Mr. Smith by G. David Schwartz and Jennifer Wiehe

Mr. Smith
The sweetest of men
Yes, surely indeed
He would never hurt
A fly nor a flea
Jovial in spirit and
so carefree and kind
He smiled and smiles
All of the time
Mr. Smith
so intelligent and smart
he has good hair
and he dresses so sharp
a lover on animals
As well as little children
Everyone always want to be with him
so carefree and kind
And miles of smiles
I’m glad he is a friend of mine

Train to nowhere

Pumpernickel has a sweet bite.
Shouting at songbirds in the pagan sky.
Water lilies are an odd pond scum.
On a dark night I can see forever.
Hurry, I’ll be late for the train
that is going to nowhere.

Voodoo by Mike Berger

I’m fascinated with voodoo though
I’m not into zombies and the walking
dead. Living gargoyles in such leave
me totally cold.

I often wonder what part of the human
psyche conjure up werewolves and
vampires. They seem to arise from
dark corners where fantasy thrives

I have a fascination in a special branch
of voodoo. It’s called modern science.
It has a cult claims to have discovered
truth.

They delude themselves into believing
their findings are real. They have
“proved” that charmed quarks really exist.
When in reality they haven’t the foggiest
idea of what’s going on at the subatomic
level. They find what they’re looking for.

What is it called if your findings depend
on how you beat on your drums. I call
it sterilized voodoo.

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