Writer. Poems by Joseph E. Reed

My Messy Room

How quickly my mind returns to chaos

The thoughts in my head jumbling for position

My papers like maps scattered here and there

My table a mass of settled layers of confusion

My laundry muffles the rumbling thud of precision denied, defied, retried, and undermined

Shoes here

A hat there

And my guitar sings amongst them all

Calling for me to dance with her some more

Wait, wait my child

Says my motherly instinct

Must clean your space first

Hold fast my little one

Says the father in me

Hold still until things are all clear

Clearly I have no clear idea about these proceedings

The only children I've ever had were not my own

And the only mess I've had to clean

Has always returned in a day or so

So chaos theory

Fractals and all

Seems to reign supreme

Even in this small, small room

With no windows and only one door to escape through

I am not alarmed

For the pen is mighty

And with her slender glide across this present map

I am able to chart new courses

I am able to illuminate a small path

I am able to unblock a stream

And the polluted ponds and lakes

Gradually churn and spin into rivers and springs

And soon there is fresh water

To refresh my soul

And soon I can arise with new intention

And I can slay the monstrous dragons

That have been oppressing me

The ones I couldn't see until momentarily

And I can jump up and sing

And my guitar with me

And we dance until the space is free

And the clutter is pressed back and tucked away

Away until another day when papers will once again fall like leaves and leave their crumpled stains upon my music stands and grands and tables and chairs and onto the floors in piles among the shoes hats and dirty long sleeved button up shirts and the tie from the last gig that was tossed down in exhaustion.

All this for the next tomorrow

Spring summer fall and chill

Don't worry, the winds will blow again

Joseph E. Reed

May 9, 2010