life expo
has no booths
no one to sell or promote
lethargic unhealthy
habits
excuses rampant here
tired broke another victim of
breath exhausted cigarette junk comfort
choking on stagnant
fear anger grips
dark barriers
and hides in
ancient wrecked
wasteland
all numbed out
sedated
complacent
going around and around
lost grasping karmic fog
devolving unconnected
survival
a well attended
convention
02/25/2010
Author's Note: I recently attended an event at the Conscious Life Expo, wondering if there ever was....thus the title of this poem. feedback??? Namaste MFS
Good write MFS. We grasp at every straw our physician will push us to swallow. Anything to push self image to say poor me and those who can't be revived by their doctor find what they need in a bar or on some back alley corner. Makes one wonder about our conscious or unconscious life doesn't it.
Lately I find a strange absence of words to describe how I feel. And how I feel only barely seems to be related to my consciousness even though the evidence would seem contrary. "...grasping cosmic fog..." is a mouthful, my dear friend.
