methinks i writes too abstractly
too compactly too exactly
if'n one doesn't know what i mean already
one's brain could feel like confetti
i got no call in the matter
i serve to you what's on my platter
nothing i know that i can do
'cept shut my mouth and not say boo
but it builds within and comes on out
just won't follow no other route
i write my mind i write my heart
every ending is another start
guess i'll keep on doing what i do
and hope your brain doesn't turn to goo
thanks for your readership!
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My pleasure! Keep 'em coming.
ReplyDeleteTroutbum
Hey my brain's already goo!
ReplyDeleteAs a good friend says,
"Me likey" LG
Good poem, George. Poetry shares some traits with mysticism. It's going beyond mind. You can only be you. You can't make your readers comprehend your writings. Understanding has to come from within as does realization.
ReplyDeleteYep, you just keep on doing what you do
ReplyDeleteand let me worry about my brain
turning to goo
Thanks, George!
No problem here. Iza wonder bout n-e-thin and nothin al th' time. sumtime it gos n one ear and ot th oder ear like a siv no matter what. don't fret yourselv on mysiv
ReplyDeleteI think I got the message here. Just shut up and write!
ReplyDeleteThat put a big grin on my face, George! Thank you!
ReplyDelete