Stream Of Consciousness Writing

Tried something new today!
I am crazy and bananas for writing songs and poetry, reports, any thing, I love to write. Mostly poetry. I don't really have a form of writing, like a structure, I don't even really rhyme too much. Perhaps that stems from my father's disdain of lyrics that rhyme, so after that, I tried to exclude that form from my writing. However, I am pretty open to it, I just don't want to rhyme in a typical way, moon and June, hold me in your arms and your many charms. Charms! Lord!
  When I was crocheting, I remembered a video I saw on writing awhile back, it talked about songwriting and how Paul Simon used Stream Of Consciousness writing to write some of his songs. Well. I really admire Paul Simon's epic songs. My favorite song writers include him, Paul Williams, Joe South, Tony Romeo, and the Lou Christie/Twyla Herbert songwriting team.
  I'm getting off topic. So I thought, lemmee look up how to Do this stream stuff, see what kind of stuff this Paul Simon dude was getting into.
  Stream of Consciousness is exactly what it sounds like. You take a paper, pen, pick a topic and write WHATEVER pops into your head, without breaking, without censor or punctuation or even going back to correct your spelling. Only with pen and paper, computers or iPods are not recommended, it's hindering, less personal.
  So I gave this thing a go, I will share with you the three notebook pages that I had completed, no stopping, even though it was late and I had a massive headache.
  Here we go.
It's so vast and high when it hits the very peak of the Roman cathedral's ceiling, warm in notes, has my vote such richness to course through some chilly creek veins the rain was tempting today wet on the stairs shoes did not slip, money well spent I could scratch the arc and dome of the sky with the love in music my eardrums had felt, if I could see it bright colors could dance and rhapsodize in front of my very so many thoughts could make their way through dontcha love the way the bells and horns make your eardrums feel coffee and egg nog and old days and new days, drag lace curtains up and over my eyes in the dead hours of morning before the stirring can begin, the red headphones drawn tight over my little ugly ears, so much love had they felt enjoyed music had not destroyed back in prehistoria sure now can imagine, do imagine, almost ashamed, but healthy and smiling and drawing from a place non focusing as one should, keep all hidden, it's a drag across the linoleum flirt, a drag a drag, only solace to be found, so many songs so intricately planned, well done and pretty and moving can't get the words out of my pen can't wake up where I want in the fresh morn, I'd stay forever if I could don't want to pass into death fore I'm kissed lavender rose colors scope mouthwash curls readied can make something so grandiose and beautiful and the music will carry and carry strong like the mules in the mines, the mines, strong men's work can carry in the past random historical thought how odd can ya get to get back on a track desire country walks and drag me running through the lilacs and dandelions, messes of down home Polk salad girl can dream, its wrong, wrong, wrong to dream or want desire be confident love others love oneself wrong wrong wrong and anger but the music stood the test of time tangles my heartstrings in a wondorous way cut me open dance out the music from my stitches, gaping hole in my chest did the Big Man in the throne expell laugher? Music dance out walk the country walk take my hand for it begs for something a long time it begs can't admit what tears fell for but the music lifts and hits the ceiling hard.