OCD Poetry

I have no idea what this is but my mind has been running through it for days.  Its not done but I need a break.  Feel free to fill in blanks.  I just cant stand the OCD thought ramble anymore.

I will slay the Jabberwocky today!

And if I have to, I will give her away,

Six impossible things before breakfast

Oh it is my favorite meal!

How do you become a queen of broken things!

How do you keep the whole world from falling apart!

Hush little baby don’t say a word

Mamas gonna buy you a mocking bird

And if that mocking bird don’t sing

Mamas gonna buy you a golden ring

And if that golden ring turns brass

Mamas gonna buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass should break

Mamas gonna make you a golden rake

And if that golden rake looks fake

Well mamas gonna tell just what it takes.

To be a queen of broken things.

Oh but my favorites come in threes

But Alice only has the two

But she slays the Jabberwocky

In the end

When I was a farmer

I would wield a golden rake

I would fill the world with joy

In the good food I would make

I was a good worker

a dancer through the field

A singer in my heart

wrote stories for my children

And the world praised my art

Once I was a farmer

But when I broke my back

My world was split in two

Now I sit and mourn

“Oh what am I to do?”

But the world we have

Is the world we create,

And nothing can be done

with a broken golden rake.

So I will take something old and I will make something new.

Then my world will no longer be askew

...

If I was a golden rake what a monster I would be

I could cut off two prongs

make a pitchfork

take the other end and

....

As a golden rake a monster I am

But there are good things I could do

I must look at the world as if I hold glue

And start asking, “what am I to do?”

....

I have two hands and one mouth

no longer can I dance with ease

so I look back to the start

In youth I was a lark.

I could sing on my own but I preferred a choir

No NO you dont want me.

You want to be a lark singing through the trees

Yes yes It is true but there is so much more to do

rare is a bird that can be one thing

there are many songs that we all must sing

Of hard work and sacrifice I am up to the task

But in academia I had always placed last.

NO, Im not stupid

If I must ask

But my hands are the smart ones

They are a master of disguise

I have two switches one in my heart, one in my mind,

switch one on to make my intellect show

And to my hands it goes

They are cleaver enough to complete most tasks.

If turned on one at a time

there is a chance I may shine

but the truth of the matter I need both to go

if run on half power all say Im slow

The fighter wields a double edged sword dipped in ink

he sheaths it in his hat as he thinks

to some he’s a loon but I call him a Lovecraft

he slays demons with words whenever he is asked.

(writers are love crafts writing is their craft)

If I where a witch my wand would be burnt at the tip

I would cast spells in red, yellow, blues

and draw a sunset over you

to some I seem scary

but not for long

because I would be one that could do no harm.

(artist)

But I have two hands

a left and a right

with one I work and the other I fight

I could carry a staff and a sword

and be a healer for the heart

I am the one everyone loves and hates

because If you have a secret

I will open the flood gate.

(cartoonist)

But I know not what to do because I have one mouth too.

As a singer Im a siren and I throw a net on you

I call you from the sea

To find the lighthouse behind me

But not to rocks or your doom

But so you don’t leave this world too soon

Music is my drum and I call you to the shore

But the sea is vast and your ship has but one mast

If you pass by me you could be lost out at sea.

No my kind can rarely stand alone.

Turn me to sound I sing in a choir.

Oh but to some we are but birds on a wire.

Oh but who can I call on?  Who is up to the task?

To call a sailor to turn his mast?

If I was a musician I could wield three.

Oh what a horrible monster I would be.

In the land of magic I would be a bard

But I am of the earth and bang on drums.

For the winds of war to come.

But I wont strike them in anger and to feed my hunger

but to call you back to me

so we may dance on the shore once more.

....

Oh but Im the one that knew all along,

 While you all thought and turned it to song.

You don’t like my jokes so you cast me out,

yes some walk slow and some walk quick,

but we are the ones that sorrow and anger stick.

I could have prevented everything,

But you cant stand the way I sing.

I don’t need a drum

I don’t need a string

I don’t need a single thing

In my hand I may hold a sword

But I am a sniper that stands in the front

truth is

I can not hide

And comedy is my guise

(comedian)

....

We are chimeras codebreakers, codemakers, fighters, healers one and all

 wielding magic of the heart

Most will see monsters at the start.  (sea monsters)

No matter what you do.

We are here.

For You.

...

If we choose war.

....

I choose peace but if Im borne in war

I am a fighter through and through

You have no idea what I would do

I do

....

Fighters need a healer but in peace the healer doesn’t need the fighter.

Healers are lazy in peace

which is why they need the soldiers to create a pace

A healers work is never done

because most have hearts that would run

Soldier boy hold my hand and help me along

....

we all have a gift

we can bear arms to harm

or plant seeds to heal

we all create worlds

we all cast spells

we all create with love

bear love

My love

....

If we choose peace

Defusing explosives is our art.

We are demolition diffusers

fighters and healers always come in pairs

and there is never only one.

Dont give up on me,

I wont give up on you,

And in the end.

...

We will make the world a better place.

The choice is yours.

The End