Thursday, March 23, 2006

An Untitled Poem Written On The "You, Starbucks And Nutrition" Pamphlet. Today.

Unsettled
Empty - a half-drunk decaf latte...
Futile from the start.
No foam.

Energy wanes
Spirit lacks to soar and
cupfulls of rain drench
the wetness of (my)
existence.

Calm quiets me
but roars in the caverns
of my ears.

Soundless.

Yet strangely,
It is all
I hear.

5 comments:

Kelly said...

Must be something in the air Manic... because YES! I am on my period!
Leave it to you to know what really is going on!!!!!

tommy said...

You need to grow a goatee and wear a beret when you recite this poem

her master said...

Okay, I'm a guy. You know what guys are like. And when you mention the "wetness of (your) existence", well, despite the rest of your poem, "strangely, it is all I hear."

[And, obviously, this is someone else who stole lbck's identity just for this single comment on your posting.]

luck's just right before victoria receives e(x)oneration

Dear Jane said...

thanks for checking in.
i'll be fine, but i think i've one upped you on the mental mom-ness, eh?

Manic Mom said...

Kelly--you still blah?

Tommy--I already have a goatee, and I am wearing my black beret. Are you snapping your fingers?

Her master--perv. Ha, but I was thinking the same thing when I wrote those words about my wet existence. BTW, not sure I understand your comment about lbck?

Jane--I hearby crown you more manic than me. Be well.