In my mother's house there is a room:
The floor has never seen a broom
The windows have never seen a rag
The bottoms of the drawers have begun to sag
Stuff fills the corners, stuff covers the walls
Cascading across the floorboards in junky waterfalls
A rat's nest of trinkets, thingies by the score,
The furniture isnt visible anymore
And each day more doo-dads come in the door.
All the stuff gets mixed and tossed about...
...but only the lucky will ever come out!
 
 

Something Under My Bed

There is something under my bed.
Maybe its green and slimy,
Or maybe its blue, gooey, and grimy
Maybe its a squashed overgrown zucchini,
Or moldy monster brains, bluey and greeny.
But I know its there.

There is something under my bed.
It could be a vast civilization of mold,
Churning and undulating and gruesome to behold.
It's allied itself withe Martians, together they can't be stopped!
They're mining chemicals and making bombs from batteries I've dropped!

There is something under my bed.
It could be an army of aliens,
With eye stalks protruding like tentacles all around,
And the nastiest temperament to be found.
A purple brain lies in the middle, brimming with intelligence,
Preparing for a battle that will  be remembered for ages hence.

Perhaps the U.S. Government has hidden secret weapons technology there,
To investigate strange noises, they couldn't find a better lair.

Or worst of all, it could be monsters.
Monsters! Under my bed,
With dagger-like teeth six feet long,
And eyes of gleaming red.
With their breath of flame and claws of steel,
They'll dine on ME for their next meal!

There is something under my bed.
Only I know it's there.
A parade of dust balls,
An army of lint dancing in the air.

There is something under my bed.