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As You Like It
Global, spinning quickly on its axis.
Looking out of control, firmly in it,
The spinning top glides to where the sax is;
Perhaps trying to find a lost minute.
Yet who can say but for the top, for sure?
No secrets it intends to give away:
Unlike he who came from Nantucket,
It refuses to yakkety-yak it.
It whirrs rounds and round,
With barely a sound,
And can be said to distinctly resemble
Inevitability. You could say,
It resembles evening after the day,
The whorling pattern of a lollipop
Might be enough to make one want to stop.
But, of course, the show must go on!
Or be cancelled by the Powers that Be;
'Twere the case, it would be cause for lament,
For this show is one all would die to see;
Don't let it implode like a rusty tent.
No, live for the moment, as they say always;
Bounce up on high, like an elastic band,
Searching forever for the newest craze
In all of the corners throughout this land.
Craze is the right word, for crazy it be,
Following patterns in the Martian sand,
Until it gets into both you and me.
Yet nevermind the wherefores, whys, hows or
Howevers. This is a poem for all weathers,
Bending little to consummate forces,
It is merely trying to entertain
You, and you, and you. Perhaps not you two,
But CERTAINLY you, through all of your courses.
It is that which is crafted, like chocolate,
Hopefully leaving all of it to taste.
To you, dear reader, I submit a breeze,
So interpret this, if you would so please.
