Paloma P Poet Burlesque

Uncomposed Madness

Piercingly epodic passages, 

indistinguishable as snowflakes

to the discerning eye, perceived 

  as  prevised precept,  

distinct misgivings groveling

        about ego's mucky absolution,

 flaunting deeply defiled relevance

  as a sense of self-gratifying  value,

 lost art's impetuous reevaluations mid

     suspicions' efficaciousness

    transference of slurred refrain's

         beat tempo, cascading

  between spaces forgotten &

                 remembrance's sake

   swirled within inky ravishment

       of acknowledged exhalations, 

     melodic memories' unhinged

         metronome arrangements 

played like escaped violin strings on fire,

     the truth will burn a path of

                     whorling relentless reflection

 dancing on quarter tone's double

    sharp notes,          tucked aside

        as life's dispassionate poetry

              unfurls in uncomposed madness

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Jannie Breedt January 7, 2017 at 3:58 AM Always the music and the dancing..that burning violin keeps playing on

Freddie Robinson Jr. December 24, 2016 at 8:46 PM Paloma, is that just your longer way of saying ... all y'all are crazy, but I'm a little more dinged than all of y'all. If so, welcome to this mad, mad, mad, mad world of poetry. "Uncomposed Madness" has a strange beat to it. To know true madness means to be stripped naked of our intellect, thus being unable to construct words to describe the experience of what it's like being in a state of madness. Your poems always spark an existential fire in my soul. A thinker's poem. Love always to you.

Lim'Rik Flats December 16, 2016 at 9:12 AM Nothing like a little mulligatawny madness to mollify the morning muddle. Much obliged ~ j

Chris Green December 16, 2016 at 8:56 AM No direction is indicated as we travel these lines and phrases of poetic madness, turning corners, jumping speed bumps, breaking limits on dark dead end streets only to come to a screeching halt when the ending arrives. Nicely done Paloma