no human only writing dump

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Busy

And while they are busy growing up, they will close the book in which I am found And I will be a film of dust and cobwebs on yellowing paper

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I wish I were a magic fish

I wish I were a magic fish The kind, when freed, can grant a wish I'd shimmer golden in the light And not put up much of a fight My gift would bring me joy to share— Completely whelm the pain I'd bear

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A Little Dancing Bee Cont'd

"Yoo-hoo," I heard a sound From somewhere just below Surprised, I looked around But saw no place to go

"Down here," it came again So down, I turned my eyes I nearly stopped, but then I saw—a neat disguise!

"I saw your little dance" The butterfly spun 'round "Perhaps give me a chance?" I heard my bee heart pound

"A tango, see, takes two While I am only one But now that I've found you…" My sadness came undone

Together, we swapped moves And then made up a few We shared in jives and grooves In every style we knew

I am a little bee My friend, a butterfly She's worth my every knee Our dances fill the sky

A Little Dancing Bee (3/3)

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A Little Dancing Bee Cont'd

I came across an owl I danced a bouncy jig She gave snap and scowl I ducked behind a twig

I found a big raccoon He didn't like my tap And neither did the loon Who promptly took a nap

The night soon turned to day I met some marching ants I offered them ballet They marched on through the plants

The dormouse hated jazz The star-nosed mole was blind The squirrel had no pizzazz To waltz, the cat declined

I was a dancing bee But I could dance no more No creature wanted me I sat down, feeling sore

A Little Dancing Bee (2/3)

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A Little Dancing Bee

I am a little bee I do my little dance I want my friends to see But they don't spare a glance

I do a shimmy here I give a wiggle there Yet, nobody comes near In fact—I get a glare!

I pack my things and go Without saying goodbye To where, I do not know But through the night I fly

A Little Dancing Bee (1/3)

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I wish I were a room

I wish I were a room Of many pots in bloom A place its owner made Their joys in me displayed

A treasure room of sorts Without great halls or courts Through me, a heart is bared A person's wonder shared

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My life is better for having known you

You are the hospital's poster child I have seen patients speechlessly starstruck in your presence And volunteers drop everything to visit So, I'm sure you've been told it all before—

That you're brave, and strong, and incredibly charming Thoughtful, hopeful, and really very admirable There is no good word you've never heard

But you made me feel seen You learned my name and used it Chose me for things I'd not realised could matter And trusted me for me, even when I didn't

You are a joy and a delight and a spark in this world So even if there isn't a word befitting of it all My life is better for having known you

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I wish I were a bowl of rice

I wish I were a bowl of rice A simple base for something nice Add sweet or salty, wet or dry A friend on whom you can rely

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The Ballade of Punch the Monkey

Punch, little monkey, left behind: Your home must be a place you find Yet, in this cold and lonesome world You'll find your fairytale unfurled

Rejected from the very start Hold tight your gift; be still, your heart Though you will weather biting jeers Beyond the glass, the whole world cheers

I promise, someone comes to play In time, the bullies stay away Affection blooms, you find your place Protection from well-known disgrace

It's sad for now, but soon you'll see That who you are is good to be Your story brings much hope and joy You, precious Punch, and monkey toy

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I wish I were a stub of chalk

I wish I were a stub of chalk I'd play with children 'round the clock In vivid colours, we'd create Take any surface as our slate

Come wind and rain, I'd wash away Our drawings weren't meant to stay But this makes space for something new Creating is the journey, too

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Something Beautiful and Sad

There's a voice that keeps spitting in my head There are times that I wish it'd sing instead 'Cause even if its song would be a little bit more cynical I think the tune would make my mind a little bit less clinical And somehow it would prove itself as purely irrefutable When framed by bars my thoughts can seem entirely immutable

Why not watch yourself go mad To something beautiful and sad You could go spinning off in silence Or you could pick your own a triad! Why not question what you mean With a score to set the scene For once, it'd end when you decide it There is nothing else so clean

There's a clock that keeps ticking in my head And its click always fills my chest with dread 'Cause even when I take the pills, my heart will keep on hammering Imagine the percussion I could carve out with its clamouring A living beat to cut the haze that threatens unreality To drag me off the empty stage and wings by my mortality

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Unreal

I am words on a page, described A rough sketch on loose paper I am an idea, imagined, without dimension Observed from beyond the fourth wall

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The Maybe Fish Are Afraid

The maybe fish duck between tangled roots And huddle in crevices beneath large river rocks Hiding from the great shadow looming over the water Its dark form threatening to devour every last maybe

Even after the darkness has flowed downriver The maybe fish stay hidden Trembling and deeply afraid Of all the things that could one day consume them With all their secret maybes

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Gravity

It is the Universe; the grid; the mass of many great things The Earth beneath my throat; the Sun atop my stomach; the black hole inside my chest Pulling down, down, down To where everything is heavy and time does not pass And the world upon my shoulders seems impossibly far away indeed

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The Rusty Door

I'm not sure how the rusted door opened But it did, hinges shuddering The perfect storm, perhaps

And when it did, the curtains billowed Papers flew and plates fell, shattering Outside, a great wind howled Throwing bits of garbage and debris around the yard I rushed to pull this new door closed

But I heard the quiet clattering of things blown about And, before long, I opened the door again— Carefully (or so I thought) Just to check Just to see if the wind had calmed at all

And because it had not The curtains billowed, the papers flew, the plates fell down The garbage and debris were thrown at me The rusty hinges groaned their protest Yet did not put up quite as much of a fight

Despite what I could hear That tapping, raking, roaring storm outside I felt my fingers itch and my mind wander Right up to that strange new door To check, just to check To see if the wind still blew

Of course, it did And the curtains and papers and plates were thrown about And the garbage and debris swarmed me And from the hinges fell some rust red flakes

But still I had to check again Thoughts of door plaguing me In case, in case of what I didn't know I simply had to check again

The wind, the curtains, the things, The things flying inside and outside the house, Because of course, It's not like I didn't know, It's not like I expected otherwise,

But— But the wind— Check it again— Check it again—

Meanwhile, a little pile of red dust grew And the door got a little easier to open each time Rusty hinges exercised again and again Until the wind could tear it open With hardly my touch at all

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Imperfect Painting

I wonder if the world is made all the more beautiful by the way I don't belong After all, the subject doesn't see the choice of colours or careful brushstrokes I am an observer in awe, a viewer in love with a complex and imperfect painting

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I have a headache

Am I anxious? Am I thirsty? How much sleep was slept last night? Is there oxygen enough in here? Or are the lights too bright? Did I forget my glasses? When did I last wash my hair? Is my neck all tense? My posture shrimp-like in the chair?

Am I sick? Or over-socialized? My meds have side effects Perhaps my body's compensated? Drugs are so complex It's probably my period (I don't get PMS It's just a way to shrug things off, to make them matter less)

Is it a seizure warning? Or a migraine on its way? Did I smell some perfume, or another scented spray? Is this room too dusty? When and what did I last eat? Noise? Depression's lethargy? Autistic overheat?

A hundred other reasons that I couldn't get to rhyme I guess the only fix for this is Tiger Balm and time