Umbrellas
Umbrellas sticking out like poets indoors
Spreading open to cover the rain
Nonchalantly sipping tea
Eating lemon cookies
Breaking mirrors to see clearly
As the bed sits atop a loft
With a ladder leading up
Walking around the ladder once before bed
Then writing a poem for a poet
Another poet already dead
Inserting a penny heads down under my pillow
So I don’t have to agonize about others picking it up
Mornings rousing up
Putting my shoes on a horse
I heard it was good luck
I had to pay a rich man a buck for that course
Knocking on wood these days
Wood refers to a point in the pants
My bed is swathed with hats and I sprinkle salt on the floor
In case it rains indoors
It might turn to ice I think
I scream bloody Mary
And always rabbit on the Isle of
Portland
My leg stays shaking
Biting my nails at night
When I see a mocking bird
It always mocks me
So I have to mock it
I eat with my chopsticks upside down
In this mixed up
Philly town
My Ouija board tells me
What’s going to happen tomorrow
I love yelling
Macbeth
Whilst stalking Macbeth
And good luck
Is so much nicer then break a leg
They always counter with thank you
I’m sailing off to see
This Friday the 13th
I’m a sailor in my dreams
Always draped in blue
Grabbing a woman
Pulling her aboard although
She’s dreadfully clothed
And most importantly
I constantly walk on the cracks
Someone has to fill in the holes
The whole story that is
(An I for a T)
Umbrellas sticking out like poets indoors
Spreading open to cover the rain
Nonchalantly sipping tea
Eating lemon cookies
Breaking mirrors to see clearly
As the bed sits atop a loft
With a ladder leading up
Walking around the ladder once before bed
Then writing a poem for a poet
Another poet already dead
Inserting a penny heads down under my pillow
So I don’t have to agonize about others picking it up
Mornings rousing up
Putting my shoes on a horse
I heard it was good luck
I had to pay a rich man a buck for that course
Knocking on wood these days
Wood refers to a point in the pants
My bed is swathed with hats and I sprinkle salt on the floor
In case it rains indoors
It might turn to ice I think
I scream bloody Mary
And always rabbit on the Isle of
Portland
My leg stays shaking
Biting my nails at night
When I see a mocking bird
It always mocks me
So I have to mock it
I eat with my chopsticks upside down
In this mixed up
Philly town
My Ouija board tells me
What’s going to happen tomorrow
I love yelling
Macbeth
Whilst stalking Macbeth
And good luck
Is so much nicer then break a leg
They always counter with thank you
I’m sailing off to see
This Friday the 13th
I’m a sailor in my dreams
Always draped in blue
Grabbing a woman
Pulling her aboard although
She’s dreadfully clothed
And most importantly
I constantly walk on the cracks
Someone has to fill in the holes
The whole story that is
(An I for a T)
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