Scrambled Brain/Keep the Faith, a Poem

Scrambled brain, it hurts. No more prose; that’s for pros. Instead, here, words unwed, strewn together in a swirl of clattering sound. Often not particularly profound. Some kind of rhyming, rocking back and forth in a hidden section of the gray matter. As if it matters. I mean, does anyone really care? Hopefully.

Pain is the name of the game – inescapable brain pain. Trapped in tiring, perspiring, repetitive notions, both tied and untethered from reality. Fealty to a broken enigma of thought. In a word, distraught. A need to be retaught or untaught or deconstructed and reconstructed. Whatever. Call it inclement mental weather.

Storms of the physical type blow in. Fighting them is noble. Winners fight the physical odds. But when the static is in the attic, hmmm, a sense of snickering heard and the smothering oppression of an inability to fight the mind’s lack of sufficient agility. Instead, smoldering soul death. Spirit leaking drip by drip from a faucet of rust coated thought. The premise, righteous. Yet, the pieces do not fit. Term it impractical wit. Questions existential can get us in a snit.

An internal, strangled scream, asking for the Maker to help us in making sense of it all. The subtext of the answer we suspect will be “Stand tall.” A quest for a sign of affection, a cosmic love. The symbol, perhaps a white dove. The desire for help along with the inability to ask for it. A feeling of helplessness coupled with a resistance to hopelessness. Without persistence less likely is existence.

Diminished yet around. Weakened but not without resilience. Confused in general. A word to sum up this all up, as well as what is written above: Human. Human all too. Human me and you. Confused, daunted, scared, scarred, troubled, hopeful, joyful, forward looking, past lamenting, too little or too much venting, weak, powerful, loving, analytical, emotional, human. Human. All too human.

And so it goes. Bear hope. Bare hope. But do not barely hope. Instead, surrender to the mystery and do your best. This, ultimately, is the cosmic behest. The human race. At times a puzzle. At times a stroll. At times a sprint. Yet always a marathon. Get moving. Keep moving. Keep the faith.

Image courtesy of [ddpavumba] /

*Authors note: You might see this column pop up online in a newspaper, under the name Both Sides. I am publishing this column here first at For a bunch of years, I have been writing newspaper columns. Since my columns have received a good response on CYInterview, I thought I would share it with you. Hope you enjoy.

You can reach me with your questions and comments at Like today’s column? Check back frequently.