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Get It Out

Am I here to write?
And to have an appetite?
Do I look the way I sound?
Am I lost deep underground?
The wise don't say much,
But have a gentle touch,
And put their calm names in the sand.
I follow with my eyes,
The things that will surprise,
As they move on past me.
This could only be,
Just my curiosity,
And my desire to know.
Give me a loud ring,
Then let me think and sing,
Because I need to get it out.
Is it all for a reason?
And worth one red cent?
To say a colorful phrase,
With so much eloquence?
Now I must try,
To let it multiply,
And calculate the words,
With my pen.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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Copyright©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow, Neocortex. All Rights Reserved.

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