As these words that usually come so easy now leave me in slack
This distilled mind
Failing at its expression–its prose leading me one way –a poems misdirection
This stunned reception–(reflection) ?
“I swear to Bob Dillan, I can write about anything–in any way. This closed mind is so absent to the accent of art and its eccentric spirit. So how would i make of it? I question my writings as i continue with this ‘froze’. nothing coming naturally to mind except the vibe to flow a line as ‘rappers’ do–so in turn i PROSE; this unusual poetry of mine as a nothing sums up to define; these absent words.”
Im not a rapper–i Poet:
Enjoying the art of literature without the need to entertain or seek the attention of—-these ill mannered “beings”
This internal “Miss” looking in as a need of direction
One who is unsure of self
So, “what would you do if….?”
All these extraordinary theories as if I were somebody else…maybe “her”?
I am slow to realize being indigenous is not understood. It’s mocked–the tradition, gender– life. All those who have read “history” books will claim to understand. This said, panic–reaction to be more alike, to “get to know”, will make one feel like a personal science project.
Imagine that–could it be possible to have an open mind to such?
–asking for self; as I am majority of the time thinking for this said, someone else.
This inability –to do things because of…
they’re stubborn and lack the mental capacity to adjust—
this agitation of mine–constant hackings of my mind
Seeking for answers you’ve received—
The answers you seek I’ve given…don’t be a burden by trying to live your life through me.
I wonder what happened to–what is the word i’m thinking of?
This distance i keep to void this–break
The continuous breaking of pieces, so ugly
Heart i mined–at least for keeping a sake
This me–the Pride you see
do you see–
I wonder too, of all the things that got a way from me.
Knowing what we want; going for what we can have. All things are possible–however, we make it that way. So if anything ever stops, it may have never been pursued. If anything ever stops, it may be whatever caused it to. If nothing ever stops–it must have never been intended to.
Speaking for self: a need for something, over powers all.