Maesyn and Bubonic the rat puppet perform a rendition of their Metaphysical Sleuthing poem "Otter Owls and Yin Yang Howls". ACHOO! (bless you!) YES you ARE!
I am congregating with my skin
My pores are pickling
I am breathing in and out
My lungs, like toes, are tickling
And we are the ones who makes everything fun
except when we are done and wed rather just run
From the speech masquerading as soul;
Squirrels are climbing a pole,
just to eat all the seeds that fall effortlessly
should they wait and be patiently baited
like all of the rest of the grass blades who mated for life
On the ground, speaking silence with sound.
(Whooo)
And the metaphysical sleuths throw snowballs at you,
One-upping the obvious schtupping of goo,
left behind when ice melts into stains on your pelt,
and youve nothing to say cept perhaps how you felt
But you dont. Because how real are feelings if illusion
is melting into ones and zeros of silent congealing confusion.
That finally makes sense. Or does it? Or will it eventually?
So why bother. Really.
And its safe behind the walls of abstraction
where we meet each other without real interaction
And the Oneness and twoness of eyeballs in unison
meet in the middle where they try to fiddle
and greet one another, but fools fall asunder
the tritisms of an electrical fence
that sizzles and fizzles and cowers when bent
by the blissfully unrequited satisfaction
Of hearts that pulse in rhythmic refractions
And songs that fly like owls
And satiate the yin yangs howls
And the soft words that melt
All the snowfall away
Theyre ironically timed
Like the clock and the chime
(tick tock)
Never really face to face
But floating gently in outer space
Where the cosmos roars
(ROAR!)
And the otters play
And laugh
(haha!)
As they always do.
And music is love.
Below and above.
thanks! I wrote this one about 3 years ago ... glad you like it! i love writing poetry!
rainnemaid 4 months ago