Sailing through a stream of conscience,
gliding gently over this reflective surface
paddling with a shovel, to unearth
all my past whispers and future promises.
I am to myself on this journey, seated
on the crafted bark of a fallen great Oak.
Gaze at the sky to where God holds his high throne,
I am stunned of breath at this bright blue ceiling
stretching to infinity over all celestial planes.
Its towers over my dwarfed insignificance.
The answers don't lie in the tranquilliser clouds
where birds glide on the wind of dreams
and spirits fall dumb in lack of oxygen.
Little islands of failed ideology clot the waters
gives sanctuary to the masses who follow blindly.
Encountering cannibals of independent thought,
It is suggested to adopt the masks all ethic tribe;
to sink into their traditions as brutal savages,
but I have focus and clarity of soul.
Lost to a destination unknown,
staring through the fresh waters
observing in silent denial the ghost of my
reflection in constant change
until it is unrecognisable, incomprehensible.
My youthfulness is eternal decay,
drained to nourish an expanding intellect.
Burdened with empty knowledge
scratched upon my face,
tangled barbed ivy conceals
identity in chaotic overgrowth.
Memory is malleable, contoured to suit
a present purpose, each distortion
peels away a layer of truth, until
it fades as a falsely construed photograph.
My mind holds jagged shards of images
that will not gel together,
as a puzzle without resolve.
I am sailing for twenty years at least though
I only just became sentient to this world.
At first there chaos plagued the mind, unable to grasp its complexity.
Now my personality is at calm with its Siamese self,
they are lovers under duress
of my obsessions.
Death and beauty are statuettes of darker seeds,
where shallow God falls I rise in
streams of conscienceness
fragmented visions flow
seamlessly from tributaries of psyche.
[This message has been edited by brian madden (edited 05-18-2000).]