Wolf pack

On my first day, I was pretty nervous.

My first day of entering binding service.

I find the location and look around,

When somebody comes to greet this poor, lost clown.

“Welcome to the Wolf Pack,

I’ll show you the ropes.

Hunting with us is a knack,

But I have high hopes.

Our formation has a hole,

Just jump right in.

Our target is a foal,

Rip and tear at its shin.

Followed by communal eating.

Scenery very panoramic.

Then, a feedback meeting

Improving the group dynamic.

Welcome aboard again.

Our motto: Fangs and brain.”

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World of dust

Don’t get curious when you’re cleaning.

Hazardous, that, if you get my meaning.

My little brother, he was only eight,

He’s very little, not packing much weight.

On the powerful vacuum so fascinating,

He did some too thorough eye-investigating.

It sucked him right in, with a loud hiss.

When mother came she saw something was amiss.

She looked under the couch and above the refrigerator

She looked high and low, a real investigator.

No sign of little brother, none whatsoever.

A disaster like this, it’s not enough to be clever.

My baby brother now lives among the dust

In a world without a sun. now he must

Find his way out if he is ever able

In the dark, with a stick, a piece of a cable.

Spring fauna

The spring sun now shines all the way down.

I can feel it on my brown arm and my frown.

The night is losing its endless fight,

Time spent awake no longer too tight.

Especially because of the local fauna,

Going crazy in the morning like Madonna.

Screeching and chirping at 5 am,

It’s not like I never want to hear them,

But, as you know, sleep is nice,

And 5-ish hours do not suffice.

So, any birds reading this right now,

Mating calls only after nine would be wow.

A humane tourist destination

There are rumors circulating that this started as a your mamma joke. There is a chance that the rumors might not be false.

 

An eating disorder was what she had,

It didn’t make her distressed or mad.

She would eat and eat, and combined with

A rare gene defect, thought to be a myth,

She would grow and grow, never to stop,

Until she was the town’s permanent backdrop.

The tourism board started thinking,

Par for the course, while heavily drinking.

She was declared a tourist destination,

The tourists ferried all the way from the bus station

To marvel at the world’s newly largest mammal.

Some even offered to buy her a pet camel.

She now has a steady stream of visitors and food,

The former of which only rarely rude.

All in all, things are okay,

Life goes on, as they say.

Dooming a Dutchman

You doomed a Dutchman to fail the tulip season

In Holland that is equivalent to treason.

The bulbs of the Dutchman will never sprout

He’s in jail and he might get out

When Holland is no more under the threat

Of masses of water, cunning and wet.

To be fair, in your defense,

It doesn’t make that much, or at all, sense

That you shouldn’t wash them thoroughly before

You store them in a cupboard for a year or more.

Now, instead of bulbs, he only found mold,

Which might be worth a tiny bit less than gold.

Tiger bone waterfall

In the hills in Southeast Asia, there is a waterfall

It is not gigantic, nor especially tall,

But it has beauty, like no other

Given by the bones of an old tiger mother.

Bones in the plunge pool, buried long ago

By monks in robes, careful and slow.

Bones of a goddess, colossal and fierce,

Beautiful, strong, with eyes that pierce.

God that died in a war of gods

Struck down by the god of war’s bamboo rods.

What little magic is left in the bones

Gives the waterfall and its smoothed-out stones

A verdant green glow, vivid and alive,

The plants all around cannot but thrive.

Sawdust in the air

I was sawing some planks into pieces today, and this started playing in my head to the tune of Walking in the air, composed by Howard Blake.

 

Sawdust in the air

Floating in the clear, blue sky

My lungs are full of it, as well as are my eyes

 

I already lost my sight

And it burns like hell, it’s true

The sky, it now looks brown, for me not perfect blue

 

The fungi and the mold

Have found their brand new home in me

Took over everything, from forehead to my knee

 

I cough blood in the night and I scratch my eyes

My throat is dry, my sheets are red, a wonderful surprise

 

Sawdust in the air

My head feels so very light

The noises far away, the lamps always so bright

 

The doctors say, it’s too late, what happens now, we know

I don’t believe, this is real, it can’t be my time yet to go

 

Sawdust in the air

Floating in the clear, blue sky

Like the sawdust did for me, the clouds are passing by