The Sanity Planity

Laugh the awful off

give a good teehee

or a bwahaha–

all the flaws,

brush them off

like cinder

sloughing from

the good ol’ apple tree–

I know a kitchen where flea-fitted fox fleets fix

fruits and pans all spick and span,

I know a plan

that the Cyan Clan demands

to save their slither river,

their queso bagel;

the plan asks for

one part

Dr. Seuss boots,

one half

Susie’s blue caboose,

a tickle and a tackle

and a scrambled egg hag–

Mind the kitchen cleaners

and the laughter

keeping the bitty beddy bug bites well at bay,

and read this story on your way:

Ladybug Baby was bouncin’ on the bed,

bumbled off and bonked their head

Baba blamed the bedspread

but Baby said,

Imma keep boppin’ on the bed–

The plan demands your sanity

but hands out immortality;

on fleeter feet and whole heels

just give up

your children’s stories

just give up

your nursery’s rhymes,

just offer to the last scrambled hag

you met

with fluffer in her brains

a portrait of Saint Magpie

inside a crystal bagpipe,

just ask her why she’s wiser than you are

with your eye pools full of noodles

and carry the answer home to your heart;

just ask the Cyan Clan

why no one knows who they are

and dance the opposite of that,

and do it while reading the sequel:

the tortilla beneath Baby’s feet

is heaving with the heat,

and hamburgers are helping the pie.

Baba feeds fish on frozen fog

poured by plastic pink packs,

hoping the foxes will one day fly.

Just keep the sea

inside the hollow of your ripped knee,

safe from the moon,

then follow the answers and pictures they tell

into boots

on a blue caboose

and save the eggs from Ladybug Breakfast

for the immortal hag

who can turn your mind into floofer oodles

so that you can live forever

and ever

as king of the giggles,

queen of the wiggles,

spinning dizzy,

“Hereby you Shall be Renowned

as Mixlecacklecrown,

hahaha,

teeheehee,

three cheers and an ear squeal

for the awful floffles

coming all tumbling down!”