Unaltered, pure brain vomit hits the page.
Splatters all over the shades of white and blue.
Chunks of ideas mingled with passing turns of phraseNow I’m feeling like a janitor forced to clean up the mess.
But I’m out of sawdust, so i can’t get it all.
Whatever is left on the page I decide to call poetry.
This upchuck of ideas from the pit of my mind.
– Shaman Romney 2015
What do you think?