Confabulation Poem by Alice Anne Gordon

Confabulation of the inner kind
Chat to myself, in my own time.
Am I a liar? Or just unaware
Of why some people don’t stop to stare?
Is it just me?
Or perhaps self-deception
Of peoples reactions; perceptions
Deeper I go into my mind
Trying to solve what I just can’t find

Mind, whirling with ideas new
Medic notes and book reviews
Found a novel full of facts
The brain’s abound with mem’ry
Spiralling, spinning, sprawling, learning, living.

Confabulation of the psychiatric kind
Tied up in knots of the naughty mind
Am I a liar? Or just unaware
Of why some people really don’t care
Is it just me?
Or perhaps self-deception
Of people’s reactions; reception
Deeper I go into my mind
Trying to solve what I just can’t find

Mind, whirling with ideas new
Medic notes and book reviews
Found a novel full of facts
The brain’s abound with mem’ry
Spiralling, spinning, sprawling, learning, laughing

Who am I?
Who are they?
Why won’t I let
Myself out to play?

Conspiculation of the obvious kind
Blatant respect for my visible find
Am I a liar? Or just unaware
Of why that one person really does care
Is it me or self deception
Of my own reaction; attraction
Deeper I go into my mind
Not trying to find what I’ve already found

Mind, whirling with ideas new
Medic notes and book reviews
Found a novel full of facts
The brain’s abound with mem’ry
Spiralling, spinning, sprawling, learning, loving.