"Easy Meetings, Cheap Responses, Chukungunya, & Bird-Flu Appetizers, and some other hoaxes & lies."
(Surrealistic Poetry in progress)

_Once upon a long ago, Bravos,
Or brave calves on gallows,
Dressed by the hangmen in black robes,
Some kings had told us to go
And kill the bad Barbarian Boobo.
Just for the Glory of National Captain "No-Words:Go".

_But soon after this empyramydal Oued-River Canyon without a
live fish left,
After this of ours Very nice and smart Quest,
When it was to watch at ourselves to see of us, what was
left of the rest
We found amongst ourselves too many deads
So many that we still aren't even able to sleep or rest.

_Since that time, we have been searching for the best,
But all we have found is this small planet of ours as our
nest.
And although some may say that nothing's going change our
world
We are still worshipping only dead-end ways & Death to
learn
While the writings still trying to tell us we're going to
burn
And dead and killed wise men's words remain to be just what
we fear,
Most of us would rather see our world off, in our fear
Than to admit our lives only were the famous disease
Called the Ancient Hypocondryagons' Scare

So that, at the Time of the lies,
We are just expecting that the only bed where we can lie on
On what we're all sitting, trying to rest or sleep,
Is the top of the icebergy-lies that we are telling to
ourselves.

_And Only because we never could fly,
From where we are, little men, temporarely but comfortably
settled,
With our Grandiose Spirituality totally completed,
We came to the conclusion that the only one that was ever
wrong
Was the bird.

_ That is, as they say, as far as we can see,
All of us proud that we are to see nothing,
No, not ths way, that one,
Turning to the Left, turning to the Night, blind we
remain,
What we always can sing's just bang-bang, Tom Doo-Him,
blank-bling,
Happy of our shelter-bunker, under our bungalo,
Let's go on singing and praying the Clown's Recurrent song
that we complain,
As wingless birds, hiding our heads in the cold snow.
Cos' that might make us someday win the bloody Lottery,
And cos' maybe we might be trusted
Blessing some Lord for "please more fast and warm Money!"
And of course when we're dead for it, we'll sure have all
Of some jesus or buddha Dudes's Do, oh no !

Glad to see you attempting poetry! Everyone starts somewhere :) You really ought to post your poetry into the writer's gallery. You're more likely to get comments and (hopefully) constructive criticism there :) David L. Writer's Coord.