ODE TO A WANNABE WINGER
The newt had four legs; had a will; had to fly
With a splash left the earth, left the earth for the sky.
The avian ringer, the wannabe winger,
The newt, un-feathered, with a will; it was I.
Like the starling, every living thing known to man seeks unity.
Like the ant, every living thing including man, follows a focus which may not be traceable.
Only Man may say “Let me off at the next corner”.
Like man, everything in the universe seeks safety.
Like man, everything in the universe seeks the shortest path in that direction.
Only man may choose to enjoy the trip.
The WHAT of life is found ‘neath the neck.
The WHO resides in the head.
What I want to know by zippety-zot
Is Who is this in my bed?
The body’s familiar, it has two legs.
But who’s at the other end?
A woman it seems, she’s not a horse.
So what path down was I led?
This must be a dream, of course that is so.
Another one’s coming and
Off I shall go
THE ALL – IMPORTANT WHATCHAMACALLIT
Forget about faith. I return to the search. Focused once more on the dearth of confused denizens and to the rediscovery of the all important Whatchamacallit.
No more shall I affirm the mumbling meanderings of my fellows. I’m yellow to the core; No more, shall I wonder how to best rephrase the kitsch, the common, the trite and make them right by moving deftly to the left, No, No.
I shall flow with the go of the gone and those ideas deemed wrong by buddies of mine, as they rhyme about reason and treasonous gifts to the self.