Pistachios, Pineapples, and Watermelon,

Don't ask what these mean, you will see;

One thing I hate, 

Another I love, 

The third I feel mellow apathy,

To see.

It's odd where our thoughts go, 

When we let chance impart,

To us its strange wisdom, 

Or impartial heart,

To wonder at food seems a strange, an odd task,

When compared with other poets whom, whisper at, 

Divine potential hidden in,

The gardens of wonder which lie within, 

Our souls enticing reach, 

And, 

Tantalizing us with this,

A heretofore unheard of gift,

Of peace and plenty,

Doth afford,

Thus,

An everlasting prosperity to every woman and child, 

Whom,

Witless innocence advantage taken of,

Should hear the poets blessed poem,

And let their thoughs be carried away,

in it.

And so I realize,

An obvious fact:

We need more comedy in life.

Thus I set my path,

Realize my effort,

and try in vain to form a poem,

So recklessly pointless in it's humurous asthetic,

It never fails to have no other purpose.

What I have come to know is this:

No poem is written without meaning,

No poem has one view,

No poem has no other aspect to it,

It's hidden asthetic is always in view.

So look, 

And see,

A poem that started out as a joke,

Given life, 

purpose, 

And history;

And meanings none of you have chosen to see.

Some of my poems hold secrets,

Parts of my day hidden from view,

Emotions and truths I'm scared to reveal,

Lest they somehow to me become real.

Can you find them?

Or are my poems,

to you;

one dimensional?

Watermelons,

Pineapples,

Pistachios.

_____________________________________

(A/N) Hey Guys!

You ready for a hunt?

First one to find the poem with the hidden message and decode it can give me any prompt they want- no matter what- and I'll write it this november for NA-NO-WRI-MO.

Ready?

Go.

Till next time, Sept-Mates!

Your Poet and Scribe,

~ShadeFinder<(0^0)>