Nothing Much

i thought that i wrote

a whole poem

about nothing

i thought it would be easy

you see

i cast aside my lame

any silly thoughts of fame

i cracked open my tame

i ransacked my brain

and looked not to take

but to see

squiggles and scratches

bumps and lines

familiar gibberish

scratched in time

words flying around

like a horror movie book

slowly making sentences

if you take the time to look

paragraphs are skulking

in the mire of beyond

afraid of yet attracted to

the subtle call of the song

many works and pieces here

free from the restraint

free from the license

to twist and to taint

i sat there and contemplated

this so called nothing

and found it to be

full to the brim

of nothing

yet...

many words fell around

my senses

then dropped like autumn leaves

into the lines

that formed in my mind

.

and then

that tiny moment

the scratch that starts it all,

the pen hits the page

and in this release

this tiny rage

another part

of the work

begins at the point

of its own creation

another part

of the work

freed from the simulation

so all of this nothing

these zeroes and so

they're all going on the page

every shade every gap every nook

for a page or a file or a book

force fed on the nothing

fires ablaze

freeing the fancy

the shamed and depraved

the page isn't whole

until it’s been cornered

until it’s been marked

successfully covered in words

there's a whole lot of nothing

both out of and within

and this is the way

the way

it is so

cause nothing

aint nothing

aint nothing

you know