Sometimes i don't know what to think
so i don't, i just feel
so hard for me to differentiate
my waking dreams from what is real
other times i have to into my own world steal
and hide away, find the time to play
with the balls of my own confusion
no conclusions to this experiment
can make for quite the predicament
don't think the medication or the meditaions
will cause my consternation to relent
but at least i still feel....
Back into my corner
the hippie Jack Horner,
with no pie or plum
so here sit i, twiddling my thumb
waiting for something
or is it someone?
my poems flow from me rather quickly... ususlly done within 10 minutes or less... not bragging just trying to let you know my creative process (for lack of a better word) i write until it looks done - if i lose my "inspiration" i just go back and reread and by the time i get to last line the newest one pops up... peace
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