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Virago E DeSante

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Member Since: Before 2003

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by Virago E DeSante
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Virago E DeSante
•  unfinished fragment
•  aching ardor
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           >> View all 34

I'm stuck in my head,
the world is spinning,
revolving around the core of me.
Nothing is sensible
the shouted words are
phantoms and vapors,
the twisting tendrils of
space inside spaces undefinable
the axis is skewed
the images are slurred remainders
of intelligable thought.
Entertain me?
I'm detained
by self-important, unimportant
ramblings and gibberish.
So I'm still fascinated
by my own pathology and the
understanding of just
what I have become,
and what I am,
in the inner trappings
of my little microcosm.
I am satisfied to observe
the comings and goings of a
technically non-substantial being.
So, if the inner me only
exists as a small charge
between neurons,
an electrical pulse,
and I find myself to be...
reasonably entertaining...
why do I refuse, then,
to be more forthcoming
with my own "self"
when I want that "self"
to be known for what "it" is?
Another drop in the bucket
an undeniable plunge
into the nothingness
of the eternal mind.
The collective thoughts
of the "human" organism
that we all are.
We breathe, we feed, we multiply,
we die.

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Reviewed by Kimmy Van Kooten 8/18/2007
I like your style and it intrigues me to think that this abstraction, in its reality, was conjured up by another Allentownian! :)
Love and Peace~
Reviewed by J M 1/5/2006
Many truths in this poem. Well crafted.
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