mom told me not to write poems about god so I don't anymore
just as god doesn't write poems about me on his front-garden door
"look at the lilies!" mama said to baby-me "look at the lilies
that god grows in his front-garden; look how they all bow on their lily-knees!"
"but mama" said baby-me "why do all the lily-mouths say always please?"
"because" mama said "a bended knee, means a humble plea"
"humble", to baby-me, sounded like a hubba-bubba bubblegum bumblebee
so baby-me said, "if I'm ever gonna have a hubba-bubba bubblegum bumblebee
I'm gonna name it humble!" so mama said to me - the baby "but honey,
never forget that that which squeezes honey, also stings its thorns so deeply"
but baby-me didn't hear this for a nosey fly flew through my nose
into my loose-laced baby-blue shoes and lounged on the floor playing poker
while it blew smoke-rings through jacks of spades and queens of hearts
"i don't like flies" frowened I, the baby, to mama "their wings smell of pee."
"so you would feel that you're-in danger and that they spread history of feecees and urine"
the voice of moma flowed free as the sea in my ear
"why can't fleas be like bumblebees?" baby-me, posed the inquiry to momma.
momma slowly turned towards me and droped down on both knees,
("momma is a lilly!" is what the baby which was me thought upon the sight)
layed her petals on my shoulders and her pistil in my pupils
and the ovule of her mouth spoke as thus:
"for god made both flowers and feecees, both bumblebees and fleas,
flowers and feeces sharing the same earth - flowers feeding ferrets,
ferrets freeing feecees, feecees fertilizing fields, fields forming flowers -
bumblebees and fleas sharing the same flight - flight for fleas, flight for bumblebees-
but although all these, never will we find a flea float for a flower
nor a bumblebee flee foreby feecees"
now momma-lilly lays in the front-garden with all the other knees of lillies;
and I - no more a baby - I lounge on the floor at the front-garden door
playing poker while blowing smoke-rings through jacks of spades and blonde queens of dame hearts
while writing poems about god
and waiting for the hubba-bubba bubblegum bumblebee named
humble
but baby-me didn't hear this for a nosey fly flew through my nose
into my loose-laced baby-blue shoes and lounged on the floor playing poker
while it blew smoke-rings through jacks of spades and queens of hearts
"i don't like flies" frowened I, the baby, to mama "their wings smell of pee."
"so you would feel that you're-in danger and that they spread history of feecees and urine"
the voice of moma flowed free as the sea in my ear
"why can't fleas be like bumblebees?" baby-me, posed the inquiry to momma.
momma slowly turned towards me and droped down on both knees,
("momma is a lilly!" is what the baby which was me thought upon the sight)
layed her petals on my shoulders and her pistil in my pupils
and the ovule of her mouth spoke as thus:
"for god made both flowers and feecees, both bumblebees and fleas,
flowers and feeces sharing the same earth - flowers feeding ferrets,
ferrets freeing feecees, feecees fertilizing fields, fields forming flowers -
bumblebees and fleas sharing the same flight - flight for fleas, flight for bumblebees-
but although all these, never will we find a flea float for a flower
nor a bumblebee flee foreby feecees"
now momma-lilly lays in the front-garden with all the other knees of lillies;
and I - no more a baby - I lounge on the floor at the front-garden door
playing poker while blowing smoke-rings through jacks of spades and blonde queens of dame hearts
while writing poems about god
and waiting for the hubba-bubba bubblegum bumblebee named
humble
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