The Great Intellecticle

I don’t have a thinking cap

So how am I supposed to think?

I make a cap from bubble wrap,

And with indelible black ink,

I draw some whiskers on my chin,

Put on Dad’s reading spectacles.

Then stroke my beard, and I turn in

To this great intellecticle.

Dreams

I’ve never been to Alabama,

I’ve never been to Kathmandu,

I’ve never met the Dalai Lama,

Nor Spiderman, nor Fu Manchu.

I’ve never seen the Northern Lights,

Nor climbed an ancient redwood tree.

I haven’t seen so many sights

That people say you have to see.

But I have dreamed of all these things,

From underneath the sheets and covers.

I’ve even heard the mermaids sing

To luckless, star-crossed sailor lovers.

And I can still see all those places,

The views from up the redwood tree.

I still remember all those faces,

It’s just - they don’t remember me.

Lost Tribe

 An ancient tribe the proud Chimu

Live in the forests of Peru.

They hunt for alligator shoes,

On sleeping bears they take a snooze.

They stroke piranhas with their hand,

And flip them out onto the land.

They ride bareback on jaguars,

And plot their journeys by the stars.

They sail on rafts across the lake,

Towed by an anaconda snake.

They prospect in the streams for gold,

To make new teeth when they get old.

And when they have a little party,

The shindig’s fun, the laughs are hearty.

They drink a wine that’s made from berries,

And fly all week just like canaries.

They’ve lived like this a thousand years,

‘Cos no one speaks, and no one hears

Of them at all - well only me:

I know - I made them up you see.