in the backyard of my confusion, lied a remedy buried deep.
Hidden far away, where even the soil keepers have fallen asleep.
locked away as a time capsule, with a sturdy and indifferent axle.
And absurd words tweeted by flightless birds.
one or two from three and nine : a stage to mine.
encrusted with the rust of the earth.
faced with festivals of mirth.
saddled by the passages of my struggle fence.
I stand in court as the devil’s advocate-seeking recompense!
for my living right, avoiding the night, shadows hiding in plain sight!
far back alongside the distant seas!
scented flowers and trees blow with a breeze,
gathering my attention.
not to mention the rhyme slime.
that’s probably already a grind to your ears as an annoying past time.
shooting stars , passing cars : energy misplaced _ fitness gone to waste.
broken on the spine, foundation soon to be base.
maybe i’ll walk with a oak shillelagh, in hope that my step will be careful and true.
maybe i’ll dance with a wooden canopy while yodeling on the who!
maybe i’ll plunge with a strong and sturdy stick to penetrate through the concrete brick.
maybe i’ll be ran over by the impatient ones in the grocery aisle, with vampire teeth as their smile.
maybe i’ll count the time it takes to be 10/10 fine.
maybe i’ll mount the stacks on a dime.
maybe i’ll have a stable case to shoot the mace.
right inside their eye, a bright fiery potion, swallowing inside their ocean.
sheeeit, maybe ill strut with an oak shillelagh, and beat my drum with my wand and ukulele.