What's going on around here?
Everyone is looking like they're gone
is mine the only mind that's clear?
Something seems completely wrong
so, maybe I should put my glasses on
And look at things a little better
There's something very strange going down
And I'll probably be the last to know
it seems that's the way news gets around
The speed it travels to me is slow
well, maybe I should dam the flow
And find out which side's wetter
Why do people move so fast?
I have an envelope, paper and pen
And postage stamp, my very last
A woman just left with two other men
So, Maybe I should think again
About the chance I have to get her
Is there something I've not been told?
Such curiosity, confusion instills
"Return to sender," written in bold
Or the ever-present demanding bills
so, maybe I should use my writing skills
And send myself a pleasant letter
I wrote this late one night in the computer lab. These are the kind of
poems I love to write. Better, wetter, get her, and letter. It's weird because
I didn't even intend for the last line to rhyme with each other. It just
happened that I put "better" and "wetter." So I figured, cool, I'll do the same
with the next ones. The title refers to the 24 lines in the poem. And it's
just a big confusing mess fitted into these 24 lines, but there's always more
to be said. In this case, they are left unsaid. Or silent.
Email: rwainio@nmu.edu