I'll try and post as much as I can today and perhaps Wednesday. I'm leaving for America for the next month so my very loyal and important readers, most of December will be a postless vacuum. The next poem I wanted to post, is really a nice thought or perhaps a critical one. I wanted it to be a bit more poetical. It's rather simple really, I've been reading a book of Les Murray Poetry and I think...by god, boy you confuse the heck out of me. Naturally people think that poetry should at least be decipherable to poets...maybe it is but not to me, but I have another theory whcih helps my confidence. I know for me Poetry is a particularly unique thing like an abstract painting sometimes and really the only one who can completely know what the poem was or where it came from was the poet, so hence why I'll share a little here so you can get what I'm sayin.
Basically, I was thinking what a shame it would be if people kept everything inside and then I thought so much of who we are is about connecting to other things so really inside we are "no one". Anyway readers please enjoy this next poem and in your own lives try and connect with as much as you can!
No one
No one on this earth can admit the plainest
Bounds of our minds are our real homes
Trapped behind a glass wall of nerves
And pulsing electrons
Inside we are no one
Outside we become something
We build our neurons around other bodies
Things shapes landscapes lives
We breathe and we feel
We breathe to feel and
Feel to breathe
Apart and together and interconnected
Laced clumsily and tightly
The knots are where we thrive
The places between things and connections
Before this and before our entry and exits
Within the glob of bile and swelling brain though
We are truly no one
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