I am confused tho' I'm sort of in tune with what
I'm doing - before falling into an Alzheimers &
dementia hole - and as I correct my translation
I can' trecall which page came first and where
the original is - I'm definitely in need of the
Mysterious ICP protocol to restore my mind or
I must fast-forward to eternity through death by
default as the electrons in my head spin out of
control; the repetitive words in my text give rise
to a variety of almost-right renditions - but I
Know the clever word analytics can shred it and
rewrite in a better way which will make life seem
smaller, more contained, less open to innovation,
and completely closed to infinity exactly as they
think it should be - as we never get to see the
Dimensions of Eternal Thoughts floating around
for evermore according to modern spiritualists -
who believe that hallucinations offer portals to
these places but I wish the fog in my head would
clear since it feels as if I'm falling into a whirlpool
Turning prayer wheels, winding out time before
turning back to catch the slack & preserve time
again yet with no chance to get to mental feet
as life swirls in these transcendental pinwheels
converging wherever we human beings come
Together - a flickering behind my eyelids indicate
it's time to break & drink yak-butter soup, my only
link to Lobsang Rampa's spiritual Tibetan world,
even if the butter didn't originate from a yak…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem