Mind Flow
Sometimes there comes upon me
The desire to spill words from my lips
An aching and a sad debating for myself
To be heard.
I want you to know that I try my very best
To use "Proper grammar,
Good diction, appropriate spelling, and correct writing techniques"
But sometimes I fear the language, sentences, and volumes
That find their way into my chest, beneath my ribs and under my lungs
Must force their way out. "Make us known,"
They scream, echoing into the pale blue sky
Which is too kind for the thoughts which weigh upon my soul.
I must confess that this poem has no forethought,
No planning, and no plot.
I fear the end is unknown to me, and I shall soon find out
If my free verse will measure up.
Today I had a very honest conversation
With what I must now notice, is one of my oldest friends.
The speech was interesting, but what mattered more
Was the friendship that I believe brought us both to our hypothetical knees
In the realization that we were, indeed, friends.
Now, I know that I tend to overthink, but the purpose of this little exercise
Is to deal with that. Recently I discovered a lovely process
Called brain dumping. I fear I must find a less contemptuous name...
I think mind flow may be more lovely a title
For such a dandy practice.
I hope I have not bored you, yet,
As my rambling and rumbling wears on.
However, to the faithful few who still read, I congratulate you
For making it to the end, which was, moments ago, to me,
Unknown.