Pigs Might Fly

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

"Oi, my boy, what a joyful hoist"
said Roy the coy guy from Illinois.

"What a pip this is a trip"
Intoned Kip the young drip,
"If she slips or has fits, can she flip?"

Of course their discource had a source, it wasn't forced,
a pig child once filed under "mild" had gone wild.

and now flew, such a view, yet far too true to skew,
all in blue, what to do, scream whoohoo!

Her name this, "Miss Chris", she swished, at her bliss
and provided outside, undenied,

a feeling of unpeeling, senses reeling, moments stealing
supple wonder from the blunder of love under her.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Stepping through a mirror on my way to a soccerball game
I ran into a fortune telling whisperfish.

In keeping with tradition as I clowntripped through the frame
I tipped my hat and threw my coat back with a swish.

A flying pig was hovering there beside an orange tree,
I smiled and wondered if my fly was zippered

She quearied me, was I the man who would oil her door hinge free
When I said "no" she marked it on her clipboard.

I saw an angel with her story of wonder out on a table spread
she kissed me and gave my neck a quickgentle bite.

I feel the memory became laundry spinning round my feeble head
insistent misty fishwhispered bubbledream flight.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

* No Need for Reasons

This kid painted flying pigs through the livelong day
Never going out, not even in good weather
She would stretch her own canvas and roundpink it up
And watch colliding colors come together

Her life became a study in the brushagainsting dance
She purpled, pinked, skyed, winged and snouted
From Mardi Gras morning to twilight on Kwanzaa
She never second guessed herself or doubted

You could question her why she obsessed with the sky
Why she painted and painted pigs as they flew
There would be no remorse no concession no excuse
She would look at you replying “cause I do.”


*

[ 01-31-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

With a weatherswept breeze the four flyers rose up,
bequitting the ground unearthstuckingly.,
thus lifted, they touched breezy airs above farmgrass
sniffing sublime serendipity


they circled the farm in a whimsical way
and came home all refreshed from space
bemagiced on a hypothetical snowday,
returning to natural with grace.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Priscilla Penelope Pritchett, the perrenial pyro pig girl,
was pondering the past, collecting her thoughts, peacing out in quite a swirl,
when the candle she carried collided and caught
on the Bengalese basket she'd brought.
The flames flared up and fought,
heavens knows it was hot,
a tense tedious lesson was taught.

Beanie babies were burned as a clown worked an urn slowly filling to spilling his big jug.
A small guitar player raced round throwing water, from pots pans and even a pig mug.
There were objects of art burned to crisp, torn apart, and a bunch of black shmutz on the rug.

Now our Pris gives a miss to the candles and this is a good thing you might well agree.
She has taken up flying instead and though she's bumped her head its still safer, you see.

[ 02-13-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I spoke with a pig Tuesday last
she played hockey, styly and fast.
She was struck with her luck,
as she pummelled the puck,
and through goalie legs it flew past

She was so sure that night was unique,
that her life was approaching its peak,
she bucked up and tried flying.
Her pluck stuck, no denying.
We haven't seen her for a week.

[ 02-13-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Skyler the flying pig took wind and cruised through the air last night.
He wheeled up through treetops and winged to the skyway and saw many more than one sight.
A constellation of leprosy on a colony far below,
and the love of exclusion shared there among them, a love force that we'll never know.
A massive convention of ladybugs lingering on the side of a magical church,
an unexpected northerly breeze, and the way that it made Skyler lurch.
A clown on a street corner preaching trick laughter and calling forth tickled emotion.
And mountains and meadows, motorbikes meandering and mellowing to mistriddled ocean.
His mind to capacity filled up with flight and his senses most pleased at these dream seas,
he wheeled it on home to his table and flowers and had a nice bagel with cream cheese.


*

[ 02-03-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Albert Abercrombie Aftermath Ashley, the flying pig who lives beside the meadow,
was pulling away from a table all heavy with cookies pies brownies and jello.

"Would you please pass the ice cream and cucumbers, my friend, and hand me the crackers and cocoa?
I'm ready to nosh on the old Lucky Charms, bring 'em over now there's a good fellow."

I've known him 17 years or more and I asked "Al, what brings you to eat now?
Have you chosen to weigh in this Spring at the Fair and have everyone call you 'old beef cow'?"

He wiped off his chin with his trotter and gave me a sly and considerate wink.
He pushed himself back from the table and sighed, and farted, the nasty old fink.

"I'm putting it back philosophically, lad, for reasons sentimental.
I've just rediscovered my innner child, and I feel that the kid meant to eat well."

*

[ 02-03-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Tireless inchoate meanderings
in a mental playground in the sky.
I am lost as I float on the back of a pig, and I have not a clue as to why
we are flying above fields of corn and green clover
as tiny trucks travel the road.
My pig is named Barnaby Fellsingworth Prentice, we met through my tailor, Tod the toad.

[ 02-05-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

I stared at the stars way late last night and wondered of faraway places.
"There's stuff going on out there and I'm clueless" I thought while I made funny faces.
"Why doesn't magic happen to me?" I asked of the stars as they smiled.
And right then a big old pink pig flew by, and she hovered and gestured and styled.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Whisps of cloud careened past Sally Potter as she flew.
There weren't any sandwiches, but she knew what to do.
She flew over the beach where tourists gaped and gawked and puzzled
They'de never seen a flying pig and while their brains were fuzzled,
she swooped in close and snagged a cheeseburg, ice cream cone, and coke.
From a gaping wide-mouthed thunderstricken wife's dream of a bloke.
As she flew off, she whispered in a "Thanks, Mate" to his ear.
And he, in turn, had the manners and grace to toss off a quick "Cheers!"

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Though Eunice wore glasses, she was a proud pig,
in her stubborn yet obstinate way.
She could put Mojoroller the dog on her back and fly right from the farm to the bay.
Where the two would have picnics with cheeses and fruits, with good cocoa and crackers and jelly.
Because Eunice was also a biker pig chick, and had saddlebags strapped to her belly.

[Lynneski]

A flying pig brings silly images to mind
As you've undoubtedly heard
Like soaring and swooping and cruising about
And loop-the-loops done backward
But I'll bet if you eyed a big sow overhead
Floating as free as a bird
That you would have a huge grin on your face
Making you look equally absurd

[Lynneski]

(Sung to the tune of Frere Jacques)

Flying pi-ig,
Flying pi-ig,
Where are you?
Where are you?
Hiding behind the ba-arn,
Hiding behind the ba-arn,
Making pink poo.
Making pink poo.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Icicles longed over all of the space like a tinselbestrewn barking Vegaspath.
It was winter, of course, and my heart was as dark as the black throne beneath old Darth Vader's pants.

I was standing alone not humming a tune about joybaths and flower conventions,
wondering where I could hide from the masses of posturing precious pretensions

I absentspiritedly looked at and pondered the shape of my muffin, not chewing,
and slowrolled it round on my upturned hand as my chatterbox brain kept on spewing.


Then a lumbering toiling workingman's pig flew in front of me, right at eye level.
as he passed he said "WHOOp, whats this, surplus I see? Now toss me that muffin, good fellow."


Newly impulsed, I tossed it right into his trotter with hushed precision poise.
It was caught like an expert and chomped in an instant and with it vanished mental noise.


*

[ 02-07-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>