Ink is light.
Heaven's turf is mortal gate,
Lairy lion; more is fate.
What is meaning? What is fate?
An idle path. An idle gate.
A winding lane. A raven rook.
Look at all he has forsook.
A wren shall wrest the iron wrought.
A ring, a sapphire, that I've sought.
A poem, ditty, idle muse.
A heaven sent idle ruse.
Is this meaning? Is this stark?
A ball around our local park.
If this is shadow, art, and care;
If this is purpose; crows can scare.
Is this true level plain in sight?
If this art can stand and fight.
This is freedom. That is plain.
Codicil to trenchant same.
Cryptic verse, tomorrow care,
Idle muse and idle ware.
Pots, and shifts, to witty ones.
Switches, besom, noble Huns.
Plains of virtue, idle care,
Care of all to idle scares.
Creeping wizards, mice and men,
Fen and mountain, dale and glen.
Pens, and pots, and pans galore.
Shallow leaven, wanting more.
Breeze to ease my laden back,
Felt to get into the sack.
Flack of guns, and warring ones,
Of the mountain, peace begun.
CND, yet wanting more,
Bombs, and nukes, and by the score.
Fourscore wizard scour the pot,
Topping all to beat the lot.
Henna, umber, citrus box.
Like a pussy. Like a fox.