two over

[byronius]

universe smiles and waves
i leap up in the sunshine over the beds
clean blue sky and fresh air
over the trench i go the dugouts are deep
and cool with fragrant mother
happy horses trot along snort at me
i have to hug them excuse me
beautiful wooden wheels on the steel
look at that shine!
twirl up and take a sky spin with Wilfred
he takes a line: so many of me still live
but i’m off! for tea and scones with Hinden the Burglar
woah the Keezer! actual and not sad
having done his best to read the words
hey i’m carting with kemal and an armeniac
too fast! too fast! so they slow and old Allenby
drunk asleep across T of E
weird but sweet, the edges neat and tucked in hospital corners
flip to ypres and here is where
shicklgruber got hit with the light
spent the rest of his life
working with jewish cats
oh could they swing! oh could they wail!
they say rock and roll cures everything
but i know it’s the hard bop
so we take it to the top and spy
doug’s small beady penguin-eyes
and i stop
flutter down
and whisper words of wisdom to his pressure vessel:
not you not you
this was never you
now dance!
and he does.

[Ozymanithrax]

1. This poem possesses an interesting sense of exuberance...

in spite of the E. E. Cummingsesque all lower case (except for names, where capitals catch the eye like Hinden, Allenby, or T of E, though it makes me wonder why shicklgruber and others missed out).

So much of it is not understandable, like the paintings of an American artist whose name escapes that painted by dropping pain on a canvas from ladder.

The image included, made me think the chaotic different lengths of the lines is an illustration of the field above in poetry.

Actually, quite good.