Mind's Rapping Gavel

This poem has already been peer-reviewed

by nothingness...the mind's rapping gavel...

order in its courtroom has been silenced.

A bird overtakes that space where its

flapping wings will make noise, or not--

the mind thinks itself subtle in its death throes.

Pfff...word...pfff...pfff...words--the Light of

consciousness is on...who's home should

acknowledge an interchangeable residence.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

a wonderfully descriptive piece of work here...I often feel that my mind is on trial and I also sometimes believe that although I am perfectly coherent, there is no-one at home

[M Breen]

Ah, so that implement is a 'gavel'. The poem swivels a harsh prison spotlight back on itself and on its writer. And most effectively leaves the reader cataloging the empty room in his own skull.
Excellent work.

[Onoma]

I couldn't ask for a more perceptive review...my deepest gratitude.

[.]

~ "the light of consciousness is on" in all your poems, Sire... stunning work...

[Onoma]

The interchangeable residence of that light is always overjoyed when you appear.

[.]

~ thanks a million for the compliment, Sire... it means a lot to me... :)