UPON MY THINKING LESS

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JOURNAL #28

sanity is

a canvas lined in checkered folly

a gasoline rainbow running from a well lit match

down a corridor filled with screams and smoke

canaries of all beautiful colors

tirelessly hunting down all the vultures of wounded insight

just to teach them their lessons before dying

looking beneath the great blood sponge of gray matter

and seeing for the first time the crossbeams that support

hindsight's heaviest trussles

to quote Gertrude Stein

THERE IS NO THERE, THERE!

for today shouts too softly for tomorrow to hear

and tomorrow herself lacks the bravery to correct the

oversight of the true embodiment that is this sanity

of reconstructed life

whether its one painful or painless shred at a time

so in this personal effect

its POETRY

that must muscle in to extort

some sense of saneness

from each frame of events

Feb 21,2003(1am)

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pudnsis1's picture

Ah, so true. Who is sane? What is it real or surreal?
I enjoyed every written word of you pen.
Thanks for being here and sharing. Hope to see you again soon.
Love, peace, freedom. Godspeed,
Linda
www.poeticarts.net

allets's picture

Poetry Muscles In

I was just turning 53 when this was written (02-21-50). I like the action of poetry here. Well said. - slc