IT'S-A-DUO'S-HEATED-HEARTS
From a block of ice
he is thawed.
Brought back to life,
a youth unflawed.
For a hundred years
was frozen he.
Frozen at the age
of twenty-three.
Twenty-three also
is the pretty-girl
he will then meet
in this new world.
Is he far too old ?
Is she sure too young ?
A hundred-and-twenty-three
but still handsome.
Perhaps it will be -
despite warm hearts -
their two minds will say
"We are worlds apart" ?
TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE ?
"Hi, I'm your local god.
Dropped down to say hello.
Last time I journeyed here
was two-thousand-years ago.
Yes I have twin-heads,"
said the man from space.
"I prefer talking to myself
and not the human race.
Look at how time flies.
I guess I've got to go.
Fare you well strangers,
till next I say hello."
JUST THE JOURNEYMAN
WAS JOE
They said that old Joe
was nothing but a hobo,
American for tramp.
He sure was no boho,
short for bohemian, y'know.
But yes a freeway scamp.
The freeway, the highway,
the roadway bum.
A truck along tumbleweed,
trucking, tumbling on.
They said that old Joe
was far from a boho,
and far away from town.
Nothing about him artistic,
being far too realistic,
too real to settle down.
Just a journeying hobo,
not a travelling boho
lost in his art.
Just a journeying hobo,
not a travelling boho.
Spied a town, quickly to part.
No comments:
Post a Comment