Mindless Streams, I Wonder? Poem by Paul Brookes

the stream of consciousness coils sinuous like a snake,
to wrap meaningless words, dis-articulated bones, slithering across the polar page,
a jumble of sound discordant thumping tom tom rhythms and strident glissandi
shaking the tectonic plates of convention a jarring earthquake of sounds.

fast leading to unknown places, those dark labyrinths where each corridor is endless, to meet itself coming back
or stumble to dead ends the snake eating her own tail.

starting on one path we are led, stepping stone to stepping stone
into the maze moral or otherwise stuck on an island between two streams spiritual and secular flowing with faith or atheism.

words become an intoxicant or rare poison gleaned from the backs of yellow frogs
doors flung open are left like half finished sentences,
their interiors bleak black boned fantasies.
questions answered or not and only vague glimpses seem through the half light writhing like shadow figures, the totems of unseen gods
red hand prints on the walls of caves deep dark primeval places;
where animals vie with antlered humans.

are these the words of seers and visionaries or the tortured thought of the mad but who is to judge their sanity I ask?
so the snake gleams ruby, emerald or saffron scaled a many headed goddess, fangs full of potency, or is it poison, to lead us astray or to enlightenment who can say?