UnPoetia:Green Jello from the Moon

Poetry for people who hate poetry

Oh the sky is purple-green and the birds fly up their noses
Dodging the green jello that's dripping from the moon
And the sun is small and yellow and it's smelling up the sky
Because the world is sweaty on this day-night of June
Where the hell is my banana? It's flying 'round the room
And the orange rolls up nightly, it's a stupid little guy
Oh my rainbow is a tricycle and rolls me 'round the world
And drops me on my nose 'cause I've fallen from so high
Oh your eyes they do freckle dear, why oh why oh why?
Come here and kiss my elbow before it runs to France
If the warts on frogs and mushrooms were using Oxy 5
Would the world be pink and rosy, if they only had a chance
The paisley and the argyle sing pretty little tunes
About the love of money and the ringlets from the carrots
But the time it writes it's name on tiny little cupcakes
It frosts them with some plaid and throws them to the ferrets
The chalk it rolls, it's smelly too, alas, my socks do cinder
But the bloo is in the toilet and it's winking it's eye still
At the pink strip-teasing trees that fly to the green jello
Still dripping from the moon and tasting light of dill
"Do you speak in tongues, dear, does your elbow run to France?
Hey, what's your sign, baby? Do you know Marquis de Sade?
Can you fly up to the moon that's dripping with green jello
And fish around inside it to feed yourself on cod?"
Oh, this is what the dogs say as they run from to and fro
And the moon and sun do wander from the north into the south
But the pigs sit on the checkers and free the knights and lads
And go to Chattanooga to put things in their mouths
The pencil and the pen went bowling in the sunset
Because the Appalachians became a bit too small
And the buildings in them wonder about the iron board
Why does it smell of turpentine, why doesn't it just fall?
Seconds tick and write their names on pizzas large and tiny
Because the frogs all sit on chessboards and wander to the wall
The keyboards only laugh confusedly and drop the black keys to T.V.
But cheese graters all stare blankly at the fireworks in the hall
Venetian blinds sing to Venetia, she's a tiny little god
And the world is a brick building with Venetia on a rafter
She cocks her head, she cocks here eye, she smells around a bit
Picks up a crystal bell and rings the room with laughter
And she digs up some nightly crawlers and she sticks them in her ear
As they wriggle and they giggle and they look up to the moon
Ah yet it drips green jello that smells a bit of dill
And it falls onto the tile and is ate by a raccoon
The paisley is declared unsafe by the piglets in the sky
Oh they fly up high so high as the stars go flitting by
They give a little sigh even though the tables die
He's a stupid little guy as he waves his hand goodbye
Oh the sky is purple-green and the birds fly up their noses
Dodging the green jello that's dripping from the moon