No title…

Any sense that this is an actual write,

Is just lack of common sense on the part of the writer,

This writer has reached a block, a dyke, a wall, if you will,

Cannot find, can he anything to write about,

Beyond that of nothingness or the applied theory therein, but still…

Even that has its roots in a writers mind,   

To find nothingness is to find,

A thin but definitive line through that of time,

The space-time continuum continues as is stated,

Through each and every lifetime we do together to rhyme…

Am I repeating myself, herein, like that of another poem?

So recently posted, it may have been last, I would be aghast,

If I were to copy something from the last, again, no class,

Sorry if this sounds just a bit alike to a certain “write about nothing,”

But I seem to be in a canyon, unable to discover to write something,

So herein I just have to blast out the cobwebs in my “id” so thick…

As time moves on, I will again write about more, or to make ends meet,

I may have to become, even though I don’t look the part, a whore, so neat…

                © ed – 4/1/04 J