No Title Poem

Another thought poured down the gopher hole of life

Waiting for it to come up somewhere transformed

Transfigured and changed to eliminate the strife

Won’t know what it means those silly words I formed

‘Til they lay down flat and face the editing knife

Display explicit and paint words gone unmoored

Tie them to the dock; ship them later when they’re rife

Then limit them and make them uniform

What does it mean this endeavor so important in our life?

To put words on paper whose thoughts are only born

By confusion and wasted time we are commuted for life

From a prison of words that haunt and bring us thoughtless scorn

Just to end this for I don’t know what rhymes with life

©5/04/07Terry Sutherland

Sans Peur

Terry

Graphic by Trevor Goodwin

Background sequence by Billy Powell