Selves moan and hail not leniency
And we blubber to rinse the precision...
Sound... said to move in only waves,
but... is it a particle, I ask...
We are mothers or fathers
the person down the street...
With all the imagination in my mind
I cannot imagine being born blind...
A multitude of fragmented words
filter in a cesspool of ink...
Lost soul,
Confused mind...
YIELD, slow down buddy
Smell the flowers and leaves today...
A single tear streaks down my face.
No one sees it, only me...
Elated spirits more often ascend
The concrete structures in a dream...
Temptation lurks around the corner
Striking down each joyful mourner...
I asked Him in a fearful time,
"Is what I'm believing right?"...
Once there was a prophet not so poetic
His poetic feet were actually pathetic...