Lonely Cloud
by Laurence Trundle Lawrence 

I wandered lonely as a cloud,
it was Halloween and I had about
sixty pounds of cotton
glued to my leotards.
And nobody wanted to trick or treat
with a kid
who was dressed up like a that.

Needless to say, being seven sucked bad.

The stars shone down
like Christmas lights
all flashing in crazy sequences
that made me nauseous
and I got sick on the tree stand.

That was on Christmas,
but the stars made me sick like that too.

If there’d been a tree stand there
I can’t say I wouldn’t have sicked on it
but that would have been pretty weird to see
on Halloween
unless it was holding up a pumpkin tree or something.

So to recap, I was a lonely
seven-year-old cloud
and I almost barfed.

But then I saw
a shitload of flowers
like at least seven
possibly more.

And I thought of how
if I ate all those flowers
maybe I could fly.

Hey, I was seven.

But then this guy in a wife-beater
popped out his door and started yelling
about how he was going to punt my little ass
across the street
if I didn’t stop eating all his flowers.

So I hauled ass fastly as a cloud
that doesn’t want to get its ass kicked
by a bigger cloud
and ran all the way to my cloud house.

But even now,
when huger pangs
sometimes I think of having a flower burrito or something.
When the florist has his back turned
Quick!

Hey screw you, man
I never liked
your flower shop
anyway.

The Raccoon Killer
On golden gilded lapis lazuli the gnome was homely, old and plain. Byzantine tattoos on his brain made him think the world insane.

Chase the Weasel
All around the Crunchberry bowl, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it was fuckin’ funny, Until “POP!” goes the weasel! The fucking weasel exploded, I’m not kidding. It was fuckin’ raunchy.

Deuce
Lucky Lucy slapped a goose, slapped so hard his beak was loose. But Bruce and Luce they called truce, and drank a can of blue moose juice. The goose he drank it through a sluice.

Radiation Plantation
“Radiation Plantation,” I spoke the information. “Scott?” Scott blew snot on a pink carnation. “Ready the gammaram, and prepare for floatation.” “Aye aye, captian,” he replied as he spied a crustacean.

The Insomnia of Ransom Ripple
Ransom Ripple’s twisted nipples kept him from his sleep. The night was long, as Ransom’s thong straight up his ass would creep.