adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

A Noise, a poem

A Noise

I have no lies,
I have no truths,
only words that might
mean something to someone.

They hold nothing,
nothing for me,
no meanings, no subtle truths,
no, not even lies.

Let me craft some
into a noise
for you, a nonsense song,
a drone to mask the traffic,

that endless passing
toward tomorrow.
Don’t look out the window;
nothing’s to be seen.

Stephen Brooke ©2016

Not the poem it started out to be. Whether that is good or not, I do not know, but at least it is finished. More or less.

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