What Do I Do With My Words

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What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune

I’m Seeking A Truth

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I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words

My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move

Typing on this old handmedown machine to transform

My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove

I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul

There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes

Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains

Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope