Eons from my mind

 This space blue green
warm amoeba of a room
No finished thoughts to preen
No life conclusion to further groom

My faceless and formless dreams
My plight for a creative boom
Not a bright color have I seen 
Tongue sweeps like a broom

Any flavor that I might glean
From shallow dawn to deep fragrant noon
squeeze a drop hour of it somewhere inbetween
The day a big face poking imposing features loom

I´ll ask my mind opaque to wake and tell me what it really means
cognition a patient snake, bite down and spit it out soon
expecting me also to wait both unmoved and unkeen
Hinting at the dull, foreseen and assumed

Give me freedom to drift in this mind that blooms sublime marine
Weapons of mass destruction to brighten obscenely this gloom
Reignite my imagination plume machine
fertile as the fecund racine womb

break my chains shatter my unseen tomb
My words´ll tickle the earth soon like an eternal routine