Lookin within

In the estuaries of mind
Lies a volcano hidden
Under layers and layers of
Words and thoughts
Thoughts and words
And graphics churned out
By invisible eyes

The simmering lava
Sometimes
Budges, bickers, bounces, bursts
At other time
Nibbles, nudges, nitpicks
Some other time
Incites, ignites, instigates
And many more times
Is dormant, demure, drowsy, drugged
Many other times
A numbness settles down
Like sediments under a river bed
In those times
It is amenable, amicable, alert, accepting
Apathetic and almost amorphous

But the question is
Out of these which is me?
Oh! But I forget
In between these phases
Juggle dreams, cropping up
Like unwanted weeds
Bizarre imagery
Of lines, dots, strokes, curves
Half etched, half done,
On a pristine canvas
I suggest that's me
The echo half heard vanishing into the blue
Perhaps its all of those and none
Bits, pieces, morsels, incomplete
A whole or a conglomerate
Or crumbs of something
Absolutely unknown.....

You've captured the indecisiveness of writing well with this, I thought the excessive alliteration was an amusing reference to the process, although I didn't pick up on the meaning immediately. I think we have to crumble internally, in order to create successfully. I apologize if my reading is incorrect, but either way, well done.

I liked this poem, there were some fantastic lines, like "the echo half heard vanishing into the blue." But there were some lines I felt you could have snipped out and the poem wouldn't have lost anything, like "I suggest that's me" and "some other time, "and many more times" and "many other times." Also, the alliteration felt forced. That may have been intentional, to reflect how difficult it is for the volcano of self-expression & creation to erupt beneath the onslaught of external media?

Thanks, deryk and everyadventure, for your esteemed critique