#muddled
when the time is best described as
"the morning muddled middle"
for it is the middle of the night,
and yet,
we have crossed over the midnight divide,
the new day is well commenced,
but the prevailing dark sky says,
not quite yet!
this journey,
from the bed to the head,
is an abbreviated 20 steps,
you fall out of one,
unable to recall,
hours of vivid dreams,
now only scraps of script,
visions, whipped into the void
of the current blanket of a
night cosseting silence
in return for this
adventure travelogue,
you are granted free access to the top of your skull,
where apparently,
a new set, a fresh combo,
has been delivered, not by Amazon
not by messenger, not by the USPS,
but by your own,
fermenting, fermenting, formidable,
yawning
brain cells
and a poem appears,
wholly holy complete
space, typed and neat,
and falls from your lips,
filtered by your eyes
with no hesitation,
"and not a trace of farewell*
and this miracle,
is no miracle at all,
for it is routinized,
a daily occurrence,
the mystery of it
long gone,
The How,
dissipated, disappeared,
and delivered unto
You
your obligation, your need,
your urgent pungent
purging,
is strifeless,
and you owe
but you have no idea
to whom or what
to thank for this
bestowing
is this poem a stowaway?
or did it pay for its passage,
in cash, by credit card,
or barter ?
if by barter,
what did I surrender?
what item or thing of great value did I trade
for this permissive missive
that was created
for the soul purpose,
of being shared?
it's birth was painless,
the cutting of the cord,
was never felt!
and within minutes,
it went from birth to babe,
child to adolescent,
young adult to middle aged,
to now,
a senior senile senatorial
presents itself fully formed,
weaned wise and wizened
and served to you
on white porcelain dishes,
with black cutlery
so fresh, so hot, so new,
that you are the first
or perhaps the last,
even the only
to ever taste it…
I ask for your forgiveness,
though invited
on this journey to this meal
and it's many courses
and its mirrored ball of
disco discourses,
it is signaling,
like a wise fool frantically waving,
enough!
telling you that you
have arrived
at an ending,
that we each name,
Our Destination
so be it
** so be it*
so it be
now a shared property
<>
NML
April 15, 2025
labor commenced
at 2:27 AM
and the poem~baby
with all its limbs, all its senses,
was delivered to you,
its adaptive & adoptive
parents
at 3:22 AM
so good night, good day
and good luck!
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 5:24 PM UTC
take this time to rest in bed
so that tomorrow you can clear your head
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 2:22 PM UTC
I untwisted my brain today
And lay it out on the table in rows
Examined it for kinks
To see what the other thought thinks
To ask it what it knows.
I mushed it back together
But I couldn’t quite remember
What went where, or how it goes….
I squeezed it back in through my nose
And now my thoughts just flow and flow
Part of some muddled, mixed up show
All cause I examined my brain dontcha know.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 10:37 PM UTC
Do I capitalize the g in God?
I guess my answer is self evident
I don't think I need to dot my i's
To receive God's love
But he also wants me to mind my p's and q's
So I can know His word
And understand His scripture
But society's an encryptor
Feeding me tryptophan
Until this cryptogram
Leaves me ******
By turning the Bible into a crossword puzzle
My only chance to prosper is muddled
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 5:00 PM UTC
Is what I breathe really air?,
Or a dust filled with despair?
Is what I hear the sound of a dying steer,
Or just a scream of fear?
I know that it is there,
But don't know exactly where.
I should be unaware,
Until a dream of an heir,
Will be drowned in flares,
Till then,
The one that remains shall care.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 9:07 AM UTC
I am here, waiting patiently for her,
though long time no see
like in ever, like in never,
my absentia, dementia,
both critiques of self-censure,
here, then, my cadenza,
dedicated solely soulfully for you:
as the sabbath sun rises over the East River,
saying, mocking, laughing upon me,
“still here, though long time no see,”
for though I cannot never look upon her as well,
my sun, my sun,
yet she, too is everywhere-inside of me,
woman-sun, both warmly illuminating my muddled mind
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 8:04 AM UTC
Foggy skies lie like a comforting blanket
The one I wrapped myself in at night.
Or an omnipresent, uncomfortable haze.
Like the smoke from your cigarette.
My eyes keep shifting views,
Until my muddled brain can’t handle it.
I’m thinking through your glasses,
Empty, but tequila soaked.
I can’t decide if I miss the sun.
The heat was nice to be sure,
But so many times I was burnt.
My skin charred and red.
You tell me to wear sunscreen.
That way I won’t get hurt,
But no matter how many layers,
The sun keeps marking my skin.
You like the clouds I know.
It’s easier when they hang around.
You hang around like a weight
I wish I were a cloud.
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 9:46 PM UTC
Muddy and muddled
My brain is befuddled
Twisted and bent
Life wasn't heaven sent
Battered and bruised
Only ever been used
Torn and tattered
Now nothing matters
Diced and sliced
By life's ****** knife
Crushed and ground
Nothing to be found
Drowning in pain
Not quite sane
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Muddy and muddled
My brain is befuddled
Twisted and bent
Life wasn't heaven sent
Battered and bruised
Only ever been used
Torn and tattered
Now nothing matters
Diced and sliced
By life's ****** knife
Crushed and ground
No where to be found
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
Feeling numb saying words from the tip of my tongue.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC