November 28, 2012

poem 433 of a poem a day for 2012

art by Santiago Caruso ©

channeling a short wave radio Randall McMurphy

so what if crazy
is all I might ever be
a man mentally ill
seemingly meant
not to see his way
past the diversions
so while this term
may just be
a much more polite
and soft spoken
corrective-language-
police-measured
delegation
of an emotional 
state of being
I don't like it

and even if
I am crazy
being called
mentally ill
is much worse
than being called
just plain ol’ crazy
for this is what fits me
what goes into my divinities
my molecularly drives
my sacrificing everything
for a love
of demon laughter
for the chase
of my version 
of life-ever-hungry
a gutter parade
a willed to wanted charade
repeating over
and over everything
I am not supposed
to speak out loud
a monologist
a backwards proud
a weather vane
serenading the wind
to be mine
to be my
robust observer
in severing time
 so crazy 
can serve me and
my broken lips
my broken teeth
my chipped cups
my trying hard
not to drink
every reaction in
bleeding out
losing myself
to thirst
worn away
in a silent 
manufacturing
of everyone saying 
he is crazy too

this way I can slip 
beneath whispers
beneath wonders why 
 chaos can be 
charming shadows
beneath wonders why 
there are many 
that can come
by this way
where it is 
easy to say 
too often
too certain
that colored behavior
is dysfunctional soul
trying to gather 
lost focus over 
olds roads and
conventional maps


EJR ©

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