In Here
Hi,
how are ya?
What are you Doing these days?
Well,
I have no job, no house mortgaged
to the hilt in My Name,
nor a fancy car ...
Who I Are?
Nothing ...
if not what I am Doing.
What are You doing?
Nothing.
How to be a Human Being
if not Doing?
Soul scream
Here I Am.
How Important,
how Special
Spiritual Human
crying why must I be
what you cannot see?
Maudlin muck
passing for poetry
oozing out of fogged memories,
rusty rembrances ...
who cares?
Are you there?
Oh, there Is friendship to share,
and bodies to hug,
souls to unite in sentimental religiosity
or some other 12-step way
of eternal psychobabble.
Here inside a processor of words
I am alone always.
Finding solace ...
or merely
florescent yellow letters
glowing together in
meanderings?
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