The Flight
By Voodooman60
Lightness and speed,
the air flying by,
moving backwards and forwards,
to touch the sky.

Back, Forth
Back, Forth

A vine through the jungle
like Tarzan I speed,
passing monkeys and jaguars
and trees that I heed.

Back, Forth
Back, Forth

A stagecoach and horses,
that I can control,
running them faster
with the money I've stole.

Back, Forth
Back, Forth

A pirate starting a raid
on a ship.
To a boat full of people
whose throats I can slit.

Back, Forth
Back, Forth

And finally an astronaut
leaping laps round the moon.
School will be over,
and I'll be home soon.

As I Stand On My Doorstep
By Voodooman60

Soft, fluffy snowflakes fall slowly.
Serenading the frosty sunrise.

No finches or swallows fly swiftly by,
or sing songs serene or of sorrow.

As I step slowly, faithfully into
the now spinning abyss.

The chaos of the snow
the bitterness on the skin
that wraps the world
in a blanket of suds cleansing the world of sound.

The thunder of the wind is a monster.
But those that know the storm
see a dove.

The Ode to Malapropism
By Voodoman60

This small spit of exceptional-ism,
is my tribune to malapropism.

When you slay the wrong word,
that isn't flight.
Not the son you meant,
just not height right.

When your swerve-age slips,
or objections stutter.
You must sleep your head,
and lever sputter.

The laughter that morrows,
is levitation enough,
to keep shrew from stopping,
and caking up stuff.

For the person who dust it,
It's really a stoke.
'cause they're all unglued,
and mentally bloke

I know I used my word,
and I enjoyed every corpus,
Oh yes that's right,
I did it all on porpoise.