Everyday Majestic Musings

Plant a pickle, grow a pickle, take a pickle, owe a pickle.
Eat a pickle, slurp a pickle, smoke a pickle, blow a pickle. *
Slice a pickle on the table with a scalpel, surgeon's practice.
Put a pickle in a pot of sandy soil, prickless cactus.
Whisper secrets to a pickle, cold and green and wetly glistening.
Pickle doesn't care what you said, not so very good at listening.

* - This line is sex euphemisms, and I think that's very funny.

9. A farmer works for years in the fields
8. by carthorse hooves and steel plough wheels
7. grinding ground to greater yields
6. from birth until she keels.
5. To market she wields
4. with "Farm Fresh" seals
3. veg unpeeled.
2. Who'll deal?
1. We'll.

Two monkeys dance a wild tango
'round the jungle, hither yon,
together faster than they can go
alone through the Amazon.
They crash right through some prickly bushes,
gallup off a precipice.
Sprawling, falling, cold wind rushes
in their ears, all hope is gone.
They should have looked where they were going,
but the monkeys won't be missed.

I sit here eating a burrito,
wondering why it looks pink.
My stomach churns, I feel uneasy.
Suddenly extremely queasy,
I barely make it, not so easy,
to throw it all up in the sink.

As I queue here at the bank,
my mind goes roaming like the tank
that, stolen, rampaged San Diego,
mashed some cars like baked potatos,
knocked down poles and fire hydrants,
back in 1995.

The thief, they said a jobless plumber,
grabbed the craft and pulled a runner
down the streets on top of traffic,
smashing, crashing, wreaking havoc,
to run amok ignoring sirens
on the last day of his life.

So, anyway, I stand and wait,
and as I do I contemplate
the lives of folks and all their capers
that get their names in all the papers.

And with my musings here in line,
it seems to me that Michael Jackson
dangling his baby Blanket
from the balcony on four
did not ever stop to think
about all of the media stink
at little Jr on the brink
of reaching abruptly the floor.