Sometimes I wonder
Why?
Why do I write?
Why do I cry?
Why do I smile,
laugh,
Be snide?
And after I've X'd my whys,
I ask,
What?
What kind of poetry is this?
What is the meaning of my own words?
(Can someone give me the answer-I feel like a turd)
And after I've what'd the what's-wait, what?
Then I ask,
.....what do I ask?
Why would I ask?
Huh.
I suppose of My Six Honest Serving Men,
Who taught me all I know,
(Their names are What and When and Why and How and Where and Who)
I rely on what and why.
I rely on what?
When do I rely?
Why do I rely?
How do I rely on them?
Where do I rely on them?
Who do I rely on?Hey, don't ask me. I'm still searching for the answers.
YOU ARE READING
Purposeful Poetry Without the Purpose
RastgeleWhen reading my poems, one might think, 'this guy is insane...' Well, worry not, because I'm NOT crazy, I'm just a poet! ....which pretty much means being a bit kooky is in the job description. Where was I going with this again? Ah, forget it, just...