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Waiting is been |
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Waiting for a word |
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I Never heard |
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A word that lie in |
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between the lines |
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Of a poem that died |
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Seconds before it materialized |
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Like a foreign sound from |
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An unknown town |
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-it makes the earth go 'round and |
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around |
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A chair in her room was a tower |
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From where she was watching |
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She peeled through the window |
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And spinned |
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Opened the door, said; |
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Come inside |
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Do you see what you like |
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Do you like what you see |
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Do you see what you like |
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Do you like what you see |
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Come walk with me for a while |
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My child |
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There's a word I have heard |
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And it's deeply absurd |
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-The rhythm among you and the |
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rhythm within, have traveled 'long |
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the same road while you've |
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wondered where you've been. |
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The seed of an old star |
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Is the beat of a new |
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The stones you choose to turn |
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Holds the one's the karma about you earn |
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And if boredom is joy, you're a |
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Stranger - a toy in |
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the hands of the few |
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Of the one's you once knew |
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If it's all just a game- |
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Every day remains the same |
