I wonder

sitting here with my page
in the dark. of the morning night
reading my autobiography in my mind
a couple of families to make me think

with the shadow of my manly groin, haunting me
my tone death ear contradicting my words
neither rich nor famous
scribble I

feelings which have remained all night
spurring me on with this write
my way to articulate the ongoing revolution
that is me

the deepest dark. precedes the light
can I call this poetry?
are there diamonds to be found?
in the crushing mine fields of my mind