Consciousness Floods

I originally wrote the first section as stream of consciousness while I was sitting in my work truck, looking at the beautiful scene that surrounded me. It progressed into something I didn't plan on, but I just went with it, then later revised it into a poem.

The second section, in paragraph form, was just me rambling :]

Surrounded by fences

wrapped in menacing spirals

of barbed wire and lost freedom,

they dare us to enter,

or even to attempt

an exit or escape…

The engine idles, and

cool air brushes my face,

relieving me of the outside heat.

Puffs of gleaming white,

trimmed by glaring bright,

but filled with darkening centers,

are floating, changing,

and shaping, overhead.

Beyond the gates,

in every direction,

flooding my view,

are walls of green,

in every shade, dark and light.

Foothills, rich in color,

ever crawling with life.

Cumulus clouds, softly swirling,

graceful, skimming the peaks.

My sadness has vacated,

for the time being,

as the substance inside me,

digesting, is peaking.

The daylight is young.

They say likewise, my body,

but my youth is only a memory,

depleting and faint.

Within my veins, rust is forming.

Beneath the foundations of my soul,

cracks are creeping, increasing.

I was born into my mother’s sweet arms,

and she bestowed to me only love,

but as days and nights passed,

living this life,

learning my lessons,

breathing my breaths,

longing for death,

the cares of this world,

to me now, mean nothing.

I see, and I’ve seen,

the truth, so unsettling.

My heart‘s beat is speeding,

to keep up with my mind’s

perceptions of reality,

which are fooled by my eyes,

which take in the sights;

these illusions of beauty

they thought they could find.

Heat waves, mirages,

they rise from the ground.

Cries from the past,

to the present, resound.

These thoughts speak of deepness,

so shallow, so simple.

These visions, so full,

yet so hollow, they cripple.

Riding back to the place

that I sadly call home,

my eyes begin to blur

at the repetitive road.

Lines, yellow,

spotted, and solid,

on endless stretches

of mans’ faulty making…

The day is so quickly

becoming so tiresome,

and the sun’s daily journey

has progressed around the globe.

We want to believe that the sun

rises and sets just for us.

We desire to think that

we’re rock solid in space,

but the sun knows not

that we even exist,

nor would our passing

mean two shits to it.

It’s sad how my workday consists,

of ceaselessly thinking,

I cannot resist

to ponder this nightmare,

though lovely it is,

nor can I bear for a moment…

to sit, see, or hear,

to smell, or feel, or touch,

to breathe, or bleed, or feed,

without my heart crying out

so loudly to me…

Truthfully, I accept,

but refuse to believe.

The world will change,

by my hand…one day.

----------------

I enter my mind, and look to the sky. My inner world is far from well-constructed, and the voices from every direction seem to have no pattern. The clouds above are brewing, as a pot ready to hiss, thus they swirl into dark patterns, growing shapelessly into whatever I see fit. The first drop hits me just below my eye and burns me to the core, but the sting excites me. The droplets begin to pour, swarming my instincts with fire and ice ideals forged from the Heavens and the Earth. Let me be what I always wanted to be, let me fly over the tops of these walls, let me look down upon a world I choose to forget. My feathers are soaked, but I won't let that stop me. My wings ignite, turning water to vapor, and the steam forms new clouds, joining the others. Turmoil is a crazy thing, it tugs on your soul, left and then right. It speaks, then whispers, then screams, all before it becomes silent before the storm.

It rains, it pours, power grows, I know this is it, I know I have decisions to make, lives to take, including my own, I know these thoughts cannot be my own. They're too dark and revolting, too frigid and blazing. The rain that surrounds me cannot be defeated, so I must accept it, and ask it to cleanse me, erase me, in a flood of redemption.