Froggacuda's Weblog

Michael is stuck in his own little world
others can only look in through the bars
like a curious ape that scientists can’t explain.
I throw gorilla chips at you.
– – –
if I don’t have it in my own little world,
I will make it or dream it up somehow.
incomprehensible, yes; to me this is magical.
you ask me what I do and I will reply
that Michael is diligently learning to fly.
– – –
my place is where I sing;
I can make noise and it is beautiful music.
I can howl at the moon and the beasties will answer.
art makes no sense and that is its perfection;
can you do this? this is being stuck in my own little world,
so who are you to look through the bars?
– – –
sometimes lonely mike, sometimes tragic Michael.
nobody here to impress but myself, and to be bored with oneself
is to give up and die.
many other things I sing of…