You can map the earth onto book,
they’ll keep on trying to geoflatten your nook.
that tricks got legs as in a reprint,
until they find that its the circle thats bent.
Top of the circle,
nobody wants.
Only ways down,
filled with sickly shonks.
So do you close your eyes,
hold your breath?
jump off sideways,
or start selling tents?
I’d close my ears and avoid the screams,
close my eyes and dreams of krispy creams.
Work out parody, satire and fun,
to better understand the situation we brung.
Tonally tuning the tumultuous tongue,
humming and strumming till symmetry begun.
Placing the tree of life up high,
so that the letters fall where they cannot hide.
It’s quite ozymoronic,
A quandry of sorts,
how did we get here?
The fault of failed rorts?
Is it slight of hand,
or misformed malice?
Does ignorance rule,
or is it a lack of ballast.
When irony’s the word,
that gets bantered around.
Such a cop-out shows,
understandings in drought.
Let me spell it out in two,
since future releases might be curved to a few.
Obfication is nothing new,
oculto in spanish started a cue.
Hidden meanings,
with twisted plights,
curves and straights,
sharing delights.
Horisonals and verticals on the same plot,
afixed to eachother sharing the lot.
Talls and shorts telling the man,
too hot too cold, adjust where you can.
Double it half it send it now,
lighter darker bend it somehow.
bigger smaller find the spot,
opposites attract – or maybe not.