Songbook

In warped mechanical robes,

The royal parrot carries the bottle.

In the sunset clouds, afloat

And with a glass beard I dream.

For macaroons on my grocery list,

Written on an old gothic-style typewriter.

You could tell from the war-torn knobs

That it been used in the ancient battles.

And in the underworld, fifty fathoms down,

I clutch my list of lost places, all green.

Like a budding flower on a cliffside,

Seasick from the wind and pelican attacks.

And in car rides to San Diego, I ask:

"The hamster wheel, or the basted turkey leg?"

The only choice a man must make in this world

Worth all the gold in pharaoh's tomb.

Upon a restless turtle ride, only crashes.

Dimes and other pieces of money.

Open for yoga practice, with all kinship.

Just a small and pretty habit.

When the bright star shines, and the comets pour,

And all things in due time, once shattered.

To those falcons, everlasting, evermore, 

Remain standing, and without regret.

Roses are red, the ocean is blue.

I gave my Valentine a packet of Gu.

It says "Joey" on the back of my shoe.

I had 'em made at "Nike by You."

I'm a fan of the Who, and of the Wu,

Carlos Santana and Metallica, too.

And since I've been back from Honolulu,

Where I had ran a four twenty-two,

Running Big Sur is what I will do.

So happy Valentines Day to you,

And if I run out of rhymes, I'll write a haiku.