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Nothing Between

So full of empty between the ears; void breeze reasoning, zero thoughts a-blowing Banished to the barren cornfields, multi-grain years of accumulated wisdom bear no pleasant, golden-age yield Black sky intellectual famine was lost cause shuttered-in, by a blight of self-centered locust feed Constant dry spells of self-absorption: Attic dust sparked a bewitchingly vague eclipse acceleration ... a covering blindness of gross darkness No candlelight activity ~ no emotional fertility Ancient bones of moist contention randomly doused by fiery forgetfulness Addled gestures buried beneath facial dry ground, blanches the ash fallow soil with expressionless sterility Immense nothingness ... bountiful emptiness A vacuous mental sheaf bending to the hollow wind whisperings heard less and less Cranial cracked cistern, watercolors of compassion spilling New cretin observations ... conversation water table on the dwindle Kaleidoscope personalities that are always chameleon changing Dawn memories fading, thoughts diffusing Never able again to see things quite right upstairs mirror prism bent improperly, casting past reflections mnemonic shadowy Where did a neural immeasurable, liquid electric muse evaporate to? How did an oasis of joyous rumination disappear, without a serene memory dip to refresh anew? A once beautiful, fertile mind is now banished to the barren cornfields A formerly wondrous field of dreams, now listens to the Alzheimer wind silently mind-blowing There’s nothing between the autumn ears, yet the summer fears springing above the chest, keeps winter growing A once beautiful mind is forever banished to the barren cornfields To listen, agitatedly, for the turbulent winds to silently come a-blowing Having nothing between the ears; only the never-ebbing, night falling fears ... and crashing waves of misty morning tears A tsunami loss of knowing Empty tidal thoughts above the chest, which keeps on daily rising

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Leanne Lovejoy-Burton

Date: 8/30/2018 9:46:00 PM

Dark undertones, quite powerful when one reads a second and third time. The work of a true master. Regards, a true novice.

Leanne Lovejoy-Burton

Date: 8/30/2018 9:44:00 PM

A scarecrow flapping in the wind watches and reads black crows flying aimlessly across a grey winter page, while the cretins croak like bullfrogs a warning dire....hmmm I think I shall read this one again of yours. Visions of that David Bowie tune Blackstar.