Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Fit for Nothing Except to Bust

I like to write nonsense in rhyme,
Sometimes I do it all the time,
Because I then read what I write,
As folly goes that’s quite a height,
I’ve nothing important to say,
I am no use in any way,
This verse reflects what I am now,
As much waste, as space will allow.

I used to be useful it’s true,
I used to help people like you,
Now I can barely help myself,
And not fall from this dusty shelf,
The one thing that I have still got
Laughter saves me from quite a lot,
If I didn’t laugh I would cry,
For a wasted life and then die…

Dye death any colour but blue,
That pale misty favourite hue,
Hew down weeds that would choke others,
Greed beauty and goodness smothers,
Lies poison everything in sight,
Site the liars in the spotlight,
Spot the difference find the ball,
Fined, the selfish wouldn’t win all.

This song wrote itself in the dark,
Rather like a quantum strange quark,
Now you don’t see it then you do,
And there may be more in the queue,
Cue Father Christmas on his slay,
Reindeer flying such a long way,
Sleigh the bitter thought you it kills,
Dance in the rain dear; forget ills.

Nonsense rules, no sense is OK,
Good thing with me it has to stay,
I laugh at the devil in me,
To shrink it in size so I see,
Clearly over it and around,
Whilst keeping my feet on the ground,
On the deck of this ship that flies,
Through space spinning to each sunrise.

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