Archive
11/22/09 - (1)
Heave-Ho
How is it that when the sun comes out, After so many days freighted with sheer dismal, It can kick, big-bad-butt big-time, My down-in-the-dumps, bummed-out, not-with-it disposition, Give my humdrum, ho-hum doldrums the easy heave-ho, Fling, sling, wing my spirit into the radical stratosphere, Saying, "You and your ho-humdrum bah-humbugs are outta here, Outta hearing's earshot, outta seeing's nearsightedness, Outta mind's mindless mindfulness"? The only thing I can guess, and it's an edgy stretch, Is that the sun is one massively brash, gaseous, bad-ass good guy.
11/22/09 - (1)
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