Fibbing Coon.

I told the raccoon he was a liar.
For there is no good in this section of reality.
He laughs at me has as digs through the refuse of man.
But to him it is a treasure trove.
For his laughter makes me laugh.
I forget the world is so serious.
But I leave him and ask the humming bird the meaning of life.
She smiles and said.
On a fortune cookie to the east there is a saying.
Life is not a gift but a duty.
I tell the humming bird she is a fool and move to the east.
For when the axis spins the rain clouds back peddle.
Who am I but the son of a fool.
Yet we all play the clown in the circus of life.
I choose to be the ringleader of this asylum.
For the doors are open but the windows close.
Where are the guard dogs of the sane.
I believe another lie is, sanity is a gift.
I believe insanity is the ultimate level.
For the real world is a maximum-security prison.
Racism, poverty and gay porn.
All met to keep us in place.
For the hardest ward to escape is the mind.
But I know a trap door.
It called fantasy.