Headless Poet

Me head, me head, I have lost it
Eye nose it, must be somewhere
But where, oh where, did it roll off too
Here, there, been searching long,
Far every where for me - Headless Poet.

Me lost all me common cent senses
Me heart now leads me brainless
Eyeless be running around a Knight
Upon a Headless Poet Night Mare.
Me feet size telling me -
Where thy ground grumble crumbles
In size 14 and a ¼ - paired.
They called me and me head
The Bigfoot Stampede Pounding Poet.

Me head, me head, I have lost it
The one upon dye neck’s shoulders
Me head, flew off, on the frost fork
Most traveled down by esteem poets
Who follow each others - synced steps.

Me and my nag, got forked up
Taking the one less traversed
By those who have no degree bearings
Amid navigating verse without form.
After all, what is Poet, without aHead.

Me head lays heartless somewhere
Amid pebbles that keep shifting around
It takes everything for it to get up-righted
Only to roll down the hill - backward
Me missing ears try to navigate the winds
Whilst me lost eyes, spin around - so dizzy.

Neigh, said dye Night Mare vibe - try here
Got off, holding a rope, tight attached
Ran right into grave stone marble
Swear, I felt the Night Mare snicker
But me, be headless, to know for sure
Nothing like a smart a lackey Night Mare

Kept wondering, what to do
As me kept running into trees
While they keep barking back
Watch what you are doing
Me nag keeps snickering
But my Night Mare keeps
Watch over me skeleton key
To reattach to me missing head.
So nothing serious happens
Except me poet pride suffers so.

Did come across a patch of farmland
Pondered if there was a scarecrow head
Stumbled and fell, rope attached
Felt around me hands met ball of sorts
A pumpkin it be, ready to be harvested
It was then I remembered about a story
About a Headless Horseman
Me body in hands
Took my worn Swiss knife out
From poet baggy torn trousers
And pocket, pocked me out two eyes

Well I least I can see now
Put a round hole for a nose
To attach something later
And carved out a smile
In me bodies new mouth
Now me be riddled with words

Me body, Me body, be missing
Me body, what happened, to me body
Been bounced around, so mulch
Me hairs, been scorned away, amid winds
Me bald head, shines amid headaches
As me migraine, rolls upon soccer shots
Them hoofs, be knocking me brains – silly.

aHead met poet, along the troubadour trail
Where Bards, with uppity noses, go skyward
To wander persnickety, as very impotent poets.
There was one poet, who had to look - down ward,
As a Graduate Prissy Poet of Royalty, be passing bye.
Me head asked him for some help
He seen me, body less, and
Seeing and hearing me head talking
He turned, so white, he matched his horse.
Some say they can see him at times
On the trail of woe, following, full moon beams
But that is another - whitewash story to teller.

Me head, now thinketh, poets are but scaredy-cats
For seeing and hearing a headless head aHead
They shriek-scream, unintelligible Free Verse streams
One poet repented to never be Romeo again
While another quoted Shakespeare - breathless
“Off with his head,” this cannot be, has To Be
“A Midsummer Night's Dream” - flash bard beGone.
They left faster, than they came, Never To Be this sane.

Running out of options, Me head, away from - me body
Needed away to get around, beside being this soccer head
Me head then met a mystic tortoise wonder wanderer
Strange but he could sense me, WHOLE, be apart – problem.
“Climb aboard mate, I been around the world a few times.
I will take you to an exoskeletal specialist to get you a body.
An army of strange critters then ascended to the rescue
Ever seen aHead moving and crawling along with weird things
Up the tail, this mass manipulated, me head, upon a shell
Me head said, “And how am I supposed to stay up here”
Just then, an thunder brought the Tarantulas and spiders
If me had feet me would be flying quoting Shakespeare
“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” – BodyLess
Ever looked into Tarantulas many eyes – unnerving
Tortoise said, “Be still Pilgrim,” John Wayne fan it was.
Soon me head be spun around tethered secure lines
“We are ready for the journey,” said the Tortoise
“Well it be at a snail’s pace of months” said me webbed head.
“Why so much webbing, me head feels like in a cocoon.”

“Hold on,” said the Tortoise.
Me head thinkest, “Pray tell HOW?
Furthermore, how fast can one tortoise go?”
Just then the shell started shaking like crazy
Then Tortoise feet lifting off the ground
Then moving slow to fast to superfast forward.
Ever seen a Tortoise with jet assist boosters
Me eyeballs started to have wind burn in them
Closed them as things spun by rickety split fast
Me head confounded, and confused be riddled
Thirty minutes, seeming hours, things slowed down
Tortoise being lowered to awaiting landing feet.
“Quiet Zone Ahead” said he as he still walked.
Ahead, aHead seen sterile exoskeletal buildings
Ever get stuck going somewhere in a hurry
Then get behind someone in a Tortoise low gear?
Finally there, he had to use the human door.
Then those in the lab seen aHead upon a Tortoise.

Meanwhile, me body fitted, a fluted nose, in me hole
It kept playing, and repeating this Amazing Grace tune
Me body did not want that extreme Pinocchio carrot
Me nose, now be, a sweet pickle of sorts - with nostrils
The dill one was to tart, and me had to fart, all the time
Me will look around, for a poetic-k-nose it all one, later.
Me hair, be a Whig politician, do not naught judge me, Right
Just call me the Pumpkin Bigfoot Stampede Pounding Poet.

Me body, with me squash head, be primp-pimping strutting
Me looking fantastic, considering me real poetic head,
Be lost somewhere. Down yonder trail ways, be woe, be me
But me body, adopted an orange head, with a White Whig
Seeing White Judge Whig, prissy poets, always look down
As me and me nag, can prance, right by them, unnoticed
Not scaring them enough, to turn off color, more than they are
After all, some recite verse in English, sounding off keyed Latin
Me body, me nag, me pumpkin, now going down a fork up trail
What is this, shining beside the road, says it be an Iphone 7
Me pockets bulging with acquired nicks, and knack gibberish
Me will put it in, me new orange mouth for future inspection
Earth to Major Tom, me now have GPS navigation messaging
Me orange head be spinning with crazy, insane wild thoughts
Me have to get it out, before me go nuts upon Night Mare nag
But me orange, now has computer with a female Siri dialect
This voice will not do, me body male, me pumpkin female
Me got lucky and asked Siri, how to change a pumpkin gender.

Meanwhile me head befuddled with all the electro-mechanics
As me head, was welcome aboard, of sorts, after me web cutting
Me head be carted around this special sterile headboard supporter
As people stated, this was the famous “Headless Poet” shocker ball
Seams some rattled poets, heard my poetic screams, “Watch them hoofs.”
They dared not look down, at an inferior, head poet, under foot
But my, oh my, how they did write headless verse, amid ripe rhyme
Seams thy head, had spearheaded, a new reattachment to poetry
That me head, be a headliner, to guillotine, chopped up free verse
Lab techs, put on, me head, headphones of me, Headless Poet colleagues
Me head be a fluke, fluted magical spell, a divine recant reincarnation
Me head has never been, so many weird things, at once upon a rhyme
That I must have graduated from Cambridge in English head-ography
As me head swelled, they took decisive precise micro measurements
Then techs left me indulge in notoriety for bringing Poetry back to life.

Me body, squash in head, be apple updated gourd, seeded amidst thoughts
Been hearing, about a body-less poet, crystal ball of imagination, sort off
Super man head, it be, able to leap, single tortoise bound, speedy UFO jet jump
Unexplainable Frost Oracle shrieking out, “Me head, be not made, to fly.”
The sleuth in me body, trying to stay incognito, being Conservative philosopher.
Me pumpkin, needs tack flash lights, set to distress setting, meeting someone
Ah, here comes me, a bard victim of low esteem, “one” who writes dead sentences
Dark pitch, moonless night-stalker, knight be flashing I’s amid tongue aflame
Poor poet, did not know, what hit him, running backward, but looking forward.
Poet shouted, “I see the light, I have been saved from object obscurity,”
From then on, his poetry, ran from right to left, needing mirrors to decipher
He would become the famous Backward Poet Philosopher flip of enlightenment
Was not long after, reports floated in, to get aHead to aBody GPS navigation
But me head, stopped reporting on its fright trail, a few body less days ago.
Come on Night Mare Nag, you have a skeleton with a head aHead.

Me head was treated like Poet Royalty, befitting a shining exoskeleton armor
Me head, went ahhhhhhhhhhhh, when me seen, me new Poet Knight breastplate
They had it pulsating and breathing, to make me, want to cry - with happiness.
They took me, off my headboard, and put me, into a robotic head, amid sensors
Why, I almost knocked out, a tech with me new right hand that was just
Trying to scratch, me head, inside a shell containment field, full of amazement
Why in no time, me new shell, was attuned to me head’s concrete thoughts
About that time, me exoskeleton vibrated, and farted so loud, Me head blushed
As a tech laughed, then did the others, so me had to laugh hard - with them
Me head wondered, how many more surprises, they had in store, for me aHead
Why it shined, so bright, it reflected poetry, and had a stealth mode available
So all, one could see, was a flat face, looking at me, and nothing, me looking away
Me head, just could not be, all around people, then me had to find, wall to look into
Oh yeah, and they made, me head look luminous, To Be feared, a-gasp floating night
That would give poets something to write about, other than themselves, self-mirrored
Or their esteem shadows in graduating degrees, they seem to, always have, to espouse
Amid English Literary Accomplishments, as me heard, my exoskeleton fart, in agreement.
My God, what is that smell, as tech’s evacuated, butt it kept following me head
Me head’s eyes burnt, me nose, me nose, oh me nose - needed nose plugs.
Finally, me head cleared, the tech’s returned to explain that it was skunk reaction
Quickly, they explained, me exoskeletal alarms, so none, would go off, by accident
A few days, and me head, was shown door, clapping hands, me head, moved Ahead.

Me Skelton, Iphone 7 brain, started hearing about breathing, clanging loud knight
Poets would see, this shining streak, in between leaves, and brush with insanity
Seems some, tech programmed, knight sounds, upon night flights, for poets in fright
One poet, hid startled, he thought, everything was clear, then face, appeared before him
He thought, he heard his maker say, “Sorry about that,” as it went thin and disappeared
After seeing pink elephants, night before, he swore off beer, now it be - no more root beer
He was off in a flash, forever on, Poetry’s famous Sober Flasher of Metaphoric Abstractions
The Nobel of Prized English Proper Poetry grew concerned, subservient subservice bards
Been upstaging their elite Conservative Professionalism to follow rhyme in structured formats
To Be - prim and proper, their way, to write verse, one must Master it, with Doctor’s degrees
Meaning metaphors had metaphors, and a few big words needing dictionary – dictionaries.
That when you figured out one line, the next line screws with you, and at the very end ding
A reader has no idea, what it is about, but nods, in agreement, whilst naught understanding.
But people still applaud to elevate them higher, as Disciples of the English Language - Props.
Concerned, they sent a PI (Poet Instructor) devout follower, who could not be Free Versed
Me Iphone, thought it was strange, there be a Knight exoskeleton, with florescent flat head
But how, would me head, find me a body that be not mine, to use in its, poet body quest
But then me remembered, poets have inspirational, cognitive heads, amid agile - terse bodies.

The real head, went aHead, creating such sensation; devious Edgar Allen Poe, would be envious.
Soon Guy Fawkes, white florescent masks, ran amuck, which hunt, in, who was the poet charlatan.
Me robotic head, thought it had met a devious fate, when Mad Hatter, upon super sharp blade point
Entered, then left me, behind, running like a bat out of hell that me head flew past, fast its radar.
Finally me robot and me head, found a stealth veil that drove bats batty, is it, or is not there. mode.
Me head, amidst robotics, found Mad Hatter hat created poetic, beheading spot quoting, Lord Byron
Another spot became an Shakespeare authorship question, amid Sir Francis Bacon playhouse grounds.
Meanwhile, PI sleuth soothsayer, be probability projecting; but exoskeletal senses, be waiting in wake.
Ghostly wraith, be me head, to be seen, then me super poet exo-self appeared, flash out of nowhere
To the PI, amid shining armor clanging sounds; small beady eyes grew, black hair, became white as snow
Therein lays the story of the free verse Abominable showman, a folkloric poet-like creature taller than
Most prestigious professors trailing credentials, to be forked tailor made tails, birthday suit conjectures.
Me head, be thinking, me better find, me body quick, or poetry would suffer a transformation erection
Trans mentalism post moral abreaction yuppie breakdown in poetry without college erect foundations.

Me body’s GPS Iphone, led me, toward me missing head ahead, on the down ward trail frost poets take
With my nag strut, me white wig, poets looked down, passing by someone, so big, a tanned orange face
Me body, could sense me head, be close by, but where could it be, there be nothing, but forget me brush.

Me Head veiled in secrecy, seen this impressive Lord of majestic poetry aHead. Me head, will hide,
Out of sight. Wait a minute that was me nag with me body trotting by. What kind of poetry Lord
Be on my body with white wig. Ha, ha, ha, it be be the pumpkin head of the Headless Horseman
Riding by me head, who hurried to un-stealth me face first  - shouted, it me, its your head - behind you.

Me body pumpkin head turned to see a flourcent face then with this shining breathing armor plating

Quite concerning, upon that voice rang a bell that be my head’s voice on this a, a, a mechanical thing.
Me nag, be spooked, but then knew its master’s head rushed to greet this a, a, a electronic looking thing

Ever had you head, in one thing, and your body, doing another thing?
My exoskeleton hugged me body on bottom and me head hugged my pumpkin on the top.
Laughing in joy to be back together, sort of backwards or be it forwards, reverse, what ever.

Me head asked, how do we re unite, and me head’s exoskeleton said I am a Poetic surgeon
I have put together many a fallen poet, who have fell apart in Humpty Dumpty pieces
Me head’s robot body, will lead the four or be it two of us back the exoskeletal labs

Ever tried to coordinate two, who were one that now are and were apart - four pieces.
Who were, upon a nag, in two parts: stealth and other a majestic White Whig poet
Trotting by all these Guy Fawkes masks that seeing a Lord; bowed or looked away
Making it back to the quite mode, we unmounted and did snail this slow path
To the human and now be it nag front door

Tech shouted, “Welcome home you heroic pieces, you have made Poetry Proud.”
They took the four in two to make a poet whole again amid exoskeletal surgical hands.
After an hour me head and me body be one me was glad to see whole again
What happened next was a complete shocker
There was me former body’s bottom with me former head’s attached together
Seems they be on a quest along a fork golden road to find the Wizard of Oz Miracles
Since the bottom had armor and a heart, and the head had a Iphone with GPS
Grand Poetry Senses they would replace those Master Doctors with proper
English Head-to-Body-ography.

 (To Be aHead -  Too Bee Finished)  

 Might be a Poetic Robotic Pumpkin aHead