panda6.net

Thank you

And good night

I have no doubt

What I’ll dream about

So thank you

And good night

Curious Playful

I find myself especially happy today

And I know why

But at the same time I can’t explain it

And I’m curious

So the best things don’t yet

Have a word.

Spark

The spark of a star

Not near and not far

Hurtling toward me

Aiming for me

Tearing apart the silence before it

Yet I adore it

And will store it

Somewhere close

When I’m most

In need of a spark

And the random

I’m known for the random poetry, so let’s hear it

And no matter what – Don’t fear it

Like, like a clown with his little balloons

With, with a cracker a sock and a spoon

You say why do you write such a notion

A concoction of meaningless potion

Or a silky smooth drop of a lotion

That somehow, someway lubricates the gears

Stops the squeaking in my head

So I can sleep

Beat Down Fever

A koala named Marbles alone in the dark

He puts on a mitten and goes to the store

Buys a loaf of bread and gets change for the meter

And then says “Why is everyone looking at me?”

BECAUSE YOU STUPID KOALA

You’re only wearing one mitten.

Dumbass!

A thousand moons revolve

Around eachother

And love or hate

Destroys all that’s great

Once we choose we cannot have the other

A thousand moons collide

Into eachother

And turn to flame,

An everlasting pain

It remains for our sisters and brothers

So hold on tight

To the ones you love

When they’re gone,

And you are all alone

There’s nothing left to hide from

Asspanda, asspanda, where have you gone?

Your breadcrumbs were eaten by dogs.

Are you lost in the forest, or down by the lake,

Or perhaps in a restroom at a strip club?

Stay far away from the gingerbread house,

The woman inside is a crazy lesbian

With guns, a whip and a unicycle.

I shall seek you out and find you,

And I will save you,

And we’ll go right back to that strip club bathroom,

‘Cause I lost my car keys and I think I left them there

Next to my old thong.

Asspanda come home!

There is but one,

The final piece,

The dying breath,

The only way.

The death of a good thing,

Or a life on the bound.

Quietly, down from the trees

He slips out of the night.

Dodging predatory bats,

Avoiding any light.

The panda goes to Starbuck’s

And buys a cup of jo’.

He sits and reads the newspaper

Until he has to go,

And eat bamboo and stuff.