The Versificator

My trusty editors and I are thrilled to announce the triumphant return of Jack Black's Body's Official Versificator-In-Residence, Bernanation. You may have seen her scurrying about the corridors of JBB World HQ and heard us whispering in awe, "There goes our Laureate of Rhyme!" Now she's back, with a spate of brand-spanking-new verses that we'll be bringing to you on an entirely irregular basis. Because this Revolution's got rhymes!

Wake

O! Tell me not in mournful numbers.
Life is not your empty dream,
because we all slumber in the sleep of one great dreamer,
always on the verge of wakefulness,
ready for his wake,
face blue and cold and wet with week old tears.

In the wake of the storm I am left,
clutching the air near a phantom limb.
Hold hold hold hold, but soft...

I sat in the window and watched the night break,
and leak moon all over the sidewalk,
walk walk walk,
all I want to do,
to give the holy man five more dollars,
hoping for karma to pay me back.