Poems of everette johnson
|1.||A fear of life||4/3/2013|
|2.||A mouth full of poetry||4/2/2013|
|4.||Awfully-well dressed man||4/2/2013|
|6.||Keys on a key board||4/2/2013|
|12.||The good luck chain||4/8/2013|
|13.||The Lucky Writer||4/9/2013|
Being alone is like hearing a single tone one.
Building a house alone is like standing in a storm that's
about to start and you just felt a little
rain drop falling on it's own one
writing this poem alone is like hearing a sad old song
in a room alone one driving and walking to get
home seem's like forever as you go on being next to a
phone with no tone what you call that? I call it alone.