I'm doing a poetry course today, part of which was to do some automatic writing. Here is one result of that. It's also the weekend, which means it's time for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing exercise on his blog, Unemployed Imagination. So head over to his website to read, write or comment. Cheers and happy writing :)
This hidden meaning
outside the pressure of our minds.
We are spent where we stand.
We are pages ripped out and tossed
without question, the vowels + consonants.
We are sounds inside these spaces,
the rich strands of it all put together.
Life spills forth out of the edges,
seeking a stage to assert itself upon.
But where is the hidden meaning?
We wear it inside, turn it outside,
this eternal signal to everyone:
here I am. We are standing here,
making a point of being, of breathing,
ripped from wombs, all so unique.
We are the mix-up, the mishmash,
the dreams we envelop sometimes.
We are the trees that breathe anew,
summoning colours in the dark.
We spill forth, rattling our cages,
being all we can stand to be.
