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Poem

Oh, it is a bizarre little neighborhood -
my head – peopled by thoughts
that congregate in cryptic ghettos,

Wary of the other thoughts
that reside in other ghettos
they walk the synapses of cynicism

Secure in the knowledge
that all the other thoughts
are just a little bit off,
slightly to seriously misinformed,
deluded by the mainstream cerebellum
into supporting the physical mess.

Two blocks down and one block over
reside the synapses of happiness,
peopled by thoughts of happiness,
they have totally lost touch with reality
although it is fun to hang out with them
just to confuse those who reside
in the synapses of unhappiness.
They wonder “how can the cynic be happy?”

Just West of the block of wonderment
reside the thoughts of “God” or “Goddess”
like some “God” is going to be trapped
within a specified sexual context.

On the other side of the “tracks”
reside the thoughts of anger and loneliness,
they are angry and lonely because
they refuse to cross the tracks
and consider another alternative.

Every intersection of the synapse highway
has a set of high speed traffic lights
to control the flow of the thoughts
and keep my head from exploding.

I have wandered these synaptic ghettos since birth
and feel quite confident engaging them all
I would invite you in but they are poor hosts.

12/12/2016
submitted to – In Your Head – Poetry Contest

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