Walking the Talking

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Empty Pockets full of Dreams

Submitted: February 05, 2011

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Submitted: February 05, 2011

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Since when most people claim to be teachers,

professors, the all knowing gods.

Knowledge sucked up out of a TV,

the real good ones sometimes even out of books?

Never had a good thought on their own but

hey, they are always right.

Not able to pee against the wind but

knowing all the worlds problems solutions.

An oppinion on everything.

Trying to poison the rest of us with their insights.

Their knowledge,

their being right.

Too many knowing too much.

Too few knowing that they know nothing.

At least nothing really important.

I´m one of those nothing knowers,

being one step ahead of the all knowing machine.

Is it worth it, not knowing, not claiming?

Is it worth the ulcer, the children you don´t see, this lonelyness?

This not being part of the mingling assholes fucking each other?

I still think it is,

that´s why I still keep going on,

that´s why I still fight on,

that´s why I still shout.

I´m shouting through letters,

but if you give me a microphone,

I´ll let them know

and I´m not afraid to show,

your ugly truth,

that you know shit,

I know nothing,

what´s better?

Nothing or Shit?

Talking.

Walking,

just believe me.

I´m better in it.


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