Friday, 15 April 2016


There's an elephant on my shoulder
A caterpillar in my eye
And a monkey with a tambourine
Who always likes to sigh
There's an angel on my shoulder
There's a burden and a myth
And a man without a periscope
Who says his name is Smith
There's a dragon on an earlobe
There's a tattooed tangerine
That used to play the mandolin
Whenever it was seen.
There's a weapon in a headlock
And a mask of Kubla Khan
That's speaking to a lady
Whose head's stuck in a barn
There's a whistle and a message
There's a zebra spotting bear
And a monkey with a mirror
Who says he isn't there.
There's a space between the letters
There's a line around the edge
There's a bird who plays the fiddle
Who is nesting in a hedge.
There's a printer and a paper
And a journalist or two
There's a pot of peanut butter
And a jug of vindaloo.
There are no more things to listen
There is nothing left to leave
There is no more division
Between real and make believe
There is nothing we can witness
There is nothing left to tell
There's nothing in a shadow
No sound inside a bell.
So let them all come running
There is nothing in the cup
Except a little cunning
And refusal to give up.

No comments:

Post a Comment