Bewilderment , USA
The leachate of ones' thoughts distilled from piles of manure,
may yet retain a certain "air" that some would deem impure.
Though roses it is rumored by all names would smell as sweet,
the stench of some of what I write could knock you off your feet!
Not everything, now mind you, in all fairness I must say,
for sometimes if the wind's just right it blows the other way.
A vision of some lush green grass beneath a sky of blue,
by-products of a fertile mind composted just for you.
But, other times in air becalmed odiferous scents arise,
an olfactory bombardment bringing teardrops to the eyes.
" What kind of freakin' lunatic could write such bombs?" yuh'd think,
" may the good lord please have mercy, Mother Mary, that plumb STINKS!"
Well, let me tell you something, while you're left gasping for air,
to pungently pontificate, I furthermore declare.
" As beauty is beholdin' to the eyes with which it's viewed,
if I were you I'd grab my nose and hold on tightly dude!"
"Cuz I'm just gettin started at perfectin' this here art,
and so the smell of sweet success remains a world apart!"
[This message has been edited by Dr.Moose1 (01-13-2004 06:08 PM).]