Nothing

This poem is about nothing

That is really about something.

Where anything occupies space

In existence terse taking anyspace.

It is to grasp nobody as somebody

That after all, we are full of antibody,

Repelling in some degree respondent

By neutralizing germs with a response.

I suppose you could say, I am naught

To Be a poet tied within obscure zilch knots.

Yet one belches with the itch need to scratch

 With poetry nails hitch weave word thatches.

Pitch your verse, where you pinch pure presence.

Trump will object to Hillary’s female omnipresence.

That being not that black, or feminine, To Be well-to-do

Upon the other side, we need to never ever be ridiculed,

By fraternal society making to other side feel like Nothing.

David Lester Young 06/11/2016