(no subject)
This came to me while sitting at the computer listening to music. It is not really a poem and not really prose, I figured the closest thing I could call it is a "Dreamscape"
Pulsating waves of angry harmonies and discordant chords enter me taking control of my mind. They bring forth the Neolithic urges, the ones that reside in my frontal lobe, the urges feared by the civilized people of today. I throw off the chains binding me to the rules of this world. I have tried to recover from this fate bestowed upon me, but for what, I am no better now than I was when I embraced it and allowed it to become a part of me. I now stand before a fork in my path the choice of medications and doctors or freedom, to allow my brain to operate the way it was designed with no chemicals and no psychobabble. Free to be as crazy as I was made to be….for what would normal be with crazy? I must do my part to keep balance in the world. Think if all the crazy people were to be healed would there be a normal or would the standards of normal be raised once again an unattainable status for those who are not already at the top of the pile.
NLJ 9/20/05