quiet the mind
just enough to hear the important thoughts/
the creative thoughts/
the thoughts that are often drowned out
by anxiety rambling
and existential depression blues
there may be creative moments
inside those diatribes
but i’ve heard enough of them to know —
it’s getting past them
that the true me
lies
[in truth]
gibberish poems
can become
gibberish songs
which may be
exactly what i need to do
in order to stop me
from overanalyzing
and overjudging
and overscrutinizing
my own creativity
letting my brain
rest
for a second
it’s not nearly as
easy as
it sounds
characterizing my own self
pathologizing
my past
my future
but never my present
because my present is too overthought
to be anything but
half a moment in the past
or a half a worry
about the future
i know the steps i’d take
and the things i’d say
to be mean
but i never say or do them
they remain inside my mouth/my throat/buried deep inside my mind
and though those actions i’ve never taken
and i know i never will,
how come having those thoughts alone makes me feel like
the worst person who has ever lived?
[i know i know the point is
we cannot control our immediate reactions/thoughts/feelings,
but what we can control —
and what shows the merit of a person —
is how we act on them, but i guess i just want to be so good of a human
that i never have human feelings
ever]
i’m lost in a dream
and the future as it seems
to spread out in front of
and behind me
and i still can’t get a good grasp
on the present, that’s the one thing
hidden away
lost
unfindable
irreplaceable —
the past keeps adding up
and the future is infinite
it is only the present as it is
that is only
one thing
overzealously analyzing why i’m like this
why i do [or don’t do] the things i do/do not do
but still not delving too deep
to analyze with heart not mind
overthinking/intellectualizing/brain-processing
is my curse
and i’ll cling to it until i can’t anymore
[can i bring myself to a place where i can’t anymore?]
overthinking
overfeeling
to the point of it all becoming
[nothing]
not thinking in poetry
this morning
not thinking in
much of anything
[too many thoughts
before getting out of bed]
my heart points me towards
the poems i want to write
sometimes i need to just place down
some gibberish at the beginning of a document
to let my heart lead me where it needs
but it always leads me
somewhere
but when my brain wants to poetize about something
and the heart is not at all aligned
every word feels false,
every metaphor forced,
and i leave wondering if i actually
did more damage to the subject
than honor and love and art
i suppose this just means that
poetry, even my own, was always
a heart-driven/emotional act
(and the overthinking can just
stay away while i write,
please!)
kipventures 