Lost Boy Boo’s Blue Dancing Shoes
There is a band of boys here that will seem quite out of place;
as lost as you, like a wrong turn in a race.
These lost boys are as welcome as rats in vats;
claimed by none, known for their spats, like feral cats.
Beware their enchanting ballads of entrancing bass,
as they will melt your face and invade brain space.
They come strewing showers of caws and croos:
sounds of shrieks and shrills like roosters with blues.
They spit with slight and slink from sight like a monster moves:
roaming the woods at night hunting hidden truths.
Nimble their feet dance wearing no shoes,
their bare callused feet tough as hooves.
Their attitudes resemble rebels during ruse,
calibrating an ensemble of pebble sized treble chanting Boos.
They covet the shine of true walking spine like yours and mine
and agitate at it’s gait prodding you like bait with hook and twine.
They wish to pull with trite and bump you left to right
a long a rigged bog shrouded in fog of spite and blight.
Wry creatures, watching from shadows like bandits drunk on grog,
often obstructing the river’s bridge with club of log.
Jokers, demanding a troll toll of gold and raising tattered scroll
threatening to cast a fairy spell that consumes mortal soul.
Spark your flame, girl known by crows, and light your way
or these wicked things of woes will regard you as prey.
Keep out of sight and your future bright with head of iron lined rind,
as these tricksters will attempt to bind and grind your minds eye blind.
Tune out The Lost Boy Band’s strum of lyrical madness’ note’s hum;
verses loose in rhyme, no meter or measure, at half broken thrum.