ramblings 2

whoever could ramble while keeping a rhyme?
i know of nobody who could find the time
or effort; whatever, why would one attempt
to write a rhymed rambling? i view with contempt
such shallow-souled people whose thoughts are so walled,
they could not foresee what they could not behold,
who think that all ramblings can’t possibly rhyme,
for why is it rambling if you spend the time
to match the last syllables and rhythm the lines?
i tell them all — watch me! i ramble the rhymes!
well what can you say if there is no content
that your mind can follow except to preempt
the rhythm and rhyme of the words that you write?
i guess that’s the beauty of riding the light,
you don’t really know where it takes you, or why;
you just know the colors, the music, the sigh
when fin’lly you reach the borealis of lore,
the travel is worth it, the tellings of yore!
the rainbow will bend and the pot of gold waits,
but who can ride lightbeams to reach the pearl gates?
the rivers will sing its wet music and laugh,
but who can beat oceans in swallows of quaff?
the fireflies will shine like the will-o-wisp tales,
to blanket the darkness in twinklings and gales
of landlubber stars that just hip-hippity-hop,
enchanting the dreamy, the poet, the sot;
the moth will yet follow the hypnotic dance
of yellow flames beckoning it in a trance,
in one fatal kiss, such a femme-fatale bliss!
to die in embrace of your sought-for, thatis,
can you just extend the imagining thought,
of armored knight riding in quest for his troth,
and only to end in one final embrace,
the dragonflame scorching him, leaving no trace,
not even a memory, except for the dust,
ah, that is the prize of such too-mothly-lust!
the hare and the tortoise shall ride forth again,
shall the now-wiser rabbit lose this race? forefend!
if history teaches you nothing, my friends,
then natural selection makes sure your line ends!
the boy who cried wolf never herded more sheep,
in fact he was sold as a slave, his price cheap!
and how do i know this, you ask? i do not!
but when did you ask about what is forgot?
you look at the fairy tales, listen with smile,
but never imagine the afterward; why?
for what is the after of happily-ever?
they never do mention if it was forever!
was it after-wedding? or after a year?
or after the children came? after the tear?
how long is the happily-ever of tales?
after divorce? after death of the males?
after the death of the king and the queen?
you NEVER did ask just how long were they seen
smiling together in lovestruck delight,
perhaps it all ended right after the first fight!
for alice in wonderland had to awake
to bring herself back from the land of her make;
dreams are just dreams, one must find out himself,
to shake off illusion and find that real wealth
is gained by the toiler, the intrepid ant,
and not by the grasshopper dreaming of want,
and just as this knowledge is finally gained,
so all dreams must end, though in wounds of the pained;
the sun rises once again, morning eats night,
we wake up, we toil, we gird up for the fight,
we stay off from rambling so as to keep sane,
save when fancy takes us there someday again;
this rambling ends also, with one word to you –
it’s not bad to dream, if you know when “to do!”

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