Poem: Words

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #26.)

i cannot but help be compelled
-you’ll see- to speak of any thing
just let the sounds all dribble out
gently adhering where they cling

words often reveal fine meanings
far away and above my head
that others see and then applaud
thinking “See where his thoughts have led!”

the reality is just this
i never know what i will hack
it simply leaks right out my pen
staining pure white all inky black

i do think that my words are crude
bitumen blend best burned away
later refined by smarter ones
to mean what they might really say

i have no wisdom in these words
no conception of intention
another idiot savant
exceeding his comprehension

inside my heart and in my soul
reside a million mad monkeys
crazily just jabbing away
the gibbering of street junkies

randomly patterns will appear
that echo of William Shakespeare
tickle your brain and disappear
lost in the bitter swirl of beer

words taste great and are less thrilling –
well that was a waste of your time
now run along, enjoy your day
while i go mangle another rhyme.

8 thoughts on “Poem: Words

    1. My words don’t matter. I learned that long ago. I am but a gust of wind and the swirling puff of dust. Glad you came back to read 😉
      Sorry to see all your words deleted. I like to read what you write and I enjoy how you see the world.


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