The writings of Oddpoet

I’m sit­ting next to a mad­man
His eyes are implor­ing
Wild
They see every­thing
Col­ors talk to him
Tell him secrets never revealed to me
Sto­ries about
The Moon God­dess and the Stone Boy
Tales I would die for
Tales I will never know

Time flows like mon­strous ten­drils
Clutch­ing at him
He fights them off
They don’t stop
Clutch­ing, grab­bing, seek­ing…
His arms wave inces­santly
Even when

He lies down
closes his eyes
But I know
They never stop see­ing
His spit­tle mar­ries the cold con­crete cell floor
Human com­fort an alien thought
He is some­where else
Always

Some ignore him
Most laugh
I can’t
Col­ors roll off him
Mourner’s Black
Blood Red
And blues
Blues from a sky I have never seen
Greens from fields only Gods can trek

They come for him
Take him wher­ever they take mad­men
Plugged into a machine some­where
Talk­ing to aliens
Sell­ing stock futures

The cell set­tles into drab gray
And dreary same­ness
fuck sto­ries and jail terms
But
No madman…

Tags: conformity, eternity, madness, magic

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 21st, 2010 at 4:43 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.