Anatomy of Poetry By An Imbecile

Do I refer to a note? How do I know what to say? And then, do they expect me to quote From some obscure latin text Which no one would understand anyway? I should have been a giant chainsaw Cutting through the trunk of a thousand trees. How do you interpret the fall of an empire? The end of an age? Or the beginning of one? How do you prove there’s a third side to things Flitting between rhyme and reason On filigree wings? Do they think single mothers never dote? Do they think blind politicians do not vote? What should I say? What goes unsaid? At the next auction I’ll put down a price for my head. Abstract abstract poetry And blank blank verse An angel’s blessing A gypsy’s curse. Rhymes and ramblings go hand in hand While non-existent footprints get erased from the sand The night is always creepy, the day sublime. In the patio old ladies chime Talking of doctors and smelling of lime. Hearts ache, drowsy numbnesses pain And promises fly over miles to be kept. Out flow webs and float far and wide And woods just wait to be swept. Will they criticize it? Will they ostracize it? Will it be written up or written down? I’m fortunate: there’s a year - long waiting list For the only mental hospital in town.