The Monk of Gardenia

This is my garden
and a monk am I.
No, it isn’t open
to every passerby!

I may welcome
Only the wise.
For it’s handsome
To certain eyes.

Gardenia!
I call it home!
Dementia
is what I’ve sown.

And as I sow,
So I do reap.
That’s all I know,
but roots go deep.

Yes, roots grow deep!

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Of Chickens Crossing Roads

Why DID the chicken cross the road?
Was it the only trip he could afford?
Was he in denial of universal laws,
Which forbid him to cross without cause?

What IF a black cat crosses your path?
If you were smart, you’d do the math.
The cat would for sure chase the chicken,
and you’d stop to watch them there and then!

You’d be so absorbed by this scene,
You’d forget you were on street thirteen.
Stepping back, you’d pass beneath a ladder,
and dropping a mirror would make you sadder.

Now you’d turn back to see the cat gone,
and the chicken would finally be free to move on!