February
7, 1983 3:35 p.m.
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
State of Mind
I might feel happy, I might feel
real sad
Think life is ripe, think all the vibes are bad
Might feel a surge, a rich romantic hold
Might feel as if my turgid soul is sold.
It's all as if I have my own detector
But the knob fell off of the channel selector
Don't send your love to the P.O. box this time
Because I no longer live in my own
State of Mind.
I glimpse the children playing on
the street
No misdirection clawing at their tiny feet
I claw my brain, a lump climbs up my throat
They look so happy but I just missed the boat
It's all as if I am my own detractor
I lost the device to measure this important factor
Don't look me up if you're afraid of what you find
Because I lost the address to my own
State of Mind.
I might stay quiet, I might say
a lot
I might think it's right but the meaning's not
Might lose the grasp to my own solutions
While wading through the mire of the others' pollutions
It's all as if I don't care what's correct or
Maybe lost the keys to my own private sector.
Don't call my number cause there's no one on the line
Because I'm tearing up the map to my own
State of Mind.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
ElectricPoetry
AllThingsMike Homestead Version of poem