this walkingstick dragon
sings anthems of phantoms
dragging arrow-riddled cowboys
behind covered wagons
diving fourteen fathoms deep
into the ocean of disaster
emerging with a trunk
full of the bones of your master
and while you try to follow jungle trails
to reach my mountain peak
I've been banging rocks for hours
playing breakbeats on repeat
meet me halfway
and I'll bring a gift of wilted flowers
otherwise stay the fuck home
hide beneath your bed and cower
I'm the messenger of mystery
dream-seekers be double-fisting me
bringing fire to famished bellies
like offerings under the wishing tree
two Colt 45s
silver bullets
AND an olive branch
will that be enough to kill my inhibitions
and get my fallen angel to dance?
I rolled snake eyes after double fours
moved from free parking to chance
one more double to jail
but I've got a "get out of jail free"
pass in my pants
they say love it or leave it
I just want to overstand
love it THEN leave it
and come back once again
I've got a head full of pop tunes
and two shoes filled with sand
a wallet stuffed with dumb luck
and a bumble bee in the hand
I've got beauty in the eye
and an ace up my sleeve
two iron lungs
and a heart you couldn't conceive
she's got a hell of a last name
and ribbons in her hair
strong wings on her back
and an icy-hot stare
I'm not asking for no favors
no flowers and red ballons
or a mouth full of lifesavers
to sweeten the blade of this harpoon
it's too soon to say for certain
my missing wisdom tooth's still hurtin'
but I'm not breaking out the novacaine
'til my shooting star collapses the curtain
I weave thought tapestries
without threading a stitch
I'll sell half a catamaran for eighty grand
with a three strike sales pitch
and while you've got a mop and a bucket
trying to salvage the Titanic
I'll be floating on some fifty gallon drums
east across the Atlantic
this is for the pride that drowns
beneath the laughter
of those that'll never understand
and for the courage that remains
to reach out with loving hands
I'd love you all if I could
touch your hearts down to the core
stretch your arms 'round your bodies
like Reed Richards from Fantastic Four
but there's more to life
than ill rhymes and making love
be a raindrop falling up
from half-full cups
return to the clouds above
it's like
pegleg escapades
to forgotten cosmic shores
hollow point graffiti
riddled 'round your bedroom door
just to jolt awake at night
wondering who was jiggling the knob
I'm the mutant cross
between your worst nightmare
and the latest teen heart throb