I got to get out of this mind set.
Writing poems,
Should be in bed, this book is unread
It hasn’t been read yet.
The lines in the mind, the microwave mind
Popcorn chatter, trying to unwind,
It’s a test.
Another belt hip check.
Change your mind set,
Like the television, remote control.

Free Prose.

Wishful thinking.
My mind says I am going to be fine today.
Just got to read what’s written
The cue cards are held by the
First and the fifteenth.
And I can’t seem to get to what’s underneath.
I just want to take a memory rain check.
Leave my brain, back at breakfast
With the waitress.
Put my hands together, clasp tight like magnets.
And find meaning in my words,
A dance like this, has so many left feet.
So many times, I try and repeat the same thing
So many times I try and repeat the same thing
So many times I try and repeat the same thing
Like a broken record, skipping, skip, skipping
Like a leaky faucet, drip, dripping
Like wishful thinking, drive up the bargain basement
Rhyme store, world star entertainment
Bargain rack, beat box.
I try and write to the meter, but I get shocked
When the beat drops.
Listen to the rock star rambunctious rock and roller
Water the plants, put the baby in the stroller,
Time for a mental health check, your whole court room is
Out of order.
They call it a disorder.
They call it a condition.
They call it Schizophrenia
They call it mental illness.
I guess it’s all of those things
Mixed with medicinal thinking.
Thinking a pill will fix it all.
Nope, now that’s wishful thinking.

I shaved the grey out of the sky,
Took my feet off of the ceiling.
Wrote to the rapture, waited in line
Just to see how he was feeling.
And Man searches for meaning.
I search for living in the moment
Keeping in focus, while the world
Goes out of lens, and darkness slowly approaches
But rats, to roaches, to cars, to coaches,
To the basketball team who never let me in the game
To all the broken noses, to all the missed opportunities
To all the bastard nicknames, to all the head games,
To the missed shots, and all the wounded mind frames,
To the racket causing, what’s all that racket,
To the swish to the basket,
End, but I feel good with this jazz backdrop
So I get right back at it.

This is a free prose, the aliens have landed
Typing on my computer to the beat on the radio
The bug has been broadcasted in stereo.
Flute loop, Beast in the basement,
Wishful thinking,
That’s all I know.


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