Blaming Music

it’s music bringing these good vibes on (certainly not peas humping raspberries, that'd be totally strange).

no, it’s music bringing these good vibes on,

what else explains

all these starfish blasting through the computer screen,

miniscule vaginas, clingy-clangy balls,

gossiping about him, her, them, we,

who’s dating who,

who keeps smoking the weed,

you know, gossipy stuff like that.

then the starfish sneeze (like ocean wave breeze),

sneeze droplets spewing

from whatever holes starfish sneeze from,

rising in the air like breakdancing pumpkins

in net stockings,

heads moving side to side,

doing electric shuffles and slides,

shaking nice orange shell asses.

after a minute,

the droplets burst and go wherever starfish sneeze droplets go (for all I know a spooky bungalow inside the Earth core).

ok, headache city, no more starfish,

what is this, naughty sea adventures hosted by Jack Handy?

and next, as if we needed more,

standing very small,

hailing from the great state of many flaws,

the one, the only, Master of the Crasher, Duster of the Dasher,

ladies and gentlemen,

give it up for, The Elastic Trombone! (maybe applause, maybe not, between ears my brain gone rot).

but on a more positive note,

for no reason whatsoever,

hairy feet are stomping through a forest of huts,

great white sharks are munching trays of tourists,

and other stupid things that are happening but not with us.

it’s music bringing these good vibes on,

midnight, creepy dark trees,

bunny rabbits hopping through triangular squares

coming out dripping in creamy bright bears,

and while here with the sweet bunnies,

how about the world being safer,

more Bob Marley chilled peace.

it’s music bringing these good vibes on

like the heart we clinching

riding through these storms,

spinning slow through cappuccino foam,

up and down the spine of our universal home,

searching for more,

a voice, a bang, a cute little door,

a beginning, an ending, an earth-shattering roar,

and as always,

this present moment depending

on a rocket boosting through flames of hell.

somewhere there must be another groove,

an innertube sliding down a hill,

the innertube,

you and me,

the hill,

snowy, dreamy, any flavor you choose.

peace.