Unwritten rhymes
Are like WMDs.
You don't know where they come from,
Who's hiding them,
Or where they'll be launched to.
But save the date.
Remember the occasion.
The words will drop
Like bombs,
And no spaghetti
Will be on my sweater today.
Because I remember
The beats
And the hearts
That must break
To make a melody so
Truthful
That you can't believe
It's broken
Until the record won't
Play,
And the vinyl
Is scratched,
And the radio
Is static,
And the TV is broken,
And YouTube won't
Stop playing those
Damn,
Fucking,
Ads.
Sometimes you've gotta
Lose
Yourself
To find
Yourself.
Mine took a walk
Or two
And 8 written poems
In a day,
Only
A
Few.
11 Miles
Never felt so refreshing
As the trot
To the land of
Gossip
Girl.
Exploring the island,
But not
Long
Islands,
Was quite
Quenching.
My teeth stopped
Clenching.
The dust settled.
From the unwritten thoughts:
Poetry.