Jabber Walky

Jabber Walky

Jibberish, jabberish,

walk, walk, walk.

Jibber, jabber,

step, step, step.

On a jabber walky

one must utter only

nonsense, only things

that nobody else

would understand,

scraps of imagination

thrown into a silk hat

and tossed together

until you end up with

buttons burping

gasoline and smelling

like peaches while

star-shaped robots laugh

about alien vegetable

romances, and so on,

and so on. One foot

in front of the other,

one thought tumbling

from one place to

another, transformed

by lightning-quick

strokes of madness

only accessed through

daily walking and total

fascination with the

world above, below,

around, and inside you.

One Response »

  1. I am having a Jabber Walky day…this poem takes the pathologic feel and transforms it into bliss-bless magic! Thanks…and spanks and really good word pranks…to you…oh poet divine!

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