note* there are a ton of misspellings and typos... please bear with it..
i wrote this a few years ago


this poem is about nothing
nothing is more beautiful nothing
the serenity of the silence nothing makes in the breeze
the light loose lingering feeling you get when nothing leaves

some people think that nothing isnt anything
but there just pessimist
because nothing is really somthing
just ask a nonconformist
and sometimes somthings are meant to mean nothing
but they do
do u get the jist

not many people can write about nothing
but i can

see ?

some of my favorite memories
happen when i m swinging on a swing on long tall trees
as i swing i sing about nothing cuz that my favorite subject
but nothing has no lyrics as you'd expect

ever since i was wee little lad
nothing was good and nothing was ever bad
i m never happy i m never sad
never led a group but never followed a fad
never was rusted but never iron clad
nothing made me satisfied, nothing made me glad

when something hard is over i feel relieved
but its shortlived and soon i m decieved
the system failed me i once believed
but i guess its me thats a failure cuz i cant succeed
i wish lifes answers were written on my hands and its solutions on my sleeves
but no one knows, just ask jeeves

in the words of aristotle " uhhhh..... "
and in the words of socrates " hmmmmmm ...... "
democrities, aristophanies " i dunno........ "
we all have holes in our philosophies

nothing irratates me more than a hippocrit
but i feel as if i m the biggest one
and nothing negates me more than my own words
all these false pretences and fake rewards

and here i go, on and on about nothing
see , i could pick a normal subject and write pretty words about it
but what kind of poetry would that be
thats why i write as i go along
because nothing makes me happy
and as i go i make my own ryhme scheme
suprisingly thats what it might be
seems to me
like my mind is flooded like lights on highbeams

cuz i say ... why make sence?
i cant even complete a sentence
thats why i say nothing at all
or speak in broken fragments

nothing is a noun but is it a person place or thing ?
i wouldnt know how i d draw it in pictionary
nothing is something that doesnt exist
according to the dictionary
but i see nothing as a verb
which may be perlexing
and i see it as an adjective
seeming equally complexing
does this have a point ?
its a point of expressing
a point pointing to a depression
expecting express _expression
to point to a certain succession

sometimes my lines ryhme and sometimes they go awry
theres a fine line between that and what i write as i lie
the truth is the one we know we'll dispise
so it remains hidden as the we go on with our lives

we live in the lime light and hide when the suns shining
who thinks parental walls hide whats under the lining
my mind is not blind, whats the point in confining
the thruth is right there in front of us , its not like mining

nothing is like str`oke of genius but its more liek a flash of lightning
nothing is intelligent and brilliance is frightening
son, the morning sun rises the day is brightening
yet ignorance is darkness and its bliss is enlightening

i hope one day some one will analyze this ryhme
and pick out things i ve said
far deeper than i ment them
but that wont happen till after i m dead
that way when their absolute wrong
no ones there to help the ones they've misled

do u not honestly see my alliterating assonance
the confusing catastrophic clouds colliding underneath the surface
my smile is like my sight see my simile
theres almost a zillion letters in the ryhme and thats no hyperbole

one step. off one second. behind first ?no! one does care
one step off. one second behind first. no one does care
who cares about silver and who cares about gold?
who cares about the original when every story has been retold
half of this wont mean anything when I'm old

in a world where everything is symbolic of something else
open your eyes.... what does nothing symbolize

they ll say no no your just an alcoholic
i ll tell them how nothing is symbolic
and they would say that this poem isnt even good
its not even half a path diverged in a yellow wood

but i guess to be great is to be misunderstood
so said emerson
and i d try to explain it ........if i could ....
but who am i foolin son

and more time would pass
a lot more nothing will elaspe
bridges fall and walls collapse
maybe i should stop now
maybe i should end it now
take nothing and befriend it somehow

some say nothing lasts forever
but nothing has no end so it ll go on forever
or maybe its has yet to begin
but in the end it ll be the same place it started
right in the middle of things

i ve learned that
nothing is free
nothing isn't fair
nothing doenst care
and neighter do i