Uses of mountains

Economy class for beginners:

Exploiting nature for winners.

Natural formations are too lazy,

Not as efficient as Mr. Scorsese.

Let’s take mountains. How can we

Use them for profit? Invent you three!

You there, Don, what do you think?

Give me ideas spiced with a wink!

“That’s a real toughie, aint’ it Bill.

How can you use a heavyweight hill?

A brand new fad? Brobdingnagian books?

Big enough to make NASA throw some looks.

We can sell them a big book stand,

Lean them on hills and don’t bruise the land.”

That will do, Don, you’ve got the stuff,

I’m pretty sure we can sell that bluff.

Tell me, Connie, your POV,

Have you a genious-y marketing clue?

“Well I don’t know, arduous it seems.

Do we sell rejuvenating creams?

We could grind every mountain to dust,

Infuse it with lard and color with rust,

Tanning lotion that makes you young?

Firm as stone on your cheek and bum.”

You’ve got a corker, that’s for sure,

We can sell that for one for four.

Last, not least, tell me Bjorn,

How can we wave our income horn?

“The solution’s as clear as a very clear thing.

Consult a president, emperor or king.

For a small fee we won’t blow them up,

Everest won’t fit into a tiny Dixie cup.

Plus, if they’re there, tourists all over,

Just charge them for looking at grass or a clover.”

Bjorn, Bjorn, Bjorn, you’re my fav,

You’re like Buddha come out from his cave,

Dispensing wisdom so we can make a killing,

Let’s get to work, my pockets need filling!

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Pinkie toe

At the time of the day when I can’t think,

A monster bit my pinkie toe pink.

When I was a dinosaur looking for a crown,

It pierced my skin that’s almost brown.

I woke up shouting at my dreams,

Now my toe’s bursting out of its seams.

It’s a bit too friendly for its quite small size,

It hugging its neighbor leads to my cries.

It got lazy in the same stroke as well,

If I walk, it’ll moan like hell.

It looks like it was a Finn in the sun,

Burned to the shade of flamingo-bun.

Environmentally friendly like the I-revolution,

The red streak spreading in my deep red solution.

As I write, it’s reached my knee,

It’s aiming for my chest is what I see.

If it gets to my heart as I know it will,

It’ll spread itself like Cher-no-byl.

Turn me pink inside and out,

Swoll me up like a boxer’s bout.

This is why we still need knights,

They’ll slay those monsters of our nights.

Ride their billowing horses of cotton,

What monsters? More like piles of mutton.

After that we won’t get bit,

I can sleep in peace and that’d be it.

That time’s not yet so I’ll call a cab,

To a white room and lay on the slab.

One fine day

I gave my mom’s special cook book a peak,

Found the right page after” uses of leek”.

She has the recipe for one fine day

There’s alternates, but she’s got the best way.

It said there to use music as the base,

It’s very solid and wins every cooking race.

A layer of listening first thing after waking,

Another of singing with added head shaking,

A third of playing the uke or cowbell,

You can add dancing in there as well,

(I’ve got no rhythm so I look like Kermit,

But it’s ok, you don’t need a permit.)

Graffiti comes as the whipped cream top,

Write a story or a poem or some hip hop,

(You’re so unoriginal even trees serve you,

Roses red, violets blue, doo-do-doo-doo.)

Cook it in hot sunshine for about a day,

Enjoy it slowly, as slowly as you may.

Squirrel king

My apple tree branches droop more than before,

Some broken on the ground, on the lawny floor.

The mud is covered with tracks pretty deep,

Indentations where the water does seep.

The bird feeder fell down to the damp grass,

The tallow ball missing, shards of glass.

The big birch tree is leaning on its side,

On which pinecones lie, eaten and dried.

A big enough pile to hide a big cat,

Made by a squirrel so very fat.

A swollen squirrel in my yard,

Breaking trees, stealing the lard.

Jelly-belly tree rat eating trees bare,

Eating your chair if you don’t take care.

I saw it rolling from tree to another,

I pointed this out to my young baby brother,

He cracked up like I knew he would,

A squirrel as fat as the friend of Robin Hood,

Fat and fluffy it rolled downhill,

Rolled pretty fast, that is until,

It had to climb a tree, a bit too much,

Summoned its servants to act as a crutch.

A squadron of sparrows swooped down from the sky,

Lifted it up and said no bye bye.

In its throne, the far, furry king,

Waving a scepter of an old bee’s sting,

Pine cone crown rounds its big ears,

It has ruled my garden for many years,

And it will, barring a stroke,

That its fat just might provoke.

Bike lock fruit

I found a bike lock tree in the woods,

Right now it’s very ripe with fruits.

Fruit tree of steel with a light on the top,

You need a special axe if you want to chop.

I can see seven fruit where i stand,

Red and blue and green and, and…

They’re all round with plastic skin,

And they’re shaped like Totoro’s grin.

Just pick one down and peel the key out,

Ripe enough and you just have to shout.

Back wheel hug with the bike lock fruit,

Never be afraid of the tandem-thief newt.

Pineappler of power

I am the pineappler of power,

When someone abuses their control,

I come around and I glower.

I know what they have done,

I see the cats they’ve kicked,

Things I miss are none.

You think you were born a king,

You will change your stagnant mind,

As I start to sing.

The melody of oceans,

Will make you hypnotized,

You’ve made your last motions.

Your skin will harden with spikes,

Your hair will turn green and grow,

Mouth gone, no more “yikes”.

Abuse your absolute dominance,

I will ananasize you,

Don’t miss my song’s prominence.

Piranhas’ dental health

Don’t stand so close to me please,

It’s a bit too tight on this small trapeze,

If you squeeze in just a bit more,

The piranhas’ teeth will soon be sore

With all the piercings I and you have,

They’d tear through us like a drunk chav,

Would not mind your studs or rings,

My platinum plate and other such things.

So, please, don’t stand so close,

Dentist fish are rarer than most,

They would have to wait for weeks,

Relying on nurse-gulls helpful beaks,

To give them food pre-chewed and mushy,

To help their teeth get their daily brushy.

There’d be problems in piranha town,

All on sick leave, no one around.

The fishy book store on gills and kelp,

Would be no-service, just self-help.

If you wanted to send a p-card,

You’d have to make it special, sea starred,

Their first class and carried by rays,

Seven coral pieces for just two bays!

So please don’t push me and please don’t fall,

Imagine what’d happen to the piranha’s mall.