how does your fibula smell today,
Harvey my boy, Harvey my boy?
I can’t really tell, William, my friend,
it’s jammed up against this hole in my head.
See?
Oye, I'd say oye, but my lower jaw
is a shattered wreak, a shattered wreak.
I do have my invisible arm around you
around you, Harv, my closest chum…
it’s buried in the dirt…
See?
I think so... yes, Will, you're ever here,
here in death, as you were in life-
the rocks strewn about must be your hands
supporting me, supporting me,
though, as usual, you can’t do a thing
about my problems or the holes in my head…
Listen, Harv, though my brain may adorn
a laboratory jar in Frankenstein’s lab
there’s no other skull I’d have here with me-
your warmth is as real
as an australian pea…
Well, Will, situated as we are,
the light does gleam off from our orbs
our heads, once sporting muscle, skin,
hair, eyes, lips, teeth that grinned;
now we’re stripped of all that jazz,
yea, even our teeth that used to grin-
but hey, we taste earth like no one can-
taste this earth that most call dirt;
no one knows it like we know it-
like two skulls stuck in the sand…
Harv, old boy, and I mean old,
how long have you had that bone in your nose?
Eons, Harv, there hasn’t been
a sole this way in a millennium;
and if there was, I’m sure we’d be
kicked about by a soccer team,
perhaps in sport to knock down pins,
or maybe as props in a tragic play
about someone who doesn’t know
if he wants to live today…
Well, Will, he can be like me-
my head half buried in the sand,
no eyes to see this troubled world
that we left, that we’re still in…
I’ll tell you, Will, we’re a lucky two,
we’re naught but bones, me and you-
but our thoughts run on and on,
on and on, on and on…
Yes, Harv, and you can smell that bone,
smell that bone jammed in your nose…
Go ahead, Will, tickle me,
for I do not believe in tragedies-
even we, two idle skulls
can have some fun with ourselves
in spite of how we came to be
two skulls stuck in a grainy sea
with rocks around, a bone for me,
and your bone that's just out of reach
and underneath
mine…
Ha! Trying to draw out some jealousy
from an old skull, my boned buddy?
Well, see that crown behind my head?
Let me strain my eyes to see…
That crown belongs, belongs to me!
for it is on my side, you see…
Yea, but nay, for measure it-
your head’s too small for it to fit-
it looks like it belongs to… me!
A haberdasher would agree-
about the size, the size fits me…
Let me sit and ponder it…
Go ahead, I'll smell my bone,
and leave the crown and dirt to thee.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
Yes I did have a line limit though as I have been reading the many entries I may very well do away with the limit as there are several that have exceeded the limit yet the piece are just too damn good to not acknowledge
Your humor gets me everytime
I always look forward to reading your work as I know it is often good for a laugh which is good for the spirit as well. Thank you for entering and good luck!
