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There once was a mime

Who lived in a time,

1960s or 1970s

Or something like that.

The mime used to mine

Coal in a coal mine,

It took a long - it took a long time,

So he had to have a pastime,

While he was - he was covered up in grime,

So he used to make up rhymes.

“Oh hi di hi di ho,

Oh hi di hi di no.

Oh hi di hi di hi,

Oh hi di hi di bye!”

Then the coal mine shut down

And he was out of a job,

And in the meantime, his friends were tired of his rhymes

And they told him “shut up” a million times

“If you want to rhyme all your lifetime, then good luck trying to be a mime sometime!”

So that is what he did.

He soon found out that, being a mime, you didn’t get to rhyme

See, it’s a crime

To rhyme anytime as a mime.

And what good is a rhyming mime if mimes don’t rhyme at at any miming time?


To let time flow by is to walk on a minefield,

To exist is to kneel on thin ice,




Let the dimensions wash over you

Let’s walk in the field at sundown

And let the sunbeams be our banisters

The purple heather and the sweetgrass would be our beds

And we would lie down in them, and softly drift off to sleep


How did it come to this?

Can I be overwhelmed?

I am having so many thoughts at once;

A possible murder happened last night,

With a man that gave his home to the homeless, or people without a home,

He was seen earlier that day, and now he’s dead,

How did this happen? Is it evil doing? Was he old? Why would someone do such a thing?

I don’t want to lie, because poems are should never lie inside, because they are supposed to be truth in heart,

I feel like I should apologize for all my crimes,

He is the voice inside of all of our heads, the voice of reason, of regret

And I am sorry.

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