What do writers do when they run out of reality to cipher,
Switch to fiction hoping their cerebral cortex grows hyper,
Sparking imagination our natural default setting,
So I shouldn't be surprised over ideas I'm getting,
Let's say a giant sleeps in my cellar and an alien in my attic,
Should I expect my friends to meld vibes with this static?
It's not up to me how readers interpret my writing,
I only hope it doesn't inspire idiotic episodes or fighting,
Like the two interlopers of my dwelling do while I'm asleep,
They argue telepathically not making a peep,
Each one wants to rule the roost when I'm not home,
Neither are privy to me including them in this poem,
They have no idea that I'm aware of their presence,
I think I'll pen them each a letter welcoming their residence,
Then we could live together as a family of misfits,
Taking pride in our differences not one of us hypocrites,
How happy I am now as we eat our meals together,
We discuss family trees instead of small talk of weather,
I've learned of secret civilizations from outer space and middle Earth,
How lucky we three found out the worth of each others birth.
Farls Tokley
YOU ARE READING
Bark Has Bite feat. Carbuncles
PoetryA mixed bag, next handful a whole new ball game. This collection of poems was born from Sunday drives with parents as a kid and doing the same with my son. It's fun to listen to our favourite music and watch the scenery fly by. As a teenager and yo...
