I don’t think my hands have ever typed so fast! the rhymes literally poured out at a rate I was not sure to keep up at. i was possessed. utterly possessed. And I have just finished reading Joan Baez’s first autobiography, I don’t know if that helps…
Stream of Consciousness #9
who was who was pooh was greatly appreciatledy do
like whispers in summer
you were my love
like bouncing balloons on a string
you were my everything
like balls on bells on a summer day
you were my grass to my hay
my laugh to my chuckle,
my seat to my buckle
my trough to my stream
my laugh to my scream
my tie to myshirt
to my button
to my skirt
seam
you are were is my everything
like free lancing on the street
selling things so you can have food to eat
like strings on ropes and cords and strings
like my heart that constantly sings
whatever you do
you know you is my everything
like money in your pocket
like a chain of golden locket
like springs on balloons
and like the harvest moon
and like the trepidation s
or our silent meditations
and like the wind blowing at your feet and like having the stars to meet
like the wind blowing through the dust
like your mind saying, no , you must, you must
like this itch in my head that says you might prefer me instead
like this shallow of sorrow
that says there is no tomorrow
what’s the point of living,
I find myself saying
when everyone is already dead?
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 