Thinking Box Blues
Thoughts gurgle
as my mind grows weary,
sifting through a sea of words.
A philosophical frenzy
of manic-frantic phrases
dismembered thoughts
once all contained neatly
in a thinking smart box...
It seems somehow
this box was rattled,
in fact, quite shaken.
Leaving me with
heavy heaps of
weakened words;
a thoughtless mess...
Searching for infinity
in a space confined by finite.
A means by which to solidify
the imagined intangible.
With brain’s belongings
in morbid confusion,
I’m afraid fleeting remains absent;
glazed unseening
silent density
numbly naive...
This box must be restored
to its prior version
and mildly maintained
with mannered madness
allowing words to be painlessly grasped;
thoughts diligently distinguished.
Unclogging stale restriction
resistance lessens, once again
to articulate messages
from another time, another place
an entirely different realm...
Every chipped word
all busted thought salvaged
I used to stitch this free verse.
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