Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2012
In times when the heart is lodged
somewhere between the brain and the throat
I try to force it back
down to its chambers, before I choke,
or before it strangles my head's precious, antagonized gland.

There's only one way to avoid
certain tragedy, and that's to look, feel, taste.
It's either make mental tracks-
run and jump- or drown.

It's at these moments when I start
playing tricks on my mind.
Doing this is easier than you may think.
Just stop all thought,
for the mind's constant churning
chafes the heart.

Now, allow your hungry eyes to sidle
to and fro- let them wander-
dare to wonder about what hasn't,
but don't idle even for a minute
on what has, or what couldn't.

As long as you can avoid relapse,
you might even venture into what could,
as long as it's new and fresh.
As long as it isn't some woeful inquiry
growing stale since last night.

Then once you find yourself daydreaming,
or better yet, DOING,
you are halfway there.
You've made it uphill
and only need to coast down-
down the lovely unkempt *****
of impulse without crashing.

Do something new,
preferrably silly- stay
away from dangerous-
go somewhere new,
talk to a stranger,
eat something expensive,
drink a little, burp loudly.

Go wild, steer away from crazy,
but cruise through hilarity.
Bombard yourself with creative juices,
**** your phone,
bury your watch,
put on your shoes and let yourself laugh.

Once you've had some laughs,
cue up some Planet Earth
-Kung Fu's good too-
roll a joint.
Smoke it.
Grab a pizza,
fall asleep with the television on
then wake up with a smile on your face.
Trust me, it won't come off in the shower,
and trust me your heart's ok.
You're gonna be just fine.
Written by
SWB
980
   Joan Karcher, ---, --- and Odi
Please log in to view and add comments on poems