I Wonder What Will Happen

Will the world end
Won't the world end
Where to send my thoughts
Happiness is achieved
Where acceptance increases
But where to send my thoughts
Perhaps amongst a grave
of metal
for animals, distraught, to
clear from the shelves of
human existence
afterwards.
Who knows where to go
Once hell dies and
life flies rapidly to a halt
of relaxation, basking in
the values imprinted on the
skies and in the hearts of the
good

Defending the Leaves

Leaves, gentle gentle leaves,
how I long to defend you
as you lend me your secrets
and inform my spirit about life,
hidden, secret alive and well,
And not yielding to the
keys of human existence

God

Power a tower
Each to his eternity
And of course to his
Or her fraternity

Genes

Beauty, where beauty isn't enough,
Success, grabbing at my voluminous
breast - I mean of course the one
that creates abundance, singing to
the refrain of night, disquieting reality,
in its fight to successd in artifical
life and creating genes we can all live with.

The World

How to ban ugliness out of the world,
Curl up on a rug in front of the fire,
and listen to advice,
And not wonder why one's beauty is
chosen to live,
In pain, an island in this srange
reality of mine

Sex

Sex and money,
I don't think it's very funny.

Emergency

No, the media can't summon a lethal pandemic however hard it tries and it seems war is no answer either as this would be self destruction as well, so it seems we'll have to try it with birth control. How about a concerted effort to promote it world wide by everyone over-populations being the worst environmental problem we have. And regarding all the other environmental problems I suggest we discontinue our petty pursuits immediately, even if it means we have to feed each other for nothing and confront the emergency situation we have in a unified and effectove fashion.

Define a Witch

Please define a witch
is it one who can switch reality?
heal, but how much profanity can she sustain?
That varies from witch to witch.
Personally, my bare instincts are realistic
But my mother prefers Christ
What does one do?
Just live life,
And try to be true,
To him, to her and to you.

The Thing with the Smelly Bum

The thing with a smelly bum
is around again,
spoiling my fun,
sense of adequacy and success.
What is it?
Is it God the sadist?
Well I'll make him glum
if I can,
But we'll see. It may be difficult.
Now,
I've lost my poetic thread instead.
Why aren't people
Made like trees,
consisting of beautiful leaves,
prepared to fall as the sun and night dictate.

I demand a professor a year,
That would deter the drear.
O dear, he's not dead. It's
only in my head,
And life becomes life again.

How strange I am,
But then others can be too, I suppose,
And I am interested in the esoteric after all,
As well as in everything else,
So I propose let the professors live instead.

Life

Life is a sod
On which I unfortunately trod
sixty-one years ago