Behind my eyes
a stream of consciousness poem
Behind my eyes
lost and found
there is a silence
the truth about me
my silent vocal cords
the tears which stick to themselves
the brain pain
at the back of my mind
on the inside
the underside of the little grey matter
a place which remembers
the fetus I was
the mold I can be
the wonder I really am
the pain of separation
and the joy of dissolution
and the hunger
that once was and shall be
forever
for Her
or It or Him
that Divine Sustenance
God is which
shall remain nameless
and is the only real true fulfillment
Who sings to me
from under the sea
like mermaids and Disney crabs
with messages I cannot hear
with my ears but feel
in my bones
like sonar
which resonates behind
the brain in the dark
soft space eternal
which intellectually
I pooh pooh, forget, disdain
sometimes when my brain has been on steroids
gotten too full of itself
got a wind in the head
heat on the brain
steam from the ears
forgetting the spongecake
(What the hell?)
Good girls don't swear
well I'm obviously a gorilla
a wild woman with mange
a mermaid
without fishscales
they were lost
(and yet still hide behind my skin)
lost in the maze of thought
and braintied trying
to be who I think I am or should be
or am wanted to be
instead of who I am
behind my eyes
there are tears, crystalline
and songs of birds
and felines
and darkly through the deep
whale/dolphin calls and squeaks
and the mousy, nicely brownie sounds
of earthgirl words
it is ok to roar
the mouse roared
and look what happened
the world turned back on itself
Steinbeckian-wise
and was at peace
obviously it is also ok to be a mouse
Thank God
it is ok to be me
to teach not preach
to sing, to. . . .
behind my eyes
there is a brain
waiting to be cleared
it has been shook up
all the neurochemical wines imbalanced,
mixed up Dionysian orgy excavation
of that gray matter
elephants tapdancing
tip toe
Why have I lost the peace?
It was so Easy
(with hindsight it always looks better
greener on the other side)
with my brain shut off
the voices quieted
my eyes uncertain
double and in pain,
and yet I was at peace
Fresh from the lap of God, Her love
warming my skeleton,
softening my leaded heart
unsuiting me of waspish pain
behind my eyes
She waits
until the car,
an avenging angel bringing me past ignorance
winds down and I can sleep
or dance
or sing the body electric
through the heart and out my brain
no eyevines tangled
no IQ lost, no father figure overly patriarchal and bossy
because its all in my mind, my head
behind my eyes
the universe is waiting
as I get writers cramp
and the pen or pencil--stilo
to be French and something
-pretentious maybe, or cultured or vain or just eclectic
yes, I like that last one, that's me, eclectic
waiting for the universe to stop
and yet it dances
so I join in
sing low sweet chariot
behind my eyes
it all stops cold and warm and dry,
with peacocks purple splendiferous feathers
behind my eyes
waiting for my heart to catch up
to resurp her place
as boss
and put that damn secretary, my brain
back in her uppity place, as a mirror
for consciousness, not the thing itself,
not God almighty but the words, the tool
for me myself and I
behind my eyes
is me
I lie in wait
behind my eyes
Boo.
by Megan Robinson