Best Idiopathy Poems
I've tried to make words rhyme at the end of their stanzas,
but rhyme wasn't too perfect for those impersonal stanzas,
the Iambic pentameter was right, but it required rhyme for intensity,
so rhyme didn't agree with Iambic pentameter in every verse;
I paraphrased every stanza with a rephrase,
but frustration stepped in with a must of an exact phrase,
oh, can't a stanza rhyme with syllables without a count?
Not exactly the rhyme of Terza Rima as in The Divine Comedy!
Was Dante a perfect rhymer or an impulsive dreamer...
while his love happily played the lyre?
And did that lyre ever fail Beatrice so refulgent and proud?
Or did lovely Beatrice break the lyre?
Then again, vowels became consonants ironically,
and vowels and consonants all out of idealism;
and stressed and unstressed syllables created a strange idiom...
of consonants and vowels spelling out eccentric idiopathy:
the disease so unknown in literature, not idiocy,
but idiopathy became idiosyncrasy...oh, you figure, reader!
The best way to describe myself:
is this insightful awareness
of being too attentive and perceptive
in the middle of conversations;
anticipating words before they are spoken,
astonishing others with my answers...
and my concepts don't offer advice,
but rather a view that some would condemn!
And ideas conglomerate like hardened clay,
to immortalize all thoughts solemnly,
to unite them with a fate of eternity;
and their essence is totally congruent,
not confounding doubt and truth...
conjugating sentences into paragraphs,
to make them conduct an intense light,
through which hope can't condole wittiness,
but conceive a concerted play!
They resent me for my ideology,
and conjure up an effortless idiocy;
and unaware of their idiopathy,
their schemes become so ignominious...
when they can't decode my idiomatic astuteness!
And however apparent is their hypocrisy,
they stammer at my insightful awareness
and see me as...stubborn, hostile and averse!
Perhaps I have exerted excessive cautiousness,
not sneering as they did shamelessly; why do they accuse me
of being rebellious, illusive, repugnant and impervious?
None of these traits make up my personality; and what
is the cause of their enmity towards me...
not complying to their standards of eccentricity?
I put on no guise and avoid turning into a gullible person en masse;
and armed with insightful awareness: I discern every enemy's plot!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci