Ying Yang Eye © 2007 Michelle Blaney
Here I am at 28 years, degree within a frame
The air is flowing, oxygen, much oxygen
on the way to healing streetscape
I drink some soda, pop, fizz water which pops
and walk to have respect and to brag
In. The streets look for Freud, House, or me. House
is a fiction, Freud possessing great theories, it’s
Competitive with that power, power on me, I plow
through it, them, as
Anesthesia is being sipped on by a needle now
Thirteen years almost ago, and the man lying
Is looking through the light, & telling
Who would have though that I’d be here, nothing
bleeding though, fractured, everything
Strong, hate, loads of hate, love, power-
levels, a heart of gold,
Up in the wait, resting, working even or not, now
more than ever before?
Not that eye to see, powerful wrapped around brain coat
eyes penetrating at the medal inserted
& pushed in against. Not that beautiful, thirteen, who was
going to have to go, careening into fracture like-so.
To intense, & to imagine for following imagine
so to go. Not that painting who from very first meeting
I would never & never forget or fix & so demanded
into the darkness & so demanded
To it & who will never leave me, not for pressure, nor amnesia
Nor even for short term memory which is
Only our human lot & means forget. No, no that.
There’s a song, “Baby Don’t Cry”, but no, I won’t do that
I am 18. When will I die? I will never die. I will love
To be more, & I will never go away, & you will never escape from me
Who am always & only an intellect, despite this mind. Spirit
Who lives only to drift.
I’m only one voice, & I am first of billions, & I didn’t choose
I overcame
I came into your life to gain knowledge & I did so & now nothing
Stands in my way
To overpower, & gain respect
Voice & freedom, within fate, nevertheless
I over worked my mind
The world’s watching, now prove my power.
