Excerpt for Madness: A Form Of Love, Vol. I by , available in its entirety at Smashwords



















Madness: a form of love



One must still have chaos inside oneself to give birth to a dancing star”

- F.W. Nietzsche

What My Madness Brings
 

Confession is not in my disposition,
Humility isn't for me.
I have too much accusation,
To stoop to mutual sympathy-
To offer up in supplication,
My rightful property,
Or stand before adjudication,
Bowing my head as if I were guilty.
Even if I too have failed in perfection...
It is probably due to thee.

Moreover, it is for the criminals to come forth,
Not for me to bring them to justice.
After all they've done to murder my mirth,
I deserve a medal for my mere lingering existence.

So I don't come before you humbly...
All stuttering, all mumbly.

And though I might like to play the minstrel knight,

I am not one who is made for easy delight.
Though I may often seem only to want to punish grumpily,
In reality, by beating this proverbial shield of tin,
I beseech you to alter course that we may yet win.

 

Hear me now! I am not casting a stone,

Let alone the first. 'tis no violence to merely intone:

I just searchingly bemoan.

(In a forum less likely to get me in the bin thrown)



Like a damaged bird, or dragon hoarding ruby
Rings with its lovely clipped wings,
That from pride and pity
Still breathes fire and sings;
Thus my Judgement Bell loudly
Yet subtly, insidiously dings-

May whatever God lurks see that this tragic ditty
Your lackadaisical consciences sorely stings!

..For the sake of society..
..for the sake of your souls..
..for the sake of your sins..

Pray: Do not refuse me, still less consider me an enemy;
It is only with repentance that true redemption begins.

..Not before me..
..But before each other..
..And, moreover, within..

Oh I know you're working hard, that you've been busy...
But save one more glance for what my "madness" brings!-
If you listen or sleep through it soundly, this is still my duty.

What do I care if you balk or cringe?

Poets - only poets - are permitted to be crazy.


Thus do I sombrely rant and rave,
For in these verses lurks the bitter reconciliation I crave.

Madness: a form of love



Madness is a form of love
It comes from up above
It is wilder than the rose
And gentler than the dove

Madness is a form of love
It carries its own unique truth
It lets the old forget their grief
And makes messiahs of the youth

Madness is a form of love
It longs only to be recognised
Though you try hard not to believe
Or look through another's eyes

..So many years, so many lies..
..Your society is simply overly-sanitized..

Thoughts Of The Unborn



So, finally, I am.

I am ! The universe is alive.

It's my mum.

The world is a throbbing hive,

And I am the Queen bee.

It is made to comfort me.

 

          A multiform, rippling tapestry of veins and nerves,

          Support and nourish each of my incipient verves.

It has been like this since the first moment I can remember,

                   I suck from a cord in my tummy,

          And am granted sustenance so warm and yummy!

       

There is little need to cheat or dissemble.  

No need to pretend I'm not hurt, by the lies that you assert,

                And the chemicals that you insert.

 

I know you love me.

 

Still, with each new passing day,

My hunger grows without delay.

I have already learned to wage war

For the sake of having more, more, more.

 

I summon my strength and send out signals of distress

         Letting life know

It must make expiations for getting me in this sticky mess.

 

I sit snugly in this little patch,

And snatch and snatch and snatch.

 

       Still, it usually yields to the pinings my will wields.

      

       Somehow... I have this dream of wide-open fields,

       Starry skies, hopes that penetrate beyond all whys.

 

But even now, I can already smell my necessary demise.

 

Just as I now joyously grow, soon, I can sense it,

I will be over-run by woe. My existence is a piece of

Brute injustice, of which I am both victim and

perpetrator, righted only by the decomposition of

Passing years.

 

So let it not shock you, if I mark my new arrival with...

 

       Much blood, and many tears!

 

Just More Meds

The police hand-cuff me and sling me in the back on their van.
The van speeds off, I struggle to breathe and they don't give a damn.
Us damned, so-called demented souls have practically no rights-
Though it might seem right, it is however self-defeating to put up a fight.
Battling for air I try to reason with the chimp behind the wheel;
Wheeling around and around like a rat in a cage of steel.
Stealing is still illegal, but kidnapping has become a societal norm.
Normally they all just follow orders like those Troopers-Storm.

The storm through my nerves a tempest swirls, ripping my soul to shreds.

Get lucky I'll have shreddies for breakfast, but mostly just more meds.


Shrinking Between The Lines



Yes, Doctor, I'm doing very well;
Please don't give me those pills,
That send me straight to hell.
(You are not the man to cure my ills.)

Yes, Doctor,
 I'm going out a lot,
Don't put me in one of those rooms,
Where they feed you through a slot.
(When I come here I smell doom.)

No, Doctor, 
I am not 'seeing things' ,
And, I would never consider praying.
I don't believe in angels on wings,
(I try not to see anything at all.)

 

***

Of courseDoctor, you are a man of the mind,

(You're so sharp you could have diagnosed
Leonardo Da Vinci With ADHD, imagine what

He would have achieved on 'adequate doses'...)

 

But *ahem* forgive me, Doctor..

(All you ever do is talk about my boner.)
All of histories heroes you've yet to find.

(...Have you even read your Homer ?)



((No, I don't mean the people who's testicles you used to electrocute.))

The Phantom



As a child, fear of ghosts kept me oft awake, yet as in a daze:
It was my mistake, my horrible haze.
(Oh! The errors
Of our terrors...)

As I grew, I tasted the fruit, the courage,
Of a kind snake.

I became the salutary outrage
of eternal light.
I unravelled the finer mysteries
That 
shrink from sight
And made peace with the night
That had threatened
To keep us ever wettened
And white.

But as we had exited the darkened cave
To claim our birthright, no longer a slave,
A new monster finally gave

Us a reason for our until-then false fright.
And though we fought with all our might
The fiend broke the beautiful, dancing kite
That we had sent out as our emissary into the Light,
And it fell from a lofty peak
Back into the terrible Night !

Now it is fallen apart at the "seems" -
They think they know which way my heart leans
But see only their own troubled dreams
I would wean them from their fusty schemes if I only had the means...

Is there nothing uncanny in this old charade ?
Or will I even keep them up "on-ward"?

If they only knew
The terrors
Of their errors...
They would never sleep soundly again.

Now I am a phantom,
A vaporous myst, obscuring the earth, that wants only to chase others from their stuporous repose
But, for a moment, I was a kid of considerable ken!


Anthem For Drugged Youth



What, unpassable pills for those who die as chattel?
Only the monstrous laughter of the guards.
Only the deaf docs poisonous prattle
Can patter about their cramped wards.
But mockeries now for them; no Vitamin B checks,
Nor any voice of dawning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing lunatics;
And sirens calling for them above police tires.
What kindness may be granted to heal them all?
Not by the hands of Shamans, but by these henchmen, 
Shall be done things we hardly dare mention.
Their naive trust in society has been their downfall;
Their flowers the grist on which its machine grinds,
And each slow dusk, a snuffing out of minds. 

All Quiet On The Frontal Lobes



A battle was fought: his Medulla oblongata versus an electrical socket.
The electrical appliance distributors made a racket. So did his screams. 
But its pure, scientifically certified - who am I to besmirch and mock it ?
From now on his ol' rumbustious spirit won't be harbouring queer memes.
It'll be pliant, malleable, ductile. The vibrant brio, fizz of magnetic emotion,
Will have dissipated with the deafening circuit of cerebral electrocution. 
They'll be no more fuss, no mayhem from his once truculent warrior soul;
The trenches are filled with the fallen, but walking graves no longer howl. 



Save a care and don't help, don't even help the helpers


You want to help,
But only on your terms.

You feel obliged to invalidate my unusual opinions,
To look askance at my world-view. 

Can kindness be mixed with so much disrespect?
You're a yellow-belly, Mr., your anathemas should be more direct. 
I don't want your pity, when you treat me like shit.
Come on, be a man: round us all up and gas me, just like your predecessors did it.

Either value my mind or leave me alone. 
I am not your pet, I am not your dog.
No man is built to have his very sense of reality derided.
Do you still think we're unter-mensch, half animal? 
Of course you do. 

Let's be honest: you wheedle and trick your way 
Into the ways of men for base profit.
At heart you're a cold-blooded, intolerant monster.
You don't care about me, what good is a charge you don't rate?
Do you get weepy now and then at the thought of our poor plight? 
Yeah right! (Though you might act it)
You're just too money-grasping to say 'no'.
And you don't even have the decency to admit it....
Possibly even to yourself: now that's frightening! 

If you ever do feel an ounce of genuine sympathy,
It is only because of your own base, animal nature,
Which you project onto poor unfortunates like me. 
And, no doubt, it is only for a moment;
We can both be damn sure you never let it conflict with your 'duties'. 

You're preying upon the best instincts of humanity,
To nurture and care; And turning them into the worst instincts
Of humanity, to control and subdue. 
Let the families deal with their own mess,
And see if they have the stomach to do what you do. 

Or whether their better natures shine through.


Gaudy