I Am Almost As Surprised As You Are

by: Rob Paquin

Poems or poetry?
Creative works or just drivel?
Rhymes or just words,
That come out in a swivel?

Entertaining or not,
I'll probably keep typing.
Typing out words.
Faster than lightning.

I'm not sure why it happens?
I'm not sure how it lands?
Inside an imperfect medium,
Where I have nothing planned.

I just sit here and start tapping,
my middle fingers on keys.
I type 114 words a minute.
And I do it with ease!

And the words keep on flowing,
from my fingertips.
And the rhymes in my head...,
Well, they never do quit.

But there's cadence and relevance
There's the way it all clicks.
So, I type it all out,
and just hope that it sticks.

I spiral - Not viral
And I am just as surprised
By the words that i type
When I read with my eyes

I wonder sometimes,
Where all the words come from?
Did I make them myself?
Should I take all of the blame on?

Should I just sit here and type?
Or should I do something else?
Is this cathodically healthy?
Or am I just losing myself?

I went for a walk,
Just the other day.
I was there all alone.
And had nothing to say.

But inside my mind,
The rhymes kept pouring out.
Words upon words,
Of which I kept to myself.

But if I had a keyboard,
while I was there walking,
I would have typed some nice rhymes,
without ever talking.

A long time ago,
I argued with Her.
And inside of my head,
There was rhyming inferred.

But I knew better then,
To not argue in rhymes.
Because rhymes are imperfect,
and they're never on time.

But yeah, that's my problem.
One I should probably, correct?
But if you read this whole poem.
then you probably respect?

And, I have no idea,
why I first started to type?
But it's getting late,
I should just say good night...

~The Snowdog