Haven

by Happy Hiram

Whitney Singing with the choir

Poets reach what they aspire

clocks go back

no problems tack

there is no muck and mire.

Lenny Bruce comes for the ride

complains there's no underside

he can't mock

'cause peace ain't schlock

so it sucks being snide.

Orchids bloom, 'till the girls all swoon

hot chicks hang in every room

candles dancing

light romancing

love that tucks away the tomb.

Whiskey, water, wine and ale

"Drink up, boys! We soon set sail!"

Devastation

to limitations.

Just grab your ruck for the rails.

Fishing for the less venturous

no one's here to censure us

Grab a pipe,

I think I might!

 (It makes me look more lecherous!!)

Peace at home for young and spry

Coffee, tea and apple pie

spitting needs

like melon seeds

who needs what or where or why?

In the midst I see it calling

snowy cherry blossoms falling

at the end of miseries wailing

nothing ending, sick or failing;

coming out of life's tunnel

birthing from a pastry funnel

to a life like a wedding cake

no uncertainty or mistake

a chance to harbor our souls and heal;

a pity heaven isn't real.