Empty

A Take on the Sound Poem

Level-Headed

Whole-Hearted

Heavy-Handed

ebbs and flows of Times

and time again we aren’t

tall enough to reach the proverbially literal

Cookie jar

while the metaphysical

Cookie jar

sits closer much, much closer

So close and yet so far from

Eden. The Eden we know–not the one we’ve forgotten.

Good riddance

To oh such a troubled mentality

To Oliver Twist, to Oliver Stone, to Oliver Cromwell

Stay Empty and bear down

 

We aren’t who We say We are

And We surely

Aren’t who We are looking for

 

Jam packed with so much congested emptiness,

I can no longer see the way out of the dark

But at least I know I’m going home

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Empty
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