Haven
by Happy Hiram
Whitney Singing with the choir
Poets reach what they aspire
clocks go back
no problems tack
there is no muck and mire.
Lenny Bruce comes for the ride
complains there's no underside
he can't mock
'cause peace ain't schlock
so it sucks being snide.
Orchids bloom, 'till the girls all swoon
hot chicks hang in every room
candles dancing
light romancing
love that tucks away the tomb.
Whiskey, water, wine and ale
"Drink up, boys! We soon set sail!"
Devastation
to limitations.
Just grab your ruck for the rails.
Fishing for the less venturous
no one's here to censure us
Grab a pipe,
I think I might!
(It makes me look more lecherous!!)
Peace at home for young and spry
Coffee, tea and apple pie
spitting needs
like melon seeds
who needs what or where or why?
In the midst I see it calling
snowy cherry blossoms falling
at the end of miseries wailing
nothing ending, sick or failing;
coming out of life's tunnel
birthing from a pastry funnel
to a life like a wedding cake
no uncertainty or mistake
a chance to harbor our souls and heal;
a pity heaven isn't real.
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