The Flying Mind

November 25

THE FLYING MIND

When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am left mentally bereft.  I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to fulfill my assignments.  I stare out sure a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy.  What to do?  These parodied wingdings ridicule me privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors.  My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place.  I have to find a way to spot and keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by watching one doorframe or light switch.  I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts.  I still need to make the mental turns but this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.

Work with yourself.

*

John Grisham

My time hovering low over the ocean

has filled me until I am ready to drop.

The weight of what is inside me bears down.

I know with the slightest cooperation

I will become a rainmaker.

I am mostly fine with this.

I know from whence the rain was derived

and I can let it fall in peace.

What I don’t know how to handle

is the acknowledgement.

The difference between what I know

and what you might think is vast

and if I try to dissuade you

I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.

I have to get my head around the part I play

and accept the roses when they come.

I don’t understand how this looks from offstage

or what it means to those who watch.

I hope they will enjoy the work

but never mistake me for the playwright.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/VePH0r1p3_M

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

John Grisham

November 29

John Grisham

My time hovering low over the ocean has filled me until I am ready to drop.  The weight of what is inside me bears down; I know with the slightest cooperation I will become a rainmaker.  I am mostly fine with this; I know from whence the rain was derived and I can let it fall in peace.  What I don’t know how to handle is the acknowledgement.  The difference between what I know and what you might think is vast and if I try to dissuade you I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.  I have to get my head around the part I play and accept the roses when they come.  I don’t understand how this looks from offstage or what it means to those who watch.  I hope they will enjoy the work but never mistake me for the playwright.

Greet the day with open eyes

*

BLEATING FORMALITY

Stupidity stalks me when I’m tired
Hi-jacking my mouth and my mind
I can put this off to pilot error or interruption
Of service on my neurologic pipeline
But truly I have been captured
By senseless irrational mutinous.

I would love to say it was pig headedness
But alas I am not self-determined, I am a sheep
I open my lips and out pours the same
Plaintive cry as the surrounding herd.

In addition, once begun the wail is unending.
It’s as if the bellows works on its own
Carrying a tune which blends
With the entire wool coated world.

I shift and run with my position
According to the movements at large.
I am following the reactionary breed
Dropping the specifics of my personality
As one of the crowd, my brain switched off
And a quick veneer grows over my eyes

I can’t see, think or speak for myself
And yet it doesn’t occur to me to hit the hay.
When as a petulant three year old
I fall asleep in my tract, I awake as myself,
With many bleating apologies to be made.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

The Flying Mind

November 25

THE FLYING MIND

When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am left mentally bereft.  I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to fulfill my assignments.  I stare out sure a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy.  What to do?  These parodied wingdings ridicule me privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors.  My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place.  I have to find a way to spot and keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by watching one doorframe or light switch.  I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts.  I still need to make the mental turns but this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.

Work with yourself.

*

John Grisham

My time hovering low over the ocean

has filled me until I am ready to drop.

The weight of what is inside me bears down.

I know with the slightest cooperation

I will become a rainmaker.

I am mostly fine with this.

I know from whence the rain was derived

and I can let it fall in peace.

What I don’t know how to handle

is the acknowledgement.

The difference between what I know

and what you might think is vast

and if I try to dissuade you

I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.

I have to get my head around the part I play

and accept the roses when they come.

I don’t understand how this looks from offstage

or what it means to those who watch.

I hope they will enjoy the work

but never mistake me for the playwright.

John Grisham

November 29

John Grisham

My time hovering low over the ocean has filled me until I am ready to drop. The weight of what is inside me bears down; I know with the slightest cooperation I will become a rainmaker. I am mostly fine with this; I know from whence the rain was derived and I can let it fall in peace. What I don’t know how to handle is the acknowledgement. The difference between what I know and what you might think is vast and if I try to dissuade you I sound disingenuous or fraudulent. I have to get my head around the part I play and accept the roses when they come. I don’t understand how this looks from offstage or what it means to those who watch. I hope they will enjoy the work but never mistake me for the playwright.

Greet the day with open eyes

*

BLEATING FORMALITY

Stupidity stalks me when I’m tired
Hi-jacking my mouth and my mind
I can put this off to pilot error or interruption
Of service on my neurologic pipeline
But truly I have been captured
By senseless irrational mutinous.

I would love to say it was pig headedness
But alas I am not self-determined, I am a sheep
I open my lips and out pours the same
Plaintive cry as the surrounding herd.

In addition, once begun the wail is unending.
It’s as if the bellows works on its own
Carrying a tune which blends
With the entire wool coated world.

I shift and run with my position
According to the movements at large.
I am following the reactionary breed
Dropping the specifics of my personality
As one of the crowd, my brain switched off
And a quick veneer grows over my eyes

I can’t see, think or speak for myself
And yet it doesn’t occur to me to hit the hay.
When as a petulant three year old
I fall asleep in my tract, I awake as myself,
With many bleating apologies to be made.