All is left to Slate

This is a pome about slate.

It's too much

It's too late

It's just gray

And it's slate

I can't find the time

to make everything straight

If my pencil's pull down

on perfect white paper

then I can't find the words

to say what come later

now it's not ready

now it's not clear

how to say what I say

without having much fear

And when you're down

how can anyone hear

if you can say the words

of what makes your skin sear

then I'll go out to the dark

where everything's near

I find myself thinking

Just walking through the park

Because it's too gone

it's too late

it's all gray

it's all slate

Reviews

[Robert Robbie Lord Dudl..]

Don't be bothered just read and write
The stuff works use your heart, The head is for thinking into it later
Good poem still and deep.

[CLR9]

I f*****g rule, and did I mention I am a poetic genius?

[Robert Robbie Lord Dudley]

Words make the paints dull I don't decide what's cool or considerable I'm submerged and am safe in water, that my poetic scheme stick to yours my feet are tired for my dreams