ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

Consciousness Floods

Updated on August 17, 2011
by Peddy Clarissa
by Peddy Clarissa | Source

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.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • BeyondMax profile image

      BeyondMax 5 years ago from Sydney, Australia

      Oh my God. It's just beautiful. It's like a saw my whole life flash in front of my eyes... It's deep like no other!

    • japtaker profile image

      Justin Aptaker 5 years ago from United States

      Beautiful and haunting. Voted up.

    • Karen Russell profile image

      Karen Russell 6 years ago

      Powerful Poem!

      Charming in its intro, grappling with reality & concluding with decisiveness, well formed, thanks for sharing, HOtep!

    • tnderhrt23 profile image

      tnderhrt23 6 years ago

      Ben this is a gripping read...I so relate! The following lines particularly hit me: "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."

      Really powerful work! Thank you.

    • Wayne Brown profile image

      Wayne Brown 6 years ago from Texas

      There is much here that speaks to the simple beauty of life contrasted against all that makes it complex and tiresome. You address both ends of the spectrum very well and paint the picture of a body trying to deal with the concepts. All the way through, you build up the coming of the rain. By the time you reach the final paragraphs it is obvious the rain is renewal; a true sense of being alive and feeling the excitement as such. For all the pulling, twisting, and confusion, finally you see that your life is special and it has promise and meaning for the future. I really think that is your vision here. Great stuff, especially from a young mind, Ben. WB

    • The Suburban Poet profile image

      The Suburban Poet 6 years ago from Austin, Texas

      I just enjoy how you can bring life to an otherwise normal day in the country. You borrow the frame of nature and splash within it the color of your deep mind. You are plagued with the gift of perception and we are your beneficiaries....

    • BenWritings profile image

      BenWritings 6 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

      thanks spotlight :]

    • spotlight19 profile image

      Jennifer Pena 6 years ago from California

      This poem is so inspiring it just shows how powerful the human mind really can be great poem!

    • BenWritings profile image

      BenWritings 6 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

      thank you all so much! :]

    • QudsiaP1 profile image

      QudsiaP1 6 years ago

      That is just how it is Ben; for inspiration to come when you least expect and then to overwhelm you till you are engulfed with the desire to write it all down, express it all and do anything to allow those words to come.

    • Cardisa profile image

      Carolee Samuda 6 years ago from Jamaica

      Ben, you have me hooked on your work. Whenever I see your link in my emails, I smile because I know you have something wonderful and powerful in store. You never disappoint my friend.

      Keep rambling too, I like that.

    • Mentalist acer profile image

      Mentalist acer 6 years ago from A Voice in your Mind!

      The secret to the reality of the imperfect Human Construct is to be energized by its challenge....this poem is breath taking Ben.;)

    • profile image

      will345davis 6 years ago

      Wow. Great job. You have an amazing way with words. It was so descriptive that I could envision what you were describing.

    • Nikkij504gurl profile image

      Nikki Wicked 6 years ago from Louisiana

      powerful stuff here benny boy! I loved this one. it is my new fave! the poem and the paragraph at the end, which gives it a more intimate feeling. and deeper meaning. I can see you sitting in your truck looking at the sky and the fences around you, writing from what you see and putting it into what you feel. symbolism of the barbed wires and freedom (or lack thereof), seeing 2 sides to the world, or a side we think we see(want to see) but showing the side that really is. I hope one day the world does change by your hand, or at least by the help of your hand. and many others. perhaps even myself. let the rain wash over everything. and free us. redeem us. so we can truly live.