This is a time of poetry.
Be Brief, my love.

I will only hear this song one time
before my attention is bought
by another shiny bauble.

I try hard.
Listen closely.

Cling to these words.
A Moment.
A Raft.
On a vast Ocean.

This is a Time of Poetry:

Nothing makes sense anymore.
We are inundated by lies
And whispered half truths.
Words become well versed liars
Music has lost its soul.
And you cannot believe what you see on a screen.
only what you can hold and touch.

Truth is only what is right in front of you.

To avoid the gnattering lies.
Stop listening.
Feel deep down instead.

Destill the truth away from meaningless chatter.
Redact the lies with a black sharpie.

Be left with a few words speaking truth.

This is a time of poetry.

we have forgotten how to write
sentences/fragments.

They tell us what is right.
underlined in red.
the spelling corrected before you type it.

and often it is wrong.

this computer thinking for you.

sometimes I question what I know
and how I know it.

This is a Time of Poetry.

(surely to be continued)