the arthritis of thought

the arthritis of thought,

as what were leaps and bounds,

eventually become murmurs and stutters.

forgetfulness just stands blankly there.

thought becomes habitually a reoccurrencing,

a form of spellbound without a true destination,

where think-great-thoughts

has to have an audience of readied naivety.

thought is like the zoo for inquiry,

curious and ingenious make for show. 

but thought is just a caretaker at that point.

the registry of thought seems never in question.

repetition, as a thought means, is grounds for arthritis.

thought is just a sightseer,

a vacationer, on leave to travel as a tourist.

what it gets in return is confirmation blather. 

recognition will see to that.

all thoughtform discovery is functional wardrobe add-ons.

a new thought is just the same thought as style,

but filled with a new array of differences.

the convention of how thought works

and what thought actually is, 

exists as a given.

by the way thought works,

all of experience has to come to us, 

as we are audience in that way.

thought is therefore our obvious mentor.

we have no other concept for thought

than thought, thought that way.

how can we say anything but what we say?

what leap would we get

if not thought endowed?

what are those prohibitive rules 

that thought, though unspoken, vitally engenders?

thought seems not to be able to speak about itself.

to take up a transformational cause

beyond what thought would kindly have 

thought about itself.

is there any critical mind to thought self-rendered?

thought, over time, has itself as arthritis ongoing.

we have painful thoughts in repetition aching,

where memory represent a soreness of being.

it seems really hard, 

after a lifetime of dedication to thought-learning,

to imagine another means of awareness existence.

does mind possess any other kind of right livelihood?

thought is so rightfully suppositional in its eagerness.

it's hard to mindfully catch another anything edgewise

that thought doesn't immediately capture and run.

if thought was the news desk responding,

who of me or of us is more of making the news,

before thought is readily reporting?

does anything consciously happen

that is not thought stolen to keep the narrative alive?

it seems my life is an imminent story, 

read to me by thought 

and I never leave the listening room.

yet part of me wants to go out and play,

a part of me that doesn't have or want self as audience.

I'd rather be a fire hydrant on full blast,

careless about volume or outcome,

possibly interested in liquidity and blast.

I'd rather be the wind in a scurry

and not know what my reason for flight

or the location of the dance-floor I am on.

I'd rather lose the capacity 

to have mindful conclusions

and just be kinetic 

beyond what recognition offers as feedback.

so I'm just saying

thought gets arthritic 

and consciousness, thought provoked 

is debilitating . . .