"Metro Mind" | Spoken Word Poem [Thank you for 100k]
3,246 views · Published 17 August 2018 · 9:13 · Indexed 8 October 2026
Channel: The Pop Song Professor · 2018 · Education
Does your mind ever feel like a city metro? It’s rush hour and it’s not easy to let go Of a thousand feelings and thoughts Like aimless tourists wandering lost Getting on and off at every stop And you swear You see the same ones again and again You smile and nod as if to acknowledge But it’s awkward, and you remember this all is How life goes after college A job is the goal that you got And the prize that you sought is yours ‘Cause you’ve bought a car and a house With a mortgage And considering the shortage of reliable busses The metro is one of those considerable plusses Contributing to a speedy commute But these tourists are awful, and truly the worst is —Oh, look one’s doing it now; let’s educate her— “Don’t stand and stop on the left side of the escalator Walk on the left and stand to the right.” And theoretically, your brain should obey The thoughts should go away And there’d be nothing else to say Except, “Wow, I’m having a really great day.” But the thoughts—they have a mind of their own And they all start running backwards And riding on the railing And their children are flailing and wailing And this simple escalator ride out of the metro —Will you ever forget? No. Maybe it’s time to move away from the city. Speaking of unwanted feelings and thoughts, Back when I lived by myself before marriage I used to wake up with a mind disordered And a slimy feeling—it bordered On guilt for something I hadn’t recorded It felt like spiderwebs—gross and gray Until I took a warm shower and washed it away I wouldn’t feel it again until the next morning Yet despite all the soap and scrubbing, it kept reforming. When I married April I didn’t notice at first, but I was suddenly able To wake up feeling good and clean and clear (Even though I actually shower less now.) The feeling stopped for like two and a half years. And I don’t know why, but it’s come back now And I find myself unable to track how It comes and goes and what it’s about It’s changed, and I try to figure it out But instead of coming as I open my eyes It’s about 5pm that innocence apparently dies Wow! Dramatic. I know. But it’s true: the new worst part of every day Is finishing work and finding my way Down the stairs, out the door. To the parking garage second floor On the way home, I try to ignore A feeling I can’t account for It leaves me listless, it’s vicious I feel despised and guilty and full of lies and filthy But what for? Is there something I forgot? Was I too lazy? Did I work slow? Am I not good enough for a standard I don’t know? Thankfully, the cure is walking through my front door And spending about fifteen minutes in the same house as April I know it sounds like a kitschy, stupid fable, But I don’t argue with what works. I just wish I understood it. As you can see, my mind is a confusing place And that’s stupid ‘Cause my brain shouldn’t be confused by itself. And yet here I am Six years running—world’s most confused man Let me get obvious and blunt inartistically A few of you will probably get this statistically But I want to make my meanings clear Do you have feelings you can’t explain? Does your mind hit you on the head? Throw you in the trunk? And drive away? I know part of the solution you maybe won’t like ’Cause it’s never easy to choose between two sidelines But here’s what I’ve got: My advice is to do what I just did now. Summarizing and labeling your feelings Is the first step Of an internal, emotional experiment Describe them. Try to understand. And if you can’t, that’s okay, man, not everyone can At first. But try. And if you need to, You should Turn off YouTube Turn of me too And do things that we do When we need to see through Distraction and passion And things that are crashing Around us Like castles under siege Keeping us from being What we were meant to be You know what I mean Find those moments of clarity When we dare to see That our thoughts and our lives are more than they seem
