Pigs Might Fly

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The elder pig Bartholemew held forth yesterday
Presiding in the pen as his great wisdom held sway
All the pigs gathered round
Listening to the sound,
And waiting, hoping something would emerge all profound.

"This pigflight is elements of truimph replete
With lightheart anti-gravity intentions, to beat
A force cosmic in scope
To infuse with blind hope
A concept you're in love with and to swiftly elope."

Then quiet came on wings of calm and nobody spoke
For pigs in general are a deeply respectful folk
Till a pig lad named Bart
Ripped a firecracker fart
It punctured through the silent bubble just like a dart.


*

[ 02-11-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

"Now you've brought forth a new puzzle" said Puck as the waving trees took in the breeze.
"Disorientation surrounds me and balance is flat out cut off at its knees.
Like a metaphysical rolling globe, this puzzle defies casual solving.
Like a danced metal jewel in a daughter's ear lobe, I hear inquiry nudging and calling."

"We're thinking too much", Tom the rabbit replied to his new found and undefined friend,
there are factors around these equations that you and I simply cannot comprehend.

For some unknown reason, we’ve just seen a pig flying by on white wings in the night.
That pig didn’t care if it should have been there, or if its existence was right.
There’s no point in troubling our brains to conjecture if we’ll ever see one again.
Each time we pick worry leaves from future trees, they just grow brand new ones again.”

*

[ 02-09-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

“Did you know that the Indians once talked with smoke?”
my friend Emily asked me today.
“Yeah and now we have only these cell phones.” I said, as I sheepishly put mine away.

“There were trades made and deals wheeled: somewhere we sold out and some magic slipped off in the shuffle.
Instead of respecting this planet we share, our comfort urge caused us to waffle.

Where flying pigs lived, we put satellites up, where once unicorns, now horse races.
The loss is reflected in chilly behavior, in blankness on most people’s faces.

But pigs are still flying, in faraway skies, unhindered by rules we’re imposing.
And unicorns drink tea with pink elephants in cool places that they’re not disclosing.

Magic’s where you find it and its not quite dead yet, its been spotted by people I know,
Who connect with the scent of surprise and who dance in the skies as we smile down below.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A girl named Tomorrow was out in a field, and a soft rain fell into her hair.
Her magical flying companion pig Summer and her made an elegant pair.

“Goodbye” she said simply, as glimpses of daisybright laughdancing moments of play
inserted themselves in her heart, as the pig spread white wings and then floated away.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Of a pig that I know, pretty big, name of Joe,
Who was always a quick one to laugh,
He did like to gamble and smoke big cigars, and read newspapers while in the bath.

I loved Joe, we used to walk out in the fields, and two times a year in the evening,
He would smile at me and without explanation he’d do something beyond believing.

Joe was normal, you see, except for these nights, when a fey mood swept into his bones.
He personified levity, grew small white wings and flew into the sky all alone.

I would laugh as he rose up and clap my two hands, how that wild pig ride did defy me.
It was proof, in my youth, that no matter the evidence, nothing in life can define me.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

My uncle Pink does like to wink and laughs often enough.

A smile is quick to grace his face, his hands are big and tough.


He never sees the TV, reads the paper, or that stuff.

He doesn't pine with whiny folks, or people who are gruff.

You'll never see him in the gym to trim or get all buff.

He's not too shy to try and slyly dive into the muff.

He'd never fall for some dumb wolf threatening to huff and puff,

He'd meet and greet the beast and treat his ear to a gentle cuff.

Supposedly, on the coast today, though you'll say its boast or bluff,

Some guys saw him disguised flying through the sky and clouds of fluff.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

"I LOVE YOU!!! I can't be without you again!"
said the pink pig Priscilla P. Princeton.
"Your cosmic charm ways and these sunriddled days
have captured my heart in an instant.
I'll love you true blue, stick to you like tubed glue,
through whatever we two choose to do."
(It was true her love Hugh got confused, turning blue,
and right then did, anew, choose to cruise.)

His response was a little less tasty than she
in her rushed loving manner expected.
In fact folks, the long and the short of it is,
our Prissy was primly rejected.

"A ladybug flew to my snout just today"
Hugh retorted in odd counter cadence,
"Though the magic was not quite lost on me, per sé,
I must say, I did lack the patience,
to, I think the word here I seek is withstand,
overmuch of this unwelcome wonder.
And you, my dear Pris, like the ladybug, love,
have committed a bit of a blunder."

And the wildest thing happened at that point, my friend,
a sublime and most limitless force
just propelled our Hugh right up over the fence
to the wonder of Salvo the horse.

On that day our Pig Hugh figured out how to fly
with a speed most uncharacteristic
he didn't grow wings first or get on a plane
he just got one tremendous pissed Pris kick.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The bills were killing Winston, he was opening his mail
wishing he was at the trough, consuming a fresh pail.
He rolled his eyes and pondered how to make his money spread,
took off his shoes, hung up his pants and softly went to bed.
There in his dreams, he flew until he simply had to stop,
at Skyclad Waitress Restaurant, where 16 types of slop
awaited his perusal, and the greatest joy to see,
was no need to restrain himself, for every dish was free!

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Painted hues surrounded Phil the Pig late Thursday evening as he flew over rocks, cactus, skulls, and alabaster cities.
"My life is like a dream tonight" he pondered as he fishdanced like a swimmer through air currents, through their light gusts, waves and eddies.
"I'm drinking life like water, cultivating gratitude, ruminating ceaselessly as cities roll beneath me.
Its great to be a flying pig, my God, what a huge cactus there,
it shows how miniature indeed is that which was bequeathed me."
Life showered Phil with summer air and nature kept him flying there like black strong coffee porchpressed slowly rolling toward a cup.
He took it in and with it, grinned. Stars accompanied his silent song. He found himself so glad, purr glad, all glad that he was up.

[ 02-16-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A pig in the air yesterday,
smelled a muffin a mile away.
He took course toward the source
and, of course, quickly forced
the stunned muncher to toss it, in play.

As he scooped up the quick snack, he smiled
at another young muncher beguiled
this hip flip, chocolate chip,
was the tip of his trip
the flied mile, child, was well worth his while.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

At a gypsy caravan I met her
near me in a bonfire's warmth.
Drawn together by its light,
we followed where it led.

She writes stories of tree monkeys
and she dances in the winter
walks the day in pastborn forests
to her mandolin tinsong cadence.

For a pet she kept a monkey
who could climb upon a ladder
screeching loudly he would tell her
of his sunbright urgent need.

The monkey had a dear friend
a high flying pig performer
from the caravan's secret circus,
which is very rarely seen.

The two friends had traveled round the world,
had watched rivers lick a canyon:
stood on mountaintops together,
and waited for certain breeze.

Their time of friending both respected
flow of soul, feast of reason,
sometimes the love they held and shared
spread out mistlike, encircling.

She's out there, under winter stars
collecting moments gypsylike
protected by painted canvas
perhaps warm, beside a fire.

*

[ 02-17-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A little pig sat on the ground and wept into his teacup,
mumbling incoherently and wiping his eye with a trotter.
"Whats the use" I overheard him ask, and halted in my rolling gait
to check in on the melancholy creature wrapped in pink.

"Easy, lad," I started with, "a few more years and probably
elections will provide a different dunderhead to drivel"
"No, no" he shot back. Instantly I knew it wasn't politics.
"She'll come back on her knees." I said, "You know, nudge nudge, wink wink.

"Oh, No" he shot back, so I thought it might just be religion.
"Its ok, my pig, I'm sure they'll fire the pedophiling priests."
"What the hell?" He asked me, "Is your brain composed of orange soda?
Would those 3 topics bring me to these tears, now, do you think?

Its not the moron we allow to pose as our leader,
Its not some fancy dancing love whose left me feeling blue
Its not the church condoning buggery with people's money
Its only this one facet of my life that seems to stink.

I used to be a flying pig, and that goes on forever,
at least thats what one might believe, but listen, I can't fly!
I'm stuck down here, begrounded, no choice but to walk the planet
Don't trifle with me, stranger, I'm a pig whose on the brink."

"I see," I said, and sat myself beside the saddened sow,
"so stupid of me, sorry, I was certainly superficial."
"Quit talking in all s's, or I'll smack you with a hammer,"
he repied as I could feel my jovial mood begin to sink.

We sat and talked the day away, we covered many topics.
Companionship unlooked-for slowly picked him up a bit.
Contented as the evening came, we found a good agenda.
We stood up and we headed for the bar, to have a drink.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

"We're Safe!" said Bill, the barnyard pig with mud on his nose.
"From down here, there's no WAY you can fall.
It chafes, not to get up there and fly, I suppose,
but I'm not gonna get hurt, is all."

And young Binx, the pig kid, looked up at the stars
a tiny tear rolled down to his snout
Security, protection, like cold steel jail bars
were things he'd rather just do without.

[ 02-18-2002: Message edited by: Mr.Taxi Trix ]</p>

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Motion flows around me circling ceaseless in this sudden joy,
the breezes and beseeching clouds release me from my weary game.

Color worlds reflected in a soft yet wild winter song,
all playful hues unknowing that their differences make them the same.

Interesting to be above, and ride along to shatter through assumptions made by everyone that I was simply tame.

Flying through the day, laa.
"Pigs can't fly" they said to me.
"Pigs can't fly" they said to me.


- with a tip of the hat to the Beatles, and Phil.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

"Now let's put some distance between me and what's real."
thought Charlene the lean pristine pig
"Though I will grant you it has certain appeal
and a gutteral pleasure sublime,
if rolling in mud is as good as it gets,
then I quite simply choose to decline.
I can feel something truly adventurous calling
Its not living here on the farm
So I'm off to the sky, let the clouds wonder why,
How could it do any harm?"