~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
Why pretend that parents are wise beyond all telling?
I say this for the record: Something rotten I am smelling!
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
If police come knock, knock, knocking, and the census taker notes
That you are a foreign person, board your boat while it still floats!
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
In the poor, white cardboard shanties gold and silver may be found,
But take care, O treasure seeker, that the gold does not confound.
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
Do not ditch the native speaker,
You’ll be glad that she’s around
When the jungle vines come creeping,
And your own tongue can’t be found.
Who can make sense out of nonsense?
Who can make hell holy ground?
Only those who speak the language
Of the things that make no sound.
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #177
More Poetry Pantry #418 at Poets United