Wandering: a poem

Nine billion people wand’ring aroundSearching for answers that can’t be foundDoes it ever start to make any sense?Should we just throw away the whole pretense? Nine million species throughout the biosphereYet only one questioning why it’s hereDid something go wrong?

Random Rush: a poem

Thank God I’ve never been diagnosedWith that weird bipolar thingCourse I behave the same as mostEveryone gets that fuzzy feelingOn the top of their brainWhen they’re feeling goodCan’t even remember painAnd even if I could,I don’t think I’d stopListenin’ to those same old groovesClassic rock, funk, and popYou know I still got the movesSome ofContinue reading “Random Rush: a poem”