Have you ever strayed
over the edge of reason ?
Driven by all-embracing logic,
become a metaphor in pyjamas ?
Driven, for that circle must be squared,
or crossed, or arrowed.
Every road sign, every street name,
every lit window is symbol.
While the wide world chain smokes,
each number signifies, all actions link.
Your silent voice yells in an empty cave.
Where doors of perception jam open,
no one is neutral:
in any car’s colour, the driver’s allegiance.
Vision - a contraband daughter -
bathes perspective in hallucination,
sends wisdom a postcard.
Ears ring with the fallout in your head.
When diurnal rhythm lets go its hold,
time melts like a Dali watch
across the labyrinth of waking.
From one slug, or burn, or coffee cup
sleepless to the next;
each turning point an act of futile defiance.
Have you ever drifted
beyond your hidden depth ?
Reached deep within to grip
some outstretched hand ?
viii - ix.2001
Just to say, in case the title doesn't make it plain, that BREAKDOWN represents a point at which patience/inspiration gave out. It is of historical interest only.
ReplyDeleteI’d wanted to get down on paper, with the perspective of hindsight, what I remember of those black, psychotic times back in 1984; what transpired is surreal and indulgent. I didn’t like the end result much at all at the time of writing, but I'm more comfortable with it now – the imagery still resonates in my head. And maybe those who’ve trod a similar path would perceive some truth therein.
This poem may be fruitfully viewed in tandem with TIME OUT OF MIND.