Working In a Factory of Words N Poetry Soup Is the Hub

A hub stays put But around it the wheel rolls A hub only feels the weight of the load on the road But the wheel rubs on the surface of it all In mud, on dirt, on tar The wheel is not afraid to roll for it fits within its purpose The hub always stays put in the middle of the wheel But with it everywhere it goes Poetry soup is the hub And around it like a wheel I’m gonna roll Sometimes the surface maybe on a tarmac so smooth Sometimes I may wade through mud so sticky and deep Sometimes I may leave so much dust rising on my trail But an artist is all I am A creature of emotions working shifts in the factory of words Mine is just to pack The emotions endeared to me in the wrappers of words Each day different from the one gone past Sometimes it’s heaven is on a roll Sometimes it’s hell in a storm But being the servant I am My position at the factory Impels me to wrap it all in the assembly line of words So please understand Don’t blame the packer working shifts in the factory of words Blame the company for producing all the sincere stuff