Monday, June 12, 2006
By Richard E. Noble
I’m trying to write a poem without thought;
Because even thinking becomes a bore.
Thinking is so ... thought-like.
Thinking is so rational, so sensible.
People tire of correct thinking. They want to escape to witches
and flying brooms;
and rooms the color of the wind;
bugs that dance;
and animals that talk.
Sensible thought is so ordinary;
so matter of fact.
It leaves no room for creative mis-being,
and incognitive wonder - impossible what-ifs.
We have the un-real, the un-born, and the unfathomable.
We have anti-gravity, and anti-matter.
In the world of the un-thought
anything can be taught.
Nothing is not impossible.
Nothing is, in fact, fact.
All is not all.
Empty can be full.
A top can have no bottom.
We can have two everythings;
and they can be beside one another ... and different.
We can have opposing similarities,
negative positives, and passive aggressives.
Apples can be compared with oranges.
The sick can be the healthy; and
the wealthy can be the poor.
It is like listening to Jazz and the discordant note.
The note that binds is the note that doesn’t fit.
What doesn’t follow is what should be next.
So let’s not think and let us see what happens.
Or ... is that the way it has always been.