h’woooosh

My mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind.

The curved air rolls with the force and speed of the images produced within my consciousness,

Third eye, dizzy –

Hitting all corners at least twice before realizing I’ve been spinning.

A grand, rotating revolution, spinning is the problem – and spinning is the solution!

Just endless spirals, lights of the night go round and round,

Images, viral, reaching right into my retinas as I recall the square frames

as I endlessly scroll down –

S

P

I

N

N

I

N

G

!

A regurgitation of recent memory, trains of thought criss-cross-crashing, flying off the rails,

airplanes flying, shooting my thoughts up high while spilling out white streaks of racing-thought chemtrails

SPINNING around, my point of view’s on ballerina style, just a Whirling Dervish,

morphing, contorting – an 18th century French poem, written in cursive – a lightly used, Hello Kitty themed furnace,

a concerned Greek chorus, singing, trying to warn us – a rebellious sect of spaghetti, bobbing and weaving away from a fork –

it’s, a natural force of the mind, subliminal– it keeps [spinning] it goes so fast, unpredictable,

Mind’s eye like a set of 24-inch Sprewell rims from 2003

a wheel within a wheel, a Mayan calendar of an experience

sPiNnNiNg I change channels in my head

From Tik-Tok clips to Cher’s greatest hits to random scenes from Eddie Murphy’s ‘Delirious’

I’m serious, just kaleido-scope into my third eye view, and see whatever comes to;

Mind you, at times its not intentional, the way it aligns, but,

nevertheless, I’m usually just a happy, little mess;

Rotating revolutions, all mixed with randomness,

Self-entertaining, that’s what my mind’s eye be like, fam;

If you catch me laughing to myself, no te apures I’m doing just fine!

I just paused on something funny I saw on my internal screens, and just had to hit re-wind. . .

Because, you see, my mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind. – RSM

Shelter in a Moonlit Temple

My third eye’s the only one that doesn’t need corrective lenses,

And I’m betting that I’m spending a little too much attention

On the rocks thrown at the church of my creations and inventions,

But I’m in the last pew just trying to focus on my blessings.

And I don’t fully believe, everything the priest proclaims,

And the rock throwers outside, no, they’re not fully to blame,

Optimism clashes when another stone thrown crashes with the doubters throwing rocks, breaking windows during masses,

I know its all a vision I see through my clearest lens,

I built this church from the ground up, it is mine to defend,

And if it’s all in my head, I focus less upon the doubting

and the shouting from outside my inner spirit’s sacred housing,

In my mind’s temple the lights-go-out, in an instant-silence;

No more broken glass falling, no more riots, no more violence,

Just a silent harmony between my eyes and moonlit-panes

Now the rock throwers are gone, stained-glass all back in their frames,

Then my other two eyes opened, focus, breath, peace of mind maintained,

I’m no longer in a church, but I’m on my couch,

I unfolded my legs, stood, then I blew the candle out,

turned off all the other lights, and smiled at the bright moonlight,

Shining through my kitchen window, like a vessel through the night. -RSM

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