I’m looking at white paper, lined
Pen in one hand, loaded gun in the other
By the time of dawns gray
Words or blood will spill
Thoughts butterfly thru my mind
Words in abandonment elude
Dictionary and word books confuse
Words tear and rip my gray matter
A simple verse is all I ask
The configuration of letters
Is my Mecca. - May I rest my
Weary head with a metaphor
Sunlight approaches and no
Innuendo for my thirst
In all that is and ever will be
I have yet to receive these
Two words-The end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem