In Defense of Stray Thoughts

Thoughts are not clouds against the sky, they push up against my feet so I say they are the ground.
Watch as illusions, conclusions and contusions blossom when from my lips leak creation sound.
Words wielded as weapons are no more weak when whispered, or so I have found,
thus it is neither volume nor vibration, but thought to which the soul is bound.
I am not mindful nor am I mindless,
don't confuse my distraction as being thoughtless,
my scattered psyche and tangent trails are a form of progress.
Moving on from a single volition is not a symptom of weak decision, I must confess,
had I not divergent dedication and meandering meditation I would need medication and be pointless.
There are those who would have me be pointless though,
and if I were we would never grow.
I do not want to simply hand out lines for you to toe,
nor do I was to hand out neatly wrapped gifts tied with a bow.
See I would rather have you say "I think" rather than "I know."
How many times have I heard: "You got somethin' kid so with your points be blunt."
Sadly, my mind does not speak in gesture and grunt.
You could learn lessons from non-linear lyrics that loop backwards like they're asking "why only approach from the front."
Don't tell me that my mind is tattered,
because I have never thought that mattered,
and it was never simplicity with which woeful worlds were shattered.
I am told that I have a problem with ambiguity,
probably because I seek to make a throne for it in my poetry,
and I am fond of double entendre, which means I lack maturity.
I seek to make you question mind, soul and authority.
How is this for a work out? Can you flex your morality?
Are you no longer relishing this relative reality?
Are you enjoying this taste of true authenticity?
Come and join me in the writing community.
I understand if your can't get a grip or handle me,
but if you do see yourself as sky, strong, blue and free,
than I hope I have done nothing else than made you cloudy.