Reading this way,
I have no message to say.
Might seem so,
but these words deam no.
My style comes over,
like a message udercover.

Go to the Bible,
it's the holy book to hold liable.
If you're looking for message,
my poems are only word adage.
It's nice if they speak,
instead of word weak.

For me writing is something to do,
when boredom goes boo.
I might write anything,
just to keep from doing nothing.
Writing is a game of words,
puts me up with the birds.

Knowing I'm on solid land,
I still swing my hand.
A bird has wings,
I have nothings.
Words really are cheap,
pull them out the air and keep.

Humanitarian in nature,
guides my word rapture,
within I'm in capture.
This poeming is only a trap,
bringing out forbidden mishap,
and other secrets in write scrap.

Misjudging eyes wanting too fight,
at every misunderstood word fright.
Figuring the poets playing God,
with his words in part.
Poor poet needs the savior,
using words to drown behavior.
Words sounding wise,
only expression in disguise.

What are we writing for,
other than to umbrella the down pour,
or even up in word score,
maybe so for profit and sob,
make money during the job.

These words are only rhyme,
I wrote them killing time.
Lock me up and throw away the key,
but these words came free.
Later on I'll pay,
for these words of say.

Fine tooth comb!

pocket.

G