Wiley Words…by richard lynn livesay

I will not blacken the threads of the swine

Nor paint the toes of buffalos

I cannot stay in the pouch of a louse

I’m cry’n

Searching for cheese in the house of a mouse

There is more to life than Santa Fe or Taos

And the sky isn’t blue because it’s not new

I’m sigh’n

When more lanes reach the window panes

And split the glass with far less class

Than glare in the face of the stormy cranes

I’m try’n

Never to contain nor try to train someone insane

Not with a blue teddy bear in my long underwear

Absurd without plenty of help from urgent care

I’m dy’n

There is no pinpoint profusion to all this confusion

As the rhyme’s not in time and of course I’m ly’n

‘cause I can’t pick my teeth with your Christmas wreath

 No deny’n                                                                                                               

A poet on the wrong track and East of Eden’s snake pit

Should think about becoming a graffiti artist or spit kit

As the odds of reaching “stardom” are infinitesimally dismal

Relax, no fax or income tax, just take it to the max, no cracks

A game of association; blue-red will get you dead before bed

But the trained brain will complain about the season for unreason