Too Bad Love Is Out Of Style Poem by Keith Rushing

spiritual burglary
delicious minutes
unlovely products of a puritanical conscience
alcohol taken as a club with which to bludgeon into a state of insensibility
words seemed to clothe genuine honesty, they prove to be the veriest nonsense
epiphanic amorphous mind and its stream of consciousness
I imagine a neural interface that could record dreams
not brainwaves, but images
phantasmagoric films beset by the florid mind
sorry echoes in the verbosity
Too bad love has fallen out of style
now that squares rule the world
I can't express 'why' in words
so unrealistic a view of themselves and the world that they become most difficult to live with
little wonder I dwell alone
everything is really fragmentary
analyzing the analyst
tripping over my words
instantaneous administration
mesmerized by the minutiae of sensations
tangles of terminology writhe in his brain
collating and sorting
assigning vectors
in hopeful sectors
where heart and love abides




aside: As Arjuna said to Krishna: 'The mind is restless, turbulent, powerful and obstinate. I deem it as difficult to control as the wind.' Poise, balance, inner harmony, the 'creation of an island that no flood can immerse' - all this can be achieved by one who has learned to handle his impressions. Between the moment when an impression strikes and the reaction to that impression, elapses a time so short it can hardly be measured by man's ordinary awareness.