Hello all,
I took a break from serious poetry and wrote something silly about my cyclical thoughts and I named it something interesting-sounding for effect. I hope it worked. Anyway, I had fun with this but later this week, because I am off all week, I will post another poem, this time a PROSE POEM–my favorite–and I hope you all will enjoy it as well; it’s a topic that’s from maybe a new angle to you all but has been on my mind for a while. Anyway, let me know what you think about this poem, if you decide to read it.
Ouroboros
I’m obsessively and compulsively disorderly
And that’s ordinarily--my sanity is scarily
Thin, my fragile cranium is carpe diem
In the worst way because I am my own prey,
Premeditating the act of not medicating because
I am investigating if it’ll really make me more
Creative, or innovative, something that is
Native and natural, but to be factual,
I’m now regretting obviously forgetting that
My mind is mined by the grind of scripts, fits,
Poetry bits--my mind reminds me I’m unnatural:
My scripts are irrational, my levels of panic are
Impractical and I can’t take a sabbatical,
Even from writing because that’s inviting
Intrusive interests intent on my destruction--
Often accompanied by specific instruction
To dismantle the ego, ergo that’s the vertigo
I feel, writing this.
Jogging the Mind 