Archive for stream of consciousness

Wash your Hands

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2016 by bigtuna185


All we are is mud and I don’t always feel dirty

With the caked dirt falling from off of my hands

I am falling off of myself

Every day rising out of filth is a new day to wash myself

I am a part of the earth and the earth is in me

Pushing me out of my cocoon

Metamorphosis ripping the old me to shreds

Organs and bones shifting

My exoskeleton keeping me from harm

Please don’t touch my wings for I want to fly someday

Soaring over mountains and valleys and landfills and sumps

Rolling around the grass with childlike ignorance of all that is coming

What is coming, I don’t know

But they’ve told me it’s bad

Unless you’re good

Then it’s good

But there’s no measurement of good to keep you from the bad

And of course I am dirty and so I don’t want to be dirty when the bad things

Wait, I mean the good things, come my way

And it’s so hard to be clean when everyone else doesn’t want to be clean

The faucet is drip drip dripping down the drain

Keeping me awake at night and I can hear humanity drowning drop by drop

And all I can think about is the mud on my hands and the blood in my veins

And the blood on my hands and the mud in my veins

Because you can’t escape the curse of your ancestry and so we would all be doomed

If it wasn’t for His blood shed for my muddled affairs

We are all blind as the clay has hardened around our eyes

We try to mold our own destiny and shape our lives the way we think is best

But we have cut off our own hands

And we have no feeling

So we die


Hearing Impaired

Posted in Poetry, Random Thoughts with tags , , , , , , on September 29, 2015 by bigtuna185

I am trapped inside of a fishbowl
Gazing at the onlookers who

Point and tap the glass

Speaking with their droning

Peanuts adult blare of a voice 

And I strain to hear and listen and pretend 

That I understand exactly what they’re saying

Any remedy to rid my head of this ache

To relieve my ears’ percussion section of swelling

A crescendo that won’t decrease

Has resulted in a refrain

While I wish it would refrain 

Still I sit and anxiously pat out beats on my lap

Impatiently waiting for my hearing to go back to normal

Arms waving and flailing underwater

Deep sea diving inside my own head

My own thoughts echoing all the louder

As my voice is muffled in vain

Congested mind, confesséd soul

If only my mind and body were whole