Saturday, June 6, 2009

When Aberration Was Understood

The shiny young neophytes
were put to the test-
in Freud, Maslow,
and Jungian mystery...

The locked ward,
where offenders were
introduced as archetypes
of insanity's horror.

My interview with a
paranoid prisoner
held my sunny cheer
of freckled and white-capped
innocence in contempt. 
Mephistopheles of motor gang
told me he would
"solder my anus in rape."
In fearless compassion, the question 
of why escaped... I bit my lip
and stayed put...
"are you crazy, I could kill you,"
he shouted. He didn't know
I already died in a dream.

The child of god, a convicted fabulist
spoke in tongues and a grandiose
salad of words. I jotted and listened...
between the lines there was poetic justice.

The zealots in arduous promote
of limbic unfettered, told secrets...
we are ALL god... they whispered in chant.

In catatonic slump and stare, the
young one liked my music in the
final dance party project...
no believed when she moved with
me in a swaying embrace.

The insane back then
seemed normal... elevated
in a solitary confinement of sentience.

I've since learned
that the truly crazy
have made peace
with the surrounding madness;
coaxed by accolades of masked masses.

Not locked in their knowledge,
I throw away the key.


  1. Bravo! The great and subtle wordplay sneaks around this wonderful narrative of the relative insanity of us all. Are you Snarky Barker?

  2. Thank you Mr. Boyd... it's a true story. Yes Snarky Barker is one facet of my day job... the poetry comes whispering in the dark.

  3. Thank you Megan... I have lots of stories to tell.