Routine

So much to do this day
yet first I write a verse
because I have to
I wish I could say
it was a release
to transcend mediocrity
the daily grind
the demands of living.

But its not
I do it...
because I said I would.

Map

A million things to do
and I write poems
not for you
but for me
to teach me how to talk
what I am
where my dreams lay down
to sleep and dream themselves.

A map guides my feet
with roads
an contour
but what guides my heart?

A Rhyming One Today

I've caught the word
that people think
My poems I cannot rhyme.

So I respond
with verses sweet
To quiet those that snide.

The truth be told
In lyrics I
Began my first attempt

At forcing thoughts
to fit the mold
of grammar so unkempt.

We squeeze them yes,
these verbal queues,
to end with sounds the same.

I can do that
I will indeed
It's just a game to participate in.

The non-rhyming ones are just so much cooler sometimes.

The End

Some say
that the universe began with a silent BOOM!
And that it grew and grew
as stars gave birth
and planets hosted weeping masses
who lived and died a billion times
unaware that all was growing smaller
and smaller
the whole unable to support eternal expansion
and so it draws itself in
like a rotting apple
slowly
until a silent crunch

Will that be how it ends?