The clock ticks,
And the pendulum swings.
The merry go round,
Just keeps spinning.
Well one day,
Crook the next.
In Papua New Guinea,
Crook ain’t that sweet.
Fever and sore bones,
Coughing fits,
Cold sweats and more.
Crook.
Yes – crook,
Sick as a dog.
Stinking thinking
And all that jazz.
Is it Malaria?
Or perhaps TB?
Might even be Typhoid?
Fever bloody fever!
Might just be a head cold!
Or just an off day.
Either way…
Crook is crook is crook!
I still write,
As write I must,
Write or wrong?
Throng, prong and song.
The head goes round and round,
Like a top,
Thoughts are like crumbs,
Toss me an egg please.
Circles,
Triangles,
Refractive gestures.
Please sit down and listen.
So there you go…
I’m crook.
Please have mercy,
Darkness abounds.
Crook or sick,
Who cares?
Crook is crook
And sick is sick.
Time to meditate I guess….
tingting bilong yu…
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