The side that everyone refuses to acknowledge. Why? Don't ask me. I feel like I will be writing forever. Little keywords. Triggers. Over and over and over again.
Actually triggered by my semi-nervous breakdown last night.
The THOUGHTS.
Cold like machinery.
And not.
Blue steel and tones of red.
Flaxen hues among the engines.
They come. Invite in the gold
Comes the grey
They don’t stop. A dam
Unleashed
Once and never stopped.
But it only takes a finger.
Invading. Invading thoughts.
Think once and get a million.
Radial ideas that
Come back to the starting point
But in a different plane.
Branching.
So many, thousands, branching.
As ifs
What ifs
And then
That reminds me...
Cortexes and synapses firing
Shooting hundreds and more
Down tiny alleys of electricity.
The brain works on a series of
Mental stimuli that trigger the next
Reaction. You never stop. We never stop.
As a race we’ve forgotten, though.
What it is to think.
Irritating
Insanity
Irking ideas ignored once and resurfacing.
Refuse to silence. Always speaking.
Always thinking.
Always running and firing and shooting and branching.
ALWAYS REMINDING. Something else to ponder.
Stop considering
For once.
Too busy
Tumultuous
Can’t stop
Ever
Because if we stop it’s over
And maybe we forget. Forget what it is
To live
They won’t be calm. Fitful impulses.
Must attend to them all.
Too hard! Exploding.
Silence them.
Reasoning and rationalising. To me.
Reasoning and rationalising to their Originator.
Don’t I know these things?
Yes. No.
I did. But they force themselves into the light of existence.
Over and over. They won’t shut up.
They invade.
You invite the drop to keep a moist tongue and drown in the downpour.
Word associations
And games. Stop it. They don’t. It’s subconscious.
UNconscious in new days. None of the new
Culture understands. Immersed in a sea of violence and hatred and media-glutting
Savages. Hate it. No thought anymore; no nothing.
We sit, pandering to the electric current flowing through the walls
Not the brain.
But the subconscious were never meant to be waking, either.
There are too many
Too many to count, too many too listen to.
Going mad? Just curious
Wondering
Awefilled
Watching everything
That’s too much, though.
You can’t have it.
It is said that man utilises one-tenth of his brain power. I believe it. When those processes
Normally consumed by the remaining
Subconscious!
Unconscious.
SURFACE
Try to make their identity in the world of natural chemical electricity.
Bits of data.
Imprinted.
Not waves. Not energy.
Immortalised for an infintesimal second.
There, lived forever, and gone.
What?
It makes no sense.
Little ever does.
Not altered or changed but raw thought processes.
Just pieces encoded with hormones.
Emotions are just chemicals.
Seratonin
And they are ensnaring.
Try to manipulate them and you risk.
Trying to play God.
Manufactured bliss is deadly.
It’s not physically there now
But it is present.
Television and media. Too many.
But maybe they block it.
That preceded the technology to tell the used capacity of the human mind.
Maybe it wasn’t always so.
What we look down on as uncivilised or unadvanced
May be a sign that we devolve.
Instincts. Not cultured or manufactured. Not honed.
But in everything that is refined it loses itself.
We are the white bread existence.
Processed!
And it’s not that we fight and fail.
Knowing the true cause of battle is the victory.
But they don’t know.
Watching a movie.
COLD METAL.
Invite the flaxen hues of rest! Come forth the deluge of engines and warped
Being. You are pretty. You are not. You are popular. You are smart.
They don’t realise it.
Playing God again.
Determining what the order of things is.
And the thoughts are still there.
You think of one and they keep coming.
Round and round but never reaching the same point twice.
Not insanity.
Seeing the big picture
But seeing an inch only.
Not understanding any of it.
Saying you do.
The moment you profess to know a thing is the moment you lose it.
Jargon-eating and cliche-bending.
You are as smart as you think
If you don’t think
But never as wise.
A self-promoting sage is a liar and a thief
Stealing a name and a label of what is true wisdom.
They all claim to be God
They act it, the role,
Until the curtain rises
And they see the faces staring.
They begin to see what they are but refuse it
They all are mimickers and decievers.
Gods with stage fright.
Too many thoughts rushing again.
Things I don’t want to know.
I don’t remember remembering them.
Do I forget the thing that reminds, or is it
Just madness?
Others I do know, but
Would rather not.
The diabetic man who saved ninety dollars.
His co-payment was only twenty
And he had a generous nurse.
He said he’d made the ninety dollars
But he didn’t really.
It wasn’t given to him
If he had paid and recieved again it would be
Different.
But he didn’t. So he didn’t earn an income
He just saved money.
It doesn’t make sense.
Why did he say that? I don’t know
If it was simply a human error
He was bragging about it
This diabetic man at a buffet.
Ironic
But I don’t want to remember these things.
Strange lapses.
Sometimes it’s there. A bit much. But calm
And then it’s overwhelming.
The man was wrong!
A stupid instance
He doesn’t remember, probably
But I did. And I can’t stand it
Stop!
Shut up.
Some peace.
Do not disturb the disturbed.
I’m tired of word associations,
But they can’t be helped.
For ever word in every song and every spark in every shadow I know
THEY
WILL
NOT
BE
SILENT
.
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'Ello
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