Beating up an onion
on my way to mars
we saw a drunken lemon towel
playing drums with the stars
The drumsticks were pure silver
made from the ears of dogs
the sheep they lost were still mewing
cleaning the feet of logs
The wood gave off a green shelf
which they smashed in one with a spoon
and from the ashes of air
they sank a purple moon
From the moon they made a barrel
mixed with half a cherry of beer
and if the old cat listens closely
then he can still hear the cows cheer
The cattle were chocolate assasins
which melted in the light of the dark
and all their tails were melon beaters
made specially by a gold shark
The shark was chosen by the radio goats
to lead an army of rakes
in to battle with a football bully
and his glass nosed snake
The snake ran away from the fight
between the mouse and the bell
I think that means it’s over
for the carrot in its shell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Profanisaurus, I like this more than one or two other ‘silly’ poems you’ve written/I’ve read. my favorite stanza: “The shark was chosen by the radio goats to lead an army of rakes in to battle with a football bully and his glass nosed snake” ………………………………. I believe there IS a snake named “glass snake”. poor onion! nice rhyming and a very nice sound/flow. have a craze as day! bri :)