deepundergroundpoetry.com
Radioactive
Every journey has demands,
amphibious creatures unto lands
Of sands,
Converting oxygen with methods
written into the design
by creation, & or, evolution
To sustain
Trips into foreign places,
in search of information,
Out of instinct, like
The poet, always bringing back
Ink.
Radiated
by the other side,
in residual aftermaths,
over time, becoming deeply engrained
In
Grains of sand,
washed over and moved
by the waves of self, in a groove,
purifying the conceptualization of pain.
I
love
my
pain.
Published 20th Jul 2021
Author's Note
I have this thing... It is almost like a switch that I flip, in order to "go over to the other side" in search of ideas. I have philosophized about this, in the past. I think the analogy of the amphibious creature is an excellent one. Tis like the intellectual, who can only exist in that realm or space, for certain allotted time periods, to their great sorrow, perhaps. (or the spaceman/psychonaut... I was going to incorporate that into this... I LOVE that analogy). but yes... I was just thinking of wherever we, as writers/poets/creators go for ideas/inspiration... and I wondered if we bring something back. That would only seem reasonable. (There is deeper to delve into this idea.). Oh yeah... I have a very strange story about a toad, that happened in the last year...
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