Woodillac

My shed is equipped with tools and power,

My secret, personal hickory tower.

I’m there more than unconscious in bed,

Creating with my hands is my mental bread.

Converting branches into spatulas and spoons,

Stumps into chairs with inlays of moons.

I listen to the wood, it tells me what to do,

Or at least gives me an opaque, grainy clue.

Sometimes simple, like a spatula from birch,

Or a bit harder, an oaken observatory perch.

This last project, though, it got me confused,

When racking my brain, I think it got bruised.

A car you can drive? Excuse me P. O. Wood?

Shouldn’t it be metal? I think it should.

But it couldn’t hurt, and I like the work,

Now I have a car but I’m going berserk.

I have to decide on how to name the bloody thing.

Woodillac? R.M.S. Teak-tanic. The Oax-wing?

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Gigantic cleaning

I got the inspiration for this while cleaning the house. I wonder how that happened…

 

A gigantic giant was cleaning his house,

(In my mind my hometown) and me just a louse.

He took a hoover, a jumbo jet long,

Hoovering the houses while singing his song

“Clean-thing cleans things till they’re good clean,

When things aren’t clean I get really mean.”

Not that clever, but gets to the point

Unlike some people we like to anoint…

Hoovered me in, me and my flat,

Sucked into the vortex, just like that.

Anticipating death in the darkness and the cold,

I was greeted by lamps quite functional but old.

The earlier round of people, giantly inhaled,

Had built a society that phoned and mailed.

My home landed right on the best real estate,

Right next to my I-thought-you’re-dead-best-mate.

As misfortunes go, I got pretty lucky,

After all, ho ho, it could’ve been more sucky.

Word hiding places

Some words hide inside their bigger friends,

Who knows why? To their own ends?

This might have some sort of meaning.

Most likely not, just my own screening.

 

There’s hat and eve hidden in whatever;

A double hiding place, that’s quite clever.

If Eve’s there, then where’s Adam?

Well he’s hitching a ride from madame.

There’s also bar in the word cabaret.

For these two it’s the opposite day.

You can find derp in underpay.

That’s what crap salaries do, or may.

There’s mist in the fancy armistice.

Both intangible and feel like a kiss.

Lend is living inside calendar:

Time’s not yours to keep? Yeah, sure.

Rat lives halfway through decoration

And in the walls of the railway station.

If you look hard, there’s semen in amusement.

Dirty jokes are fine, but not always an improvement.

Independence’s core is made of pen.

So literacy’s the key to sovereign men?

You can find bus one step from abuse.

That’s not true, I always enjoy a bus cruise.

Mom always said, there’s boo in booze.

Not that simple, depends on your screws.

A schooled nanny is very much like a banana:

A BA attached to a regular ‘ole nana.

An orchestra contains at least one chest

Woodwind or brass sections knows this the best.

Counterintuitively there’s ease in disease,

Don’t know why, though, it’s never a breeze.

 

This is just as funny as hide and seek.

Be back later, maybe after a week.

If you kiss and you miss

It’s rainy today, I miss the sunshine.

 

If you kiss and you miss and plant one on the arm

It’s okay, you’ve done no harm.

If you kiss and you miss you can just try again,

You’ll get it right come try number ten.

If you kiss and you miss and you do it real bad.

You might make the neighbor a bit sad.

So if you kiss and you miss, it’s rarely atrocious.

Just make sure the miss isn’t ferocious.

 

If you lick your pet tick you might get sick

Or drown him with your giant lick.

If you lick your pet tick it might taste like brick,

If that’s what’s he’s been burrowing in quick.

If you lick your pet tick you might teach him a trick,

To do a somersault on your tongue, a tick flick.

If you lick your pet tick and you get a small kick,

You shouldn’t do that, don’t be a hick.

 

If you ski with a bee, it doesn’t need skis.

It’ll ski with the wind and float in the breeze.

If you ski with a bee, watch out for a tree.

The bee won’t care but you might hurt a knee.

If you ski with a bee, and you’re completely at sea,

Ask the bee instructor, he’ll hear your plea.

If you ski with a bee and you see a banshee

Ear some beeswax and you can go free.