The Flying Monkey’s
I spent many years in my search.
Following every lead, for what it’s worth.
You may think it all kind of funny.
But, I found the land of the flying monkey.
It is a place shrouded in mystery.
A place that doesn’t have a history.
It is an island lost in time.
It is a place that’s hard to find.
I arrived in the murky mist.
I really wasn’t sure of this.
My crew and I went ashore.
Like a demon opened a door.
We couldn’t see much in the mist.
I pointed the way and made a fist.
A jungle started at the shore.
We used machete’s to make a door.
We hacked a trail for a couple miles.
We marched along in single file.
Then, we heard a screeching noise.
It sounded like a monkey toy.
Overhead, something flew by.
Scared me so bad I thought I would die.
More things were seen flying around.
Then one landed on the ground.
A flying monkey. There was no doubt.
This is what our trip was all about.
They kept their distance. They were smart.
We couldn’t coax one into a cart.
I wouldn’t shoot one. It’s not my way.
We found a skeleton the very next day.
We had pictures and we had the bones.
It was time to leave for home.
We had our proof they did exist.
There was little that we missed.
We kept the location secret.
Protected the monkey’s, with no regret.
The flying monkeys are still there .
Living free and flying everywhere.
We have the proof they do exist.
That’s all we wanted. Cross it off the list.
————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)