It’s my mind


Your mind is the most precious thing you own. It defines your perspectives, guides your action and how comfortable you are inside your own head is probably the biggest factor in determining your contentment and happiness throughout your life. 

That’s why, I think, historically, governments of every shade, creed and hue have tried to control it. 

This poem was written in the run up to the 2015 election and, influenced by this, I wanted it to be like a manifesto. A declaration of  our right to take our minds to whatever new worlds we wished. 

It’s my mind

It’s my mind and I shall take it where I

Wish, there is no mental trip, no psychic

Dish you can deny me, I shall see and

Taste whatever I am inclined, I will

Not be defined by  laws  dredged from dusty

Old books, I choose to look at the darkness

And the light, to seek out those places where

There is no wrong or right but experience,

Hence I am nothing less than the cat

Who walks where he wills because…..It’s my mind

These are our minds, and our kind has never

Shied away from new places, so we’re used

To disapproving faces, little gnarled snarls

That say how can you live that way?

I’ve been like this since day one, a seeker

After my truth, none but my own path to walk,

And the talk of the small minded is like

The chatter of birds in my ears, their fears

Are not my fears, their jealousies do not

Hold my interest, so they choose not to

Test the boundaries of who they could be,

They don’t wish to see  distant horizons,

New worlds and secret places, their faces

Will never be lit by the light from far

Off suns, these are the frightened ones, who will

Never spread their wings to fly and what does

Not try, never learns and what never learns

Is dead, why don’t they choose to live instead?

They will never sail upon the seas of

The unknown, be blown into uncharted

Waters, these are not the sons and daughters

Of tomorrow but yesterday’s sorrow

And iron law, so let’s speak of them no more

But instead of the trip to come, where will

We be when this day is done? What songs will

We hear that are as yet unsung, what joy

Will we share, what lovers will come? Dear friends,

Do not fear if, though you try, you have no

Clever words in reply, Nor is the answer

Mine to give, but instead, right here, it’s ours to live.


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