it gave way.
So the question became –
Pull or let it stay?

Crim was handsome
And had always been.
Why worry himself?
Why worry his skin?

Why bother with bothers
When there was no need?
Why battle his body?
Why make himself bleed?

Why, he let the why’s fly,
And then, oh, he pulled.
Crim undid him into
Twelve buckets, all told.

Pulling was easy,
He just had to unzip
From his schnoz around
To his lower lip.

He pulled himself out.
Now you wonder, I know,
What was under his skin?
What was there below?

He had a whole band!
He was a whole band!
From his femur trombone
To his pan flute hand!

With one leg a guitar
(He knew how to strum it),
One forearm a flute,
The other a trumpet.

His tambourine head and
Belly bongo to bang
Kept him in time
As his whole body sang!

A fine saxophone spine
That could really roar,
A clanging cowbell heart
And a whole score more!

Every song is a jig!
Every step a hymn!
Make yourself happy,
Go hear Crim play Crim.

If I were a real boy
I’d know just what to do:
Yelp, crash, fall, crawl, leap, root,
Lick, scoot, laugh, toot, romp, chew.

If I were a real boy
I’d be nothing new.
I wouldn’t be “who knows?”
I’d be “you know who.”

If I were a real boy
The world would think me askew.
They would think that I’m off,
That I’m red when I’m blue!

If I were a real boy
I’d get thrown in the zoo!
But I’d be okay there,
It’s where the real girls are too.

Folks complain of rotten eggs,
Good eggs gone bad, bad, bad.
I say that means more eggs for me,
They say that I’ve gone mad! mad! mad!

This does not bother me a bit
For I don’t have to share
The glory of a ripened egg
(The best grow greenish hair).

Stew, steam, bake, boil, grind, grill,
Or have it scrambled by a clown.
Keep it simple I say,
Crack it wide and slurp it down.

Chefs should open up their minds.
Green Eggs and Ham – Have you read that book?
Say what you will of his writing,
Seuss knew how to cook!

Rotten eggs for rotten me
(We’re both sweeter than you think).
Something no one seems to get –
There’s nothing wrong with a good stink.

Drawn by Conor

Alex fell asleep, as always, to the lullaby
Of “ber-blubb, ber-blubb” thumping through his veins.
But when he woke the tune had changed and was less shy
And “ker-chunk, ker-chunk” now rattled round his brains.

He was slow to rise for his chest was sore
And wearing a white bandage coat.
As his legs found life and his feet found the floor,
His eyes found their way to a handsome note:

“Dearest Sir,

This is our Thank You, as it were.
No doubt by now you’ve heard the whirr
Of your brand new blood stirrer.
Yes, ’tis true. We took your heart.
Your new one’s metal, every part.
We built it for you, you made it start.
(It’s less science, more an art.)
So sorry to make you part machine.
We did not do it to be mean.
We need it for our brand new town.
Deep in the woods where we won’t be found
We build our home on hallowed ground,
But life we are and to life we’re bound.
Our town’s in need of a heart to live,
And here you are with one to give!
It will pump life through every door.
We’re quite thrilled for what’s in store.
Alexopolis shall hum and roar
Enlivened by your very core.
We thank you and we thank the stars.
We live by your heart and you live in ours.

Forever indebted,

-The Groggles”

Alex saw the trail of tiny footprints and was glad.
Glad that the Groggles had a good home somewhere out there.
Glad that his chest wasn’t hurting too bad.
Glad that he had a heart to share.

Drawn by Kyle

Tonight when told “Good night,”
And “Get yourself to bed,”
Agree the night is good,
Then come out with me instead.

Dreams are better lived
Than watched as they dance by.
Grab hold with both hands
Rather than your idle eye.

Once you’ve got a handful
You’re in for quite a ride.
But worrying is foolish
And I’ll be by your side.

Nightmares will seek you out,
Trust in dreams to get you through,
And you’ll rise to the surface
As black gives way to blue.

Make me a monster, a real aberration,
The beastliest brute of the proud monster nation.
Give him the skin of a rhino with odd patches of hair,
The legs of a spider, but the claws of a bear.
A beak full of fangs that always pour slobber,
A club of a tail, cocked back to clobber.
With spines on his back and the wings of a bat,
A cold crown of horns and the eyes of a cat.
Gift him a shriek that frightens the wind,
Make me a monster and I’ll have a friend.

Drawn by Brian

Drawn by Seth

Me, Puppy, Kitten, and Dwarf Hamster make four
Of the most powerful wizards this side of yore.
Just give us mud, we need nothing more,
And we’ll sling spells the world’s never seen before.
We are the Fearsome Foursome! Hear our roar!

(P.S. Sorry for the spell covered floor.)

Drawn by Raquel

Illustrated by Rachel

With Magic as my Mother,
And Mischief as my Dad,
My Life is like no other,
I’m the best of the bad.

Or is it the worst of the good?

Perhaps I don’t do as I should,
And not quite all I could,
But always what I would.

Drawn by Edgard