I'm currently working on this poem, let me know if there is anything I should fix: There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.
I wasn't feeling the meter of that nigga one. I read it aloud. And I didn't know Shel Silverstein had dreads
Honestly Nothing.. Delta shooting through misty sky On a clear blue night Captain Bob sipping piping hot coffee Says to co-pilot Randy The sun is coming up over the horizon For the very last time The Earth got caught in a Weird groove and Barreled away Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling Skeleton Bob and his skeleton crew Skeletal passengers smiling and reading Sky Magazine Caught by gravity forever Orbiting this cool rock
Maybe it is you people who are loosing your touch and getting more dull and less entertaining to make fun of.