Mind Unlimted 02
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2017

Writing my thoughts down without thinking, it didn't work this time. Here's thought.

Time it flows so slow;
it goes so fast. I don't know where.
I don't know if I do care. Why are you here?
Who are you to listen? Who am I to say?
Where do I fetch my visions and why do I chase them away?
Rubber Onion podcast in the background. Three years:
I've been around for thirteen. We share.
Not many moments. Monuments. Omens.
I'm getting. I'm getting purpose.
I'm getting nowhere.

I can't even brainstorm:
My brain's on: My brain's warm.
My brain's worn. It's the end of the week:
What should I speak about? I play norm.
No strange talks. Devils and angels.
Trump and white race. Problems. But what do I face?
Where is life great? Aliens. Other planets.
Get out there in a UFO. It goes upstract.
The flow reactors. The second verse.
Becomes Space Invader.

Like Darth Vader this world is.
There is no escape.
It's too late. It's still early.
But it's late if we wait.
It's late if we say: it's too late!
Though we still have whole days to stay
And contemplate. And live our days. And bake some cake.
And make it mean more, because there's too much weight in.
All that is at stake. Like an atomic bomb. Drop it on.