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by Mark Maxey

reddish orange glow emits it's healing rays through slats of thin plastic rows
the aroma of fresh ground black onyx coffee wafers in the still air
gears slowly begin to spin...again... to their full revolution inside my head
and those thoughts begin to run it's patterned cycle

at times I not sure where to push in the rod to stop the cogs
a wheel of imagery words cycle in a loop of disarray
the smoke of overworked parts gets nauseating at times

"you have pierced the level of the comfort zone
and that is good", they said,
"but, still I was uncomfortable"

again interaction between two is labored
not sure where the memory bank is located on how to handle this...or if it exists
too many emotional episodes of survival instincts caused the numbness to exist

watching the guy be pushed over the fifth story tier
seeing unwanted recipients of stray bullets lay lifeless on the ground
walking by half masked windows of iron where another swings on his sheet of knots made for salvation
watching a man get hit with a mop bucket wringer where his jaw and face lay next to his swollen body of unrecognizable shape
watching my life play out in the fashion of movies that I had no say over
always seeking dreams that were within grasp...but never close enough to hold
belief in storybook romances that were only daydream lies
wanton reckless living speeding down the road with no directions
trying to make sense of the dysfunction from youth that stunted adult evolution
too much to process as a child with no manual on survival
trust placed in others when I did not even know how to trust myself
living life in a pattern of chaos never seeing I had the remote control
are these just images...thoughts...do they exist?

I awake in the present moment inside the car; only to see we passed three blocks of roadway
pushed back thoughts again, again, and again, this survival technique is self programmed
it's a machete required forrest inside my head
but in the midst I think I have lost my soul..I feel numb to life
how much pushing back can you do before you lose the ground you held?

I wonder if others have the same cog.....nitive experiences
afraid to voice them, they lay silent within my machinery
and I push back...again...again....again...and.....

12/12/2004

Posted on 01/16/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Michelle Angelini on 01/18/05 at 12:39 AM

Another incredible journey - this one graphic and descriptive. For some reason it's slightly Ginsberg-like. Great work!
~Chelle~

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