Posted in Poetry

Stones

I never carved a word
into anything permanent
because “What is truth?” anyway

studying love
i discovered my blank mind
was dangerously close to hypocrisy

i smoked every flavor
sank my teeth into sugar
rubbed my ailments with alcohol

i brushed bugs off flowers
held the leash too tight
fought against God

and other people’s entities
draped as silver chains
and golden idols of mediocrity.

I once made a pile
stones stacked as fences
stretching for miles

met people who stopped to wonder
what energy provoked such nonsense
whether we agree or disagree
someone will come by and pick up a stone
laid gently to stop
only to be thrown

Just wonder how you write? This came to me in the past ten minutes. Is it any good? Make any sense? I throw my life into the poetic mix and wonder do my thoughts matter. Why matter anyway? Just drink my coffee and run. As always, comments are acceptable forms of relating here. Cannot say we wont misunderstand each other. But I will try my hardest to be available. Shalom, Jeanne