Thirty Down, Thirty Nine To Go And The Wind Is Right Poem by jerome moore

There is so much on my mind,
oh soul
I begin to write but cannot tell where i am
Where am I driver?
freedom without ransom
choice without ultimata
like I'm lost in the creases of an origami cityscape
and it is disguised in a cluster of arabesque balloons which float
all sillyass!
under bumper to bumper light flash lasers into eternity and beach
there is a gone whistle from bellow the prison grates.
lava boils in the bowels of the beast
and my heart cant beat with its rhyme rhythm
apogee winks and I have already been around the neighborhood twice
sharing this bus with a fool on suicide watch
his eyes have to laugh every five stops
so he won't eat depression...