Stew, 5/14/2015, Deon Mumple
I sit and spin, on this cosmic plate
The solar winds irradiate
Like beef stew left in a microwave
People only think I am brave
I put a face on, hiding my fear
What the hell am I doing here?
I feel hot, but I am not yet “done”
I’ve got a rhyme, but no reason
I’ve lost myself, but feel very near
My purposes that once were clear
Mysteries. I’m tired, no time to sleep-
Hot soup waiting for God’s spoon. Beep.