A TRIP TO GOD-KNOWS-WHERE
The path is dusty, the hills are misty,
The trees stand tall, the sun looks like a fiery ball,
I am bound for my destination, I am drenched with perspiration.
The bike is fast, the thrill does not last,
Buses and trucks crowd the road, the driveway is not broad,
People laugh and joke, they stare at the tall bloke.
I sense something is wrong, so we stand out in the throng,
My hair is flowing, the oddity is showing,
My eyes do water, the tears dry up later.
The journey comes to an end, the road is in its final bend,
Food and drinks dominate the scene, the shops spill the beans,
I suddenly feel hungry, I laugh out loud in mockery.
This is a stupid poem, a disaster in the making,
I can make no sense of what’s written, looks like the poet is already beaten,
I laugh at the hilarious irony, because the stupid poet is me!!!!
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