Maharaja Blues

🦩 “Don’t Trust the Lobster” 🦞  by Pink Flamingo, still hungry At Café Plume, where mornings gleam, I sipped my tea and chased a dream. My toast was golden, fruit divine A breakfast fit for wings like mine. Then came a lobster, smooth and sly, With compliments and crustacean eye. He charmed his way with tales and flair, And Pink, too kind, said “Take a chair.” He spoke of tides and gourmet brine, Of kelp soufflé and sea-salt wine. But while I laughed and took a sip My breakfast vanished from his grip. No sorry glance, no crustacean shame,   Just crumbs and clawprints in his name.   So heed me now, from reef to dune:   Don’t trust a lobster before noon. Original Cafe Plume entry Cafe Plume Full story index blog-story-category-index

by The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo I boiled the moon in a kettle of brass,   With a whisper of thunder and a pinch of sass.   The teabag danced like a drowsy gazelle,   While the sugar cubes sang of a caramel spell. I stirred with a wand made of celery root,   And added a sock for a hint of galoot.   The steam rose up in a spiral of dreams,   Smelling faintly of pickles and tambourine screams. The cup was a hat from a duchess’s toe,   The saucer a frisbee last seen in Bordeaux.   I sipped with a slurp and a hiccup of grace,   Then rode a hot biscuit to outermost space. Oh tea, thou tempest in porcelain guise,   You tickle my brain and befuddle my eyes.   So next time you brew, don’t settle for bland Invite a flamingo, and stir with your hand. Full story index blog-story-category-index

Set in the Peruvian Andes on La Camino Inca (Inca Trail) to Machu Picchu High in the Andes, where condors glide,   And Machu Picchu dreams on the mountainside,   Four beasts in kurta, bold and true,   Climbed through clouds in a quest for brew. 🐅 Tiger on tabla, with princely grace,   Tapped rhythms that echoed through sacred space.   His turban caught the morning sun,   As he beat the path where myths still run. 🦊 Fox on harmonica, sly and keen,   Blew tunes that shimmered in Incan sheen.   Each note a whisper, each breath a guide,   Through terraces lost and temples wide. 🐓 Rooster on resonator, strumming fire,   Played riffs that made the stone walls inspire.   His blues rang out through the citadel,   Waking spirits with a sonic spell. 🐻 Bear on bass, sunglasses firm,   Dropped grooves that made the llamas squirm.   His thump was thunder, hi...