Ons and Ons

Oh my god.
I don't know
whether
to weather these
rickshaw ruckuses around the wily wings of my
smiley surfaces with a certain golden gleam
shining, singing, slowly showering suds of
soapy, soupy, stupid, stup-ed, lucid,
putrid room-bas suck, suck, sucking up
sad spills of a sick shepherd, she heard

what words were working to make sense...

no, not these, not me, not needed,
no knees kneeling, knuckles kneading,
no, no nimrods reeling...
righteous revealings, repeating, retreating
really unappealing, I'm feeling

perhaps

if I babble on and on, a flow uncertain,
not too long, and on and on and on a certain point
along the lawn, and on and on, and on and on
I'll find laying on the lawn, and on and on,
a pawn, wide open, arm in arm, and on and on,
and on an arm, a song that's not too long,
and on the lawn, and on and on, i sang a song
a certain song, on and on and on and on
til my breath was off and on and on and off
and on and off and off and on and off and on
and off and off and off and off
so I turned out, off then on

then off

then on

and I tuned out

off
not on
and I passed out
not on
off

and I turned on
not off, but on!
in my head I'm on!
and on! and on! and on!
lift a finger, I can't
but send me off, my head is on!

and if I babble on and on just stop me
til I'm off, but brain is on
and I'll tell you

If I babble on and on I just might find
something certain among the (ons and ons)
with some sort of tact and thought
I'll let you know I'm not just mindless spawn.

I'm on.

I'm off.