A Touch of Madness

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” 

~Mark Twain

A portrait of the American writer Mark Twain t...

A portrait of the American writer Mark Twain taken by A. F. Bradley in New York, 1907. http://www.smithsonianeducation.org/publications/siycfall_05.pdf http://www.twainquotes.com/Bradley/bradley.html See also other photographs of Mark Twain by A. F. Bradley taken in March 1907 in New York on Mark Twain Project Online. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Gambol Song

Beneath our hungry shore

between life and grass

more skin blossoms.

Leap off moon–

man is wild,

a gambol

song.

* My latest submission for the great gathering of international poets known as One Shot Wednesday. Short but sweet, and more than little cooky to more than a few of you, I’m sure, I give unto you “A Gambol Song”, my latest bit of free verse.

To Compose

Causing pain

is the nature of the note—

the pianist sits, prepared for murder

 

in operatic trespasses

he hears the Valkyrie ride,

her spear the thrust of baritone blast

 

piercing stars, like silver tears rain

 

It rolls down to earth,

 

a Resurrection, a stirring in the madness,

this flurry writhe:

a man might grow hollow on the glee

 

Destroying and Rebuilding—

Creation in the up-tempo swell,

 

but he cannot afford to think—

all crumbles to analysis.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community.  Enjoy! And while you’re at it – vote for us in the Shorty Awards…we have a chance to take Number 1 in Art!

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.

Of Frustration

Writhing serpent of my dissolution

No solution

To your pollution

Of my ever-yearning soul

No more grim atoll

Might ever seize upon my whole—

My life, my life!

They call upon the fife

Thrusting its notes upon the edge of a knife

No travail

Might ever prevail

Above the madness that assail

My spirit wails, unfit

To persevere and to submit

To all the hopes that you have writ.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!

We the People

The following poem was inspired by this article recently written by the BBC: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11288744.

We the People

Have come to the conclusion

Hunger

Madness

Agony

This cycle of destruction

Is all too much for us

Unacceptably inflated

We must rise to put it down.

Ideas? Why

Whatever do you mean?

It is wrong,

So bitter wrong

But that is all to say

We wish that it were

But have nothing to insist

The prices rise

The people die

And here we sit

These desks, emaciated lie

Between us and

The world.

Existential Freedom

Existential elation

The night’s revelation

Soul’s sweetest evocation

Mind longs to improvise

To sleep, yet rise

Above the lies

Until we admit

The body is unfit—

Do not think to hear it

To bear the broken madness

Never fail to aggress

This fairest stress

To break the blind

That stalks the mind

May yet free mankind.

* For the first Monday Poetry Potluck!

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.

Bliss Amiss

What bitter bliss,

this thought amiss–

dreams as simple as a kiss–

but if I gave my heart to you

I’d have to know that you’d be true–

could not ever bear to woo

the heartbreak and the pain

I’ve in this madness before lain,

hoping without gain.

I could not be like him,

cannot make trust a whim–

if I know love, than it must brim.

And if you cannot see

the simple creature that is me

I beg of you to simply let me be.