Insanity

by

Asylum

 

Claudio Mufarrege's "The Arrow Shot"

You bind me

But your walls, your halls they cannot hold me

Body broken but the spirit

Rise, swimming in the deep

Recesses of the forgotten—

Mind: sole reality of prison

You forget, but this soul knows,

It reaches through your gray decay

And in the darkness spring forth wings

To flight, unknown, and I am nothing and no one

But here I am,

These halls

Are mine.

* Photography by Claudio Mufarrege, from her gorgeous photos and interview I conducted with her, as featured on One Stop Poetry.

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Plastic Wreaths

Standing among the plastic wreaths he

searches desperately for life denied

but the rows stretch on into

foreboding; the synthetic

green grows into a maze,

amazing, and he sees the

clerk smiling at him–

no consolation in

the shrubbery

creeping to

Imperfection.

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Nasty Car

Just a quick little thing, in honor of perhaps one of the gaudiest bits of automobile I’ve ever seen driving down the road. Sorry there’s no picture. I was driving down the road myself, you see. I could but marvel at the hideousness:

This tie-dyed madness

less car, more insanity

burning brain cells bright.

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Cubicle Insanity

Such simple cloth can choke

like knotted noose–

half-windsor if you please–

atop the seamless folds,

a wet blanket beaten

by the daily in-voice–

if all the world is held within

these three most bitter walls,

slow insanity

beating a briefcase against the wall.

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Restless Nightmares Break…

A significantly darker piece than what most of my recent work has been, just in time for the first One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Once you’ve had a look, check out One Shot Poetry, too–a bunch of great poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!

Restless nightmares break,

From wretched slumber do I wake

To a world of endless night—

Thunderous choirs make me crouch in fright.

High above us wraiths now soar,

Men clasp their ears to deafen their roar.

Over hills and shattered streets,

The bands come marching to woeful beats.

A hundred thousand voices cry,

Then all the singers die.