8/29/2012

Speak No More

A mouth of words, a heart filled
with colorful strings knotted, jumbled;
I'm not qualified to unravel them.

Sometimes the sound of bees
makes more sense than poems
or the oration of sciences.

A belly growling for food,
a foot tapping beneath a table,
the sore spot squeaking between

the ribs like loose coils
of a bed-   educate the masses
without certificates of wisdom.

I'm tired of hoping to sound
beautiful while effortlessly silence
and what fills it is far more
handsome.


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