Tied Up...

Tied up are we all,

In our little worlds trying to have a ball,

Fenced in by our passions, our fancies and going to the mall,

Believing we are more than we are, no less significant than the next,

Hope you can read & understand herein my less complex text?

Constantly looking and searching for the one,

What is the one we ask ourselves, not to be outdone,

Could it be just what we think, maybe that of a pun?

Could our life, be that of a dish of poop,

Served to us with ice cream and cool whip, while we do scoop,

Are we here, right now, or are we nothing but an insignificant pile of doggie doo,

Again given to us with all the right intentions, but only we cannot see,

What the designer had in mind, when he put us here to further make us blind,

To the life we have as it is worthless in the end, what good is it, in the here and now, I do portend?

Is this write making any sense, or am I just rambling on down the road of life,

Stepping in the poop, tripping on the strife,

Making an otherwise well thought out poem, into a pile of lice,

I could go on, but why bother, as you are not really reading this,

As you are really, even though you don’t realize, just as dead as a corpse,

All of us are the same, we all write and read sometimes, as we are just as warped, as I…      

                           © ed – 4/22/04