Bad Poetry

Full Catastrophe Living, Jon Kabit-zinn
introduced me to Pablo Neruba
and a concept of a thought
separated from the previous,
separated from the following,
isolated.

Now what to do with each isolated thought
but make bad poetry.

A phrase at a time, in the now
no future, no past
my mind likes this;
it matches my thinking,
it fits, I do not know why.

The stream of consciousness,
but not so fast,
but not from consciousness
for I know not what will be next.

From the unconscious it must come
to consciousness and thence to screen.
but why, but why, does it come,
in such a torrent, untamed?

What is my purpose?
What is my aim?
To transcribe bad poetry,
in my name.

Stop me, stop me, before I go completely insane.