Low funding,
yet High in mind
Trace the footsteps in the snow
A subject of the object
Just without comprehension.
Yet that trail we trace,
Ends somewhere under a rainbow,
or perhaps a dark and damp road
"At what cost, is not the cost of what.
However, it must be nothing"
Priceless,
There is no idea finer
Except for the sign in the window,
It was never on
But how ‘bout those odds
They bet to show.
the sign never went on
Another dark Friday, early in the morning
So let’s buy what could otherwise be stolen
“Is that why they’re all angry?”
“No, it’s the sanity that keeps them mad,
It’s the only reason they wait in line”
"So madness keeps us sane?
There is no sense in that."
"Yes, but there is no cents when it comes to sense."
Ahh, Priceless
But why the lack of self- worth?
Well it's all worth while, don't ya think?
Something must be worth something, even if it's nothing
then what is priceless,
it's nothing
nothing but an idea
The concept for those in spirits,
Who attempt to drown it all out.
Drown out the noise of that treacherous question?
“Excuse me! Is this on sale?”
TQS
stumpedwise.
Tag: Poetry
Measure
the fiend fiends,
an expected pleasure
tempted for joy
in excessive measure
TQS
stumpedwise.
I
I’ve floated here for far too long
gazing upon many other pools
but here I remain
Hands like raisins
that make me believe I have better grip.
Until a sweeping view inside of my head
reminds me again
It’s just figment after figment.
Anything but.
Not just going to bed,
But falling to sleep.
With the others who talk fast
and think slow.
And soon enough
Lungs like fishbowls.
~Lex Ihnk~
stumpedwise.
stumpedwise.com 