Hour 22
Where intelligence goes to die
Words don’t make sense
What are words?
A poem? You want a poem?
You don’t want anything coherent I’m sure
I am here, I am typing
I am drifting in and out of consciousness
I cannot spell, I cannot think
I cannot conceive of why I agree to this
Year after year
I am older
Weaker
I have chemo brain
But I keep typing
One word after another
A sentence is our friend
Beat it brilliance
We can’t do that here
Disjointed
Disillusioned
Discombooberated
I am sleep deprived
Word weary
I speak gibberish now
‘Discombooberated’ terrific word play. The moment the bra is fired off because you’re tired and somehow that helps. A good play on words and I’m glad to see another writer using capitalisation. This trend has disappeared in modern poetry. Poetry is an art form and capitalisation makes it easy on the eye! It also clarifies line breaks when line length inhibits this.
“I speak gibberish” is a wonderful way to end a poem. I experienced this feeling in full effect this year especially. “Word weary” is something I feel after writing a great poem, or worse, a terrible one.
Ahhh, but profound gibberish! Nicely done. A bit of whimsy, a lot of introspection. I really enjoyed this one.