The Walrus Said Poem by Frank Avon

The time has come,
the Walrus said,
except this time I'm
the walrus.

So it's time I head-
ed on:

on to Xanadu
where Kubla Khan
did not get
his river dammed,

on to Utopia,
which is NO Place
you'd ever
get scammed,

to the Elysian fields
where a dragon's tooth
a fighting, dying
warrior yields,

to the Garden of Eden,
where Adam and Eve
shoulda been weedin',
instead of eatin',

to Kalamazoo and Timbucktu,
whose rhythmic names
refer not to reindeer games
but to a place that's home
to Jim Buck Kazoo,

to old Tibet
where even yet
they venerate
the Lama,
not the llama, mind you,
but the Great Lama,

to Beulah Land
where I'll take my stand
but nowhere near
Alabama,

to the Land o' Goshen
where milk and honey flow
and, otherwise, there's
not much drama,
nor much commotion,

to Ararat,
where Noah set
his old ark down and
set free all them insects,

to Mt. Olympus
where gods and goddesses
went to relax
after all that sex
with merely mortal humans,

to Atlantis,
now submerged
for harboring
the praying mantis,
who killed her mate,
after she persuaded
him to impregnate her,

to Norse Asgard,
where Valkyries
fly their heroes
to the grand Valhalla,
where they reign
with great king Odin,
aka Woden, the old one,
to whom each week, they say,
we dedicate W(od) ensday,

to Shangri-La
where peaches grow
row on row
and the dynasty of Han
came to know
their farther reaches,

to El Dorado,
the land of gold,
where adventurers pause
and Ancients go,

to Wonderland
where Alice ran
after the rabbit,
and the Cheshire cat
can smile and grin,
till it becomes a habit,

ah, yes, to the Land of Oz
which never was
and evermore will be
home of the knave
and land where we flee.

The time has come,
the Walrus said,
so I'll head home
to one of these,
or Tennessee,
which always will be
home to me.