The tunnels brush borders where mortals grow

The virtue and order of Brussels (the order of mankind) subtle are

Lavishing shabby living deep in the furrows

Fairies and goblins galore who sing and wail

All so deep down in the levies whimsy-dale

And children run through the tree tunnel

Trying to reach the end but rumor has it

Somewhere in the middle or amongst a dim light

Children deepen and become converted

Hair begins to grow, oh so, much longer

Fingernails sharpen and added hunger

Toenails yellow from muddy wet dirt

Switching from boys to men and then

Sometimes switching from boys to women

Fairies come to dust shiny fairly dusty things

Faces once plump become downright fat and detestable

And bodies all girlie become hairy and like older yearlings

Boys end having odd bulbous noses that flake

Reshaping orientation and finding away back

Never thought modifications tweak us away

But anything is possible in the tunneling of brush

Leaving the tunnels, the pretty are rough and gruff

Leaving the tunnels, the oh so ugly are then pretty

The fairies giggle at their high fashion designers abilities

A long runway showing off the humankind

Oh my goodness- we are not handsome or ~

very pretty

BJ@2016 AII RIGHTS RESERVED thank you

older poem, edited today

Figuring out that I’ve written many poems and shan’t write another without tender tampering my archaic words I’ve plundered.