Sitting here in the big empty
Keep waiting for the words to come
Staring at you in my memory
Feeling like your here and you want some
But I don't know how to give it to you
And you don't know what to do with that
Can't go on so blue
Need to take a turn at the corner and come back
The voices are quiet
And I don't know what to do with that
I'm kind of tired of the riot
And feeling like I'm stuffed in a sack.
It's just another day
In my empty room
Waiting for you to say
Someone be coming soon.
2 comments:
"someone be coming soon".
I have this crazy notion that the final words in a poem are the subconscious mind's last ditch effort to be heard. It's like a message in a bottle from some cast away. To get in the last word. Crazy, but out of respect, I tend to name my poems after the last few words.
Great Poems, Rambler.
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