Imagination Plague

One minute is an analytical monsoon
there is nothing little
about what I know.
It grows heavy on my head
like a lead helmet,
weighting me far from familiarity,
like the distance I feel
when I am in a group of people
and they say “hey, what you doin?”
And I reply back “huh, oh, nothin, really, how are you?”
Hard for me to resist that next
rocket ride to those distant stars.
If my life could only be so simple,
I would just be a daisy in a meadow,
a scallop shell beached by storm waves,
discovered by some kid playing in the sand,
or the next $1.99 retail fad.
But I am fascinated with everything,
I know there is more…
Intangible tempest of thoughts,
taking me away to that imagination Imax,
creative virtuosity sifting fantasy, dreams, ideals, truths…
Most folks have no idea where I really am,
they just see my face smiling back —
But really, I am in it with pick and shovel
searching for words to write it down.
If I don’t suit those thoughts with words,
they leave without notice,
pureed in the blender of myriad wonder,
never to return exactly the same again.
Than all those would-be readers,
would be left, presupposing
“whatever was he thinking?”!

2 responses

    • Commented on your blog post. — Not only was I on the moon, we went to Mars, Venus, Pluto (Was very dark there). I am not sure why I didnt have imaginary friends. Perhaps because I had 7 half brothers and sisters. I am thinking I never had time nor need to create such a friend. I might have done better to do so, perhaps it would have helped to cope with some of the insanity that plagued my world back then.

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