BETTER THAN ‘AN ACID TRIP.’ ” a poem for: Thursday, October 10, 2019.
“Can [a] crazy [person] identify CRAZY?
(‘Cause) Won’t their perceptions be sorta hazy?”
That’s what I asked [Dear, Ol’] Grama Mazie,
One (sort of) Balmy October Night. (pause)
And sheReplied: “My dear, you think,
So much, you’re gonna sink,
‘Cause THOUGHTS ARE THINGS and pink,
Is only “red plus white.”
Her CRAZY response toMe,
Affirmed Just How Loon y,
I wasSure Grama to be,
AsOnHer[Homemade]Cookie, I crunched a bite. (pause)
I thought it was CHOCOLATE CHIP,
But then she “took a dip,”
And I realized (Heeeey. Pip, Pip),
That the chocolateDidn’tTaste[Quite]Right.
“Yeah, I put some ‘snuff’ rightInThere.”
“Oh, GRAMA.” I did stare,
“That recipe? You would dare,
To changeIt to a curse?” (pause)
“Crazy, you might call me,
But, when the weather’s BALM y,
I hope that you will call me,
By writing ‘US’ a verse.”
NOW, Grama’s decade’s gone,
But she’s (still) fertilizing The Lawn,
That I sometimes tread up on,
In CRAZY RE VEL R(a)Y. (pause)
AND IF you think you’re sane,
Just tread on Crazy Lane,
And watch “the acid rain,”
Wash all your cares away.