I have amelioration
as a sick mind process.
It is flawed
towards an uncommon focus.
Self improvised bludgeoning
provides uncalled for
uplifting visions.
The incessancy of this and
the inner dialogue said to me,
makes for words to camp out,
becoming repetitious phrases
until they are written down.
Literacy, to put it in print,
is passing towards
the death of that thought.
We all wordy splash.
We’re knee deep in it.
Our mouth utterances
are spraying in circles,
while we vocally splatter
here, there and aside.
I only wish to reclaim
that trampled water-spray
of meaning that we continually
yet inadvertently sip
with an upper spiral mentality.
Everyone inside me laughs
at that, but I attend to
tomorrow's written delivery
as yesterday’s activity of attention.
No one inside me claims ownership
after its arrival.
There are irrational gaps
as spaces in my mind
filled with apparent rationalizations
about all of this.
These ornate gift-wrappings,
put into tie-bows of words,
are sometimes caught up
in my mind-view.
They are said to me
until I get them to come out.
While I am like that,
I easily assume
I am in a room
otherwise filled with silence.
Well, we as distinct mind voices
all together, share
in the same pretense.
That is to say,
that as a meditation,
it is punctuated with
other parts of me,
whom I assume
are in silence also.
Sometimes when there,
windswept emotional waves,
are weeping
into these word documents,
which is, for some,
as eventual readers,
like waiting for the laps
from the tied, beautifully
to buoyantly come,
as any wash-over of the mind
has the refreshment potential
to be an awakening . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment