The truth is
everybody has it
blossoming at the tip of the tongue
(cascading
at every interjection;
solace. Blessed be those inhaling
to reload their mouth
--a weapon of mass destruction
for that is the precise instant
(centrifuge alignment of planets!
when some silence
finally happens
and the other can tell its truth.
Though its just their turn.
Hence the truth is a semaphore
Whose turn is it? Green? Yellow?
Damned be all of you and your itch
to speak all the time.
When I was alone
(and I still am
I used to talk to my cat
and it was wise beyond its years!
For every time I opened my mouth
it licked itself, then scanned the room
with its feline eyes
and then it snoozed without a single worry
in this damned world.
And I hate cats.
I have never had one.
Originally posted by Seitsedon't get caught up counting thumbs,
It's funny how a mere piece of original poetry triggers the thumbs
down game. I doubt they come from a critical reading of the piece
on its merits.
towards reality, it will make you numb...
authentic thought is seen as such by those who are able...
