Where do I go when I’m fast asleep,
And what do I do when I get there?
Surely there’s some wandering
Through strange, but familiar, lands.
Is this the place I inhabit
When Death opens my eyes anew?
Is Now but a Dream,
As the philosopher said,
So many years ago?
What are my plans?
What is my purpose?
My mind, it wanders so…
Remind me, please, just one more time,
And tell me where I go!
Tomato soup’s a vegetable now.
Just thought you’d like to know.
My, what a crunchy bite,
As it spills upon your toes.
Messy, yes, but who should care,
As it runs into your eyes
And dribbles all over your hair.
The Government said, then you know it is true.
But they’re just pulling one over on you.
Good in my salad, sandwiches, too.
That sloppy tomato soup vegetable
Has nowhere else to go!
Rutgers, Beefsteak, New Jersey, too.
All poured together in one little can,
Mixed with lots of other stuff,
Chemicals, from around the land.
Slurp it up real fast before it runs off the plate.
Hurry! Hurry! You’re already almost too late!
LOOK at you…with your shirt all full of SPOTS,
Pretending that they’re just POLKA DOTS!
To tell you the truth,
I really don’t give a hoot.
But let me just remind you,
Tomato’s actually a fruit!
I ride a broom ‘cause it’s convenient,
And not for any other reason.
That old thing starts at will,
It’s good for any season.
Higher and higher, it goes to the moon!
Higher and higher, it dispels my gloom!
Witch they call me,
Which they may.
I’ll tower above them when I’m old and gray!
Ha! Ha! Ha! I cackle out!
You all sit there and cradle your gout!
While I sit upon my broom,
And ride from here on a sonic boom!
Just like that block of marble
Sheltering its hidden figure.
Just waiting for the sculptor
To remove all that it is not.
Within each body lies the Soul
Who awaits challenges.
To chip and pierce and
Remove what IT is not.
Leaving a Shining Beauty
With shell just falling about.
That marvelous piece of Architecture
With Wonder climbing out!
Give a drop of water
To him who withers on the vine.
Give a drop of kindness
To him who isn’t kind.
For he who really needs love
Is crying deep within.
He hasn’t enough to sustain himself,
So help him to begin.
The first step is smiling
At the one who scowls at you.
His poor soul is so lonely
He has nothing else to do.
So smile at the heart in trouble,
And show him someone cares.
The memory will last inside him
And will ease the sorrow he bears.
And in the years that follow
He’ll remember the nameless face,
Of one who reached a hand out
And steadied him place.
Perhaps he’ll even extend his hand
To another despairing soul,
Who’ll remember yet in other years
When he has reached his goal.
Where’s my instruction booklet?
Did my mother throw it away?
I never came with one…
Is that what you want to say?
Then how do you expect me to adjust all the parts
That seemed to come with me?
Who takes care of the liver, spleen, brain, and heart?
And how do they know just what to do?
Looks like I’m some sort of a balancing act,
Chemist, Biologist, Cosmotologist, too.
But I need to overhaul my memory,
Who’s in charge of that?
Just can’t find the reset, clearing button.
Am I on permanent “erase?”
By the way,
Don’t want to ask and don’t want to find out,
But what’s my expiration date?
Today is Libra’s birthday. She was such a big part of the family.
She’s been gone 30 years…still miss her so.
Of course, she was NOT allowed on the bed!
That big glob of molecules stands out there and barks.
Runs while in constant motion, has herself a lark.
She, who is not solid, stands there big as life.
That whirling mass of molecules fills my world with strife.
And as she runs, I wonder, as electrons spin and whirl,
“Suppose she loses part of her,
Will she in opposite directions hurl?
And will she keep her poise?
How can something, who is not really there,
Make so darned much noise?”