A Plate Of Glass Poem by John Ackerman

A Plate Of Glass

hit a tender nerve
as if you haven't heard
what a disturbing word
time is on our side by in time
we all want to run away & hide
from the notion of love
springs from help from above
tend to push things under the rug
hearing voices with tender choices
can't even cope with hope
like having a fight with the soap on the rope
yet I'm doing my thing in the evil swing
nothing but a plate of glass
right out on the patio
the weaker you get inflates your ego

a song in silence
a hymn in private
words expressed words unheard
life is but a contest
it's filled with tests I must confess
some are left behind an eight ball
from that of a know it all
but you will know when your number is up
now at a good angle the plate glimmers in the light
never give up on the fight