Jagged Thoughts #70: Ghost. Comedian. Poet.


 

In the end comes
a great divide,
comes the poets dancing
with fragile minds.
The sunshine is gone
And the moon is not hear yet.
I tried to find peace to remember something
but memory is gone
scrambled like eggs,
or static on an old TV set.
But I won’t forget things
That are written in places,
the sad look on her angel face,
the sad look as he repaired her broken wings.
And all my dreams are in slow motion.
If there is anything I’ve learned
from dreaming in the distance is
The darkness of night relinquishes
Prisoners.
From my mind a thought,
My off again on again struggle
remembering for only a few seconds
how many ways I love you.
And losing to migraines
that never ending shuffle
wishing there was a way back
my heart the strongest muscle.
Because my mind is about as strong
As I can make it.
And can go as far as my sanity can take it.
And when I have enough
That’s when I close my eyes
And fall.
Into a world where I can fly
If I want or I can haunt if I want or I can die before I wake and that’s the chance that I take
And that I guess
Is my great escape.

To realize I am forever sleep walking.
And the ghost of me
Is sick of haunting.
And the comedian in me
has lost
His audience.
And the poet in me is making me nauseous.
And the drive in me
Is keeping me cautious.
Cause judgement is in each word
Like bosses at the office.
And I can’t figure anything out
Like the United States congress.
And blessed by saints
I try to be honest.
But flourish in pain
And set the time to regress
Like the kid I was once
At recess on a lonely swing set
Wishing for success before tribe called quest set my mind to never half step.
And the Word to jump off
Like a diving board in summer
Is that the wonder years are over.
Like Fred savages career
And to
End with pop culture
I think my poem dumber
Then dumb and more dumber.
And if I could end
In mid sentence
Say what’s up to Joe Strummer
Rest in power soldier
The struggle to
Unite in living color is almost over.
The world could be so
much better
If we all just got along together.
We got a ways to go
But poets are on the letter.
So we keep moving on like
Marley said,
The motion and the movement
to keep a shook up world together
one cohesive unit.
To spread love and joy
And try our best
Cause all the rest is useless.
As poets United We Stand.
And I give respect to those with
Microphone minds
Letting the world
know
now is our time.
This world needs improvement.
And only
we can
do it.
And only we can do it.

 

Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.