Tropical Leaves

The Fool

Updated: Nov 24

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Twelve Toroidal Tesseracts

Flit through the Ethers

While the Wise avoid the fists of

Johnny "Star-Cleaver"

And the Silver Thread never does snap

it Twang-Twangs

To the turpentine touch of

the man from Mo'Wrang

As for Beelzebub's knot?

I wouldn't try it, no, not

Lest you wish to be flummoxed,

And puzzled, and rot

But encounter a man

with twelve eyes and four tongues

Beware! Beware!!

And please tally his thumbs

While great vastly much worse

is that "Wranglethorn's Curse"

It wrangles,

and tangles;

It's really the Worst!

There are those, however,

immune to its fetters

This immunity's managed

by feasting on Cheddar

Now the Cheddar's run dry

Just what are we to do?

Well, a man with a plan's just arrived

from La Roux

"Eat these lemon-plum-poppers.

I sell them, you see.

These Panacea Poppers

Will render you Free

If 'Free' they not render you

I'll take the hit

I'll get out of town;

Summarily dismissed!"

They say Fortune favors

The Fool, But oh please.

Most fools that I know

Were devoured by Beasts

There was one Fool though,

Claimed to not know a thing

But he'd dance and he'd laugh

and he'd hoot and he'd sing

And he'd Triple-Back Flip

and the Beasts they obeyed him

As he cartwheeled around

Seeding Jolly-Old Mayhem

But that Fool's long gone Now,

been replaced by a box

That's bulging with wires

and Buttons and Knobs

"Conundro's Cube" it's called

It confounds even the Brave

Just one look inside

And you're lost in a Maze

That's many

many many

many years in escaping

And even the stoutest will's

Soon driven crazy

Believe me, I know

I was lost in this Qube

And it's only looking back

That I know what to do

Rediscover the Phool

For he's really quite close

He says almost nothing

Whilst manning his post

In the coal mines

the wharf

the dumpster

the box

"I won't let no one through"

He says to the Boss

Just who is this Boss Man?

And Where is He? And Why?

I invite you to look,

But He's not in the sky

In your Heart's deepest pouch

the Big Boss Barks Orders

But most folk've forgotten

They think square is Lord

But it all comes around

Like a Boomerang, you see

For none can escape

Their accounting with He





. . . and His legions