Stuck In The Middle With...

Stuck in the Middle With …

“Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right
Here I am, Stuck in the Middle with you”

I look around my home and see and touch
material objects to which I am attached.
I smell scents and sense I am not alone with my thoughts as
I listen to Stealers Wheels’ “Stuck in the Middle with You”
stuck in the middle of my mind
like some Amusement Park Ferris Wheel.

I am stuck in the middle with
only irreverent rainbows for my tour guide.
Though I believe that the soul never dies and
its’ energy is transformed into some other formation,
I am often pushed to the lonely edge of my sanity,
staring down over the rocky cliff into oblivion.

In its’ essence, this poem only deals with this physical body,
in this cognizant moment in time on earth,
when I reach for some recognition that I am here,
that I am akin to skin and bone and blood and gut,
and not just wispy, spinning spirit stuck in the middle,
choosing between life and death.

Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
February 8, 2016