Best Madman Poems
Ode to the Madman
It was heaven in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees and I was in hell.
But heaven was in sweltering Palm Springs.
And I tasted nectar and ambrosia, both,
Under the dauntless palms.
I took in the majesty of the gods
As they bowed to each other,
Like kow-towing Chinamen in white robes.
I took in the flames and the feathers, both.
I took in the shadows and the spotlights of the stabbing sun.
The book was Women by Bukowski.
I lounged by the winking, blue-eyed pool,
Eyeing the half-naked women in bikinis,
Reading the drunken madman,
Sipping daiquiris on ice
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.
The way she walked as she brought me my drinks,
Was a Revelation and a turn-on, both.
It seemed, as I discerned from her big-breasted body language,
That she already knew the answers to life’s unasked questions.
That she had already traveled
To the farthest star in the galaxy.
That she had already tasted the wine of eternal wisdom.
Yes, it was the way she walked.
Bukowski would’ve smiled and said:
“Comon honey, let’s dance!”
I was in heaven and in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees, and I sweated.
But I saw paradise under the dauntless palms.
Ode to the madman!
“I sip this daiquiri in your name.”
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.
This is done in the Rubaiyat style.
The mind of a madman
Lurking deep within my mind,
Are demons, sometimes hard to find,
They go by many names,
And they come out to visit from time to time.
The demons are angry with me,
Transformed me into what you see,
Their names are Anger and Rage,
They haunt me deeply.
These two emotional fiends,
Make me seem awful and mean,
That’s not me!
It’s these two, they go unseen.
Anger and Rage are brothers; Twins,
They have hideous faces, evil grins,
They fight with each other, all day,
I am always the villain; I can’t win.
God put me in this room,
A nice little padded tomb,
They make me bang my head against the wall,
” God, birth me from this horrid womb.”
These people come at night,
You know, the ones in white,
They stick me with needles,
They have to tie me down, the demons hate the light.
Anger and Rage did a bad thing; awful.
One day, they started to rumble,
Things got way out of control,
Cain killed Abel.
Now, they think I’m a danger.
Justice is what they hunger,
For the bad things these demons did.
Why can’t they understand my horror?
I want to end this pain,
It is time for me to kill Cain,
But the people in white won’t let me!
They just call me insane.
Written By: Samual Ronthorpe
© 2011
Falling fast blind rush of speed
dry earth nurtures not the seed
unclaimed discarded unbequeathed
the bounding heart belies the deed
Too late we hear the mouse trap's spring
garbled song the madman sings
as endless as his golden ring
frantic flutter broken wing
The smell the stench of rotting flesh
the milky sweet of baby's breath
juxtaposed and viewed against
unblinking eye of vacant death
The song of a madman
how shall I sing
when I do not know what the day will bring
tossed to and fro
which way will I go
who would have thought
who would have dreamed
that everything that happened before
hadn't happened as it seemed
and to know or not know
pains my soul
but in the storm I will dance
each day brings a second chance
to prove the doctor's prognosis wrong
so I have to sing my song:
the song of a madman
HELLO BRAIN
Brain, o dear darling overworked brain,
Slow down, why are you trying to drain
Me, that grey mass of matter that i need,
Three hundred and sixty-five days, indeed,
A full year, so don’t send me into overdrive,
I have only one life to live and want to survive.
Do you think you can teach me to relax,
No, i am not working out what i owe in tax,
That will stress me, what did you say,
That i cannot repeat, have you no morals,
I cross no boundaries and nor should you,
Cheering me up you are not doing,
In fact, you have made my mood so blue.
You think, I think that world politics are crazy,
Well, they are, not like a walk in the park,
Or pulling up a daisy,
Takes just one madman to bring our planet
To its knees,
No more life on earth, no humans or animals
Insects, oceans mountains plants or trees.
Brain can you imagine, just total devastation,
Stop me thinking like this, for I am afraid,
I’m not bold, forward, or brazen.
HI THERE,
I am always what you wish me to be,
For it is your mind your brain, don’t you see,
I am just the voice in your brain, i interpret
All that you think, i am simply a portrait
Of you, what your innermost thoughts are,
And they do reach the sublime, and rather far,
You want to do away with the Russian president,
Good luck with that, as easy as a cat in a hat,
And that is no easy feat,
And i won’t allow you this crazy indulgent treat,
For i happen to love you and the way you think,
Even if you want to bring us to the brink
Of war, and i am so proud when
You get poem of the day,
It is your grey matter that earns you this,
And i seal this with a kiss.
I wouldn’t want to be in anyone else’s head,
As a brain, some have little, that i would dread.
If i am suggestive, I am sorry, but you control me,
So, i am neutral, I am neither he, or a she,
But at the end of the day
Whatever you think or say
Is what your brain decides to be,
The sum-total of you and me.
If I were a madman they would lock me up for sure
they would take one look at my face and say “what's wrong with her”
I would defend myself but then they would see past my plea
I would be shut up by myself and I would talk to...well... me
If I were a madman I would want to take a stand
and prove that I'm the sane one and the rest don't understand
stop trying to control things, money, debt delight
why can't I make my own life, why can't I fight my fight
If I were a madman I would hide it from the rest
inside I would toil away but on the out I'd be the best
I might be inwardly concerned about my reputation
but if I got that bad I wouldn't care about my mental mutilation
If I were a madman I might enjoy the sadness
after all “no great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness”
somehow I'd crave insanity like no one ever should
though if that thought didn't tip me off I don't know what ever could
If I were a madman, and must tell the truth to you
I don't quite know how to break this, but I assure you that it's true
I will tell you now so I can say I haven't lied
I've always been a madman, I've just hidden it inside
In ninety thirty nine
German tanks rolled over my country
Many have died
The strongest were killed first
For they offered most resistance
Meanwhile Stalin supposedly our allay
Had thousands of elite Polish officers killed
We were left with nothing
Dictatorship prized obedience
Only moderately aggressive I fit in
Not knowing the horrors of the war and after
Not knowing
How hard my parents struggled
To put food on the table
Ignorance is bliss
I heard wonderful stories about America
Why did they make up those stories?
Said by rich tourists who did not see beneath the façade
Thought obedience and submission
I was not ready for rat race
Having unusual first name
Did not help in Poland
Nor America
Other Polish people fighting for scraps
From America’s table
Betrayed me
Smartest were persecuted the most
Athletes were spared sometimes
Hypocrisy ruled
The language came slowly
I still don’t know how to spell
And in any case to me it makes little sense
Now the new war came
I’ feel sorry for my countrymen going to war
As I feel sorry for Americans
It seems United States finally met enemy like themselves
Whoever wins I will lose
But my voice will not be silenced
Even if I like the silence
Trapped like bird in a cage
My vision will never form
I’m not even sure
If I still have one
But if this small quantum of solace
This tiny chance
Will come true
My vision will be formed
Will I be king?
Who gives this wretched world?
The monster it deserves
Or will I seek peace
In harmony with this which in this world is beautiful
Either way the choice will be mine
Staggered by the virus burning through the city veins,
Stop motion, speeded up, the slam of distant trains,
Rattled through the concrete as forgotten people die,
Howling jets of power chords go crashing through the sky.
The cardboard jungle stretches out along the seamy streets,
Where grimy flesh of down and outs use newspapers for sheets
And sleep with crazy fetishes that slice and dice the skull,
Narcosis bred by pills and soup make all the senses dull.
The rail-yard cauldron simmering with cabbages and rats,
Skin and fur of vermin bleeding protein in the vats,
It tastes of pulped up sewer waste distilled by Mr Hyde,
The methylated spirits put some flavour back inside.
Leaned up against the siding now corroded through with rust,
The corrugated blackened bones of asbestos and dust,
Insanity, reality, all sympathy gone up in flames,
Lunacy screams at the moon and calls the symptoms names.
Down here it doesn’t matter what the poets choose to write,
The road to hell is paved with good intentions every night,
The only thing that means a damn is death will set us free
Of all the madman chronicles of sociology.
He lives
on lies
and deceit
and the little
frauds
that make
the madman
complete.
I hold the raging’s -
of this madman-
contained -
within these walls-
Painting only-
pleasant masks -
upon his face
The genius is -
it works so well-
That sanity -
no one can tell-
has slipped beyond -
my horizon’s reach
Logic’s been-
the only guard -
maintaining order here -
It’s structured rules -
enforced for years -
Oft with heavy hand
I can’t let go -
for fact it show-
The conflicted man inside -
Who’s colored eyes -
Seek many lives-
with wish to taste them all
Loud voices shout -
through whisperings-
bringing ticklings -
to searching ears -
lifting me -
beyond this baron place
Their beckon call -
To mountain breeze,,,
and Siren’s pleas -
from the seas -
form but two -
of many desired escapes
Wild stallions run -
in valley sun -
yet lifeless-
here I sit-
as dreams of my tomorrows -
fade to dust
I can no longer hear the voices,
so now I'm not sure what to say.
I've come to the conclusion
that they would know a better way to tell this story.
At least if I could hear their opinions or suggestions,
that would help me to get a definite idea in what order this should be said.
They might of even told me when to add something important,
and leave out the unneeded information.
After all, I've known them for so long, and had their help this far,
I'm not exactly good at these types of things anymore.
Many things have happened, but I don't know where to start,
let alone the fact that my mind tricks me into seeing what isn't there,
and for once they aren't here to warn me.
It's like one moment my memories are engraved in stone,
to the next moment they are being washed away by the ocean tide,
taking the restless sand out to sea.
Thats the big problem with being labeled, crazy;
you're never sure about the things you see.
I could start by telling you,
it ended in death but to that effect, it also started in death.
So, I'm not exactly sure of what to say.
Maybe, just maybe I could try to remember something before I went utterly mad.
All I know in this moment is that some people died,
and I'm lucky enough not to be one of them.
The voices told me so,
that was the last thing they said nefore they left me alone.
instead of their whispers,
all I have now is the medications that are beign shoved down my throat daily.
The oval egg-shell blue pill, or my psychotropic pill sickens me.
Followed by me swollowing the pill,
my mouth becomes dry until I'm practily weezing and gasping for air,
as I bang my fists against my own chest so I can breathe.
This pill is like an elevator that can only stay
in one place for so long but cannot go up.
The doctors keep saying no matter how happy I feel,
it's just a facade, a hoax, a joke,
for the real emotion is lying in wait for the right moment to pounce and release my
hell bound anger,
or so they tell me
Form:
You madman ranting in the train
Time sold in that bottle should delay your pain
But what has poisoned you to disordain
Professing the impossible over and over again
"My manhood into" Britain! you claim
The universe is all to blame
Your wishful dreams are driving you insane
To hell with all but what remains
Is just a madman ranting in the train
Nothing maters in this world
Everything is about the sword
Everything is about the gold
And even if you have soul of gold
I’ll have to confess
Such soul is almost worthless
We all fallow our destiny
When I was younger I thought I was free
In this world there is beauty
But even living for eternity
Life would be empty
Never truly free
I wish from philosophical point of view
Dreams would come true
I wish life was not design by a fool
As it is because of idiot that is cool
I wish to be
Able to truly
Control my destiny
I wish to be philosophically free
If that means I’m crazy
Let it be
Only fool will not see
That which is clear to me
“You are not yet fifty years old,” the Jews said to him, “and you have seen Abraham!”
“I tell you the truth,” Jesus answered, “before Abraham was born, I am!” At this, they picked up stones to stone him, but Jesus hid himself, slipping away from the temple grounds.
John 8:57-59 NIV
IS HE A MADMAN
You say he is a prophet,
or is he a madman?
He claims to be God -
they knew what “I am,” meant.
Great claims, great God,
who walked in our midst,
but for such a short time.
He came to do His Father’s will,
He, in the flesh, the Son,
and then He left,
but not without leaving us
the third part of the Trinity,
the Holy Spirit.
You say he is a prophet,
or is He a madman?
His claims were high.
He was not a learned man,
being from a poor family.
Yet, everyone claims His name
either with blessing
or curses. On the tongue,
each man holds the name of Jesus Christ.
This “mere man,” the mannah from heaven
with miracles and lofty sayings.
If He had been a madman,
he would have been with the likes
of those who satisfied their lust
one way or another. This man
went to the cross with stripes
too hard for any other man to bear.
He never showed Himself to take advantage
but rather gave Himself wholly to His task.
Was He just a prophet? Weighed against the likes
of the rest, He stood above them all.
Jesus Christ is many things - Savior, Lord, the Way,
the Truth, the Life, Miracle Worker, great Teacher,
“I Am,” but a madman, that is crazy.
Awaken to the truth. God walked amongst His creation.
As Abba Father, God was always reigning in the heavenlies, yet the mystery of His flesh (and His spirit) that was to come, indeed did come, and will come again. Be watchful, vigilant, walk in the way of truth and light. Sin’s payoff is hell. Mercy and Grace has visited us, spurs us on in sanctification, after you commit yourself to Him.
He suffered, died, was buried, and rose again. He rose up into the clouds and promised to return. His return is imminent. Are you living, for Jesus Christ, today? He promises - we hope, not as in a wish but in knowing and believing.
8/31/2022
TOWNSPEOPLE:
MADMAN! MADMAN!
HE WILL FIND YOU
MADMAN! MADMAN!
HE WILL NOT SPARE YOU
MADMAN! MADMAN!
HE WILL FIND YOU IN THE NIGHT
UNTIL YOU SEE THE HEAVENS LIGHT.
OLIVIA:
HE’S UP THERE ALL ALONE AT NIGHT
THESE BITTER MEANINGS GIVE ME NEVERENDING FRIGHT
WHAT’S HE DOING, I WILL NEVER TELL
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT ME MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I’M IN HELL
[REFRAIN]
OLIVIA:
HE KNOWS WHEN YOU ARE STARING
HE KNOWS WHEN YOU TURN AWAY
HEED MY WARNING AND DO NOT LOOK UPON HIS FACE
[REFRAIN]
OLIVIA:
HE GIVES YOU A LOOK
WITH HIS DARK BROWN EYES
IT MAKES ME FEEL
LIKE I WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT
[REFRAIN]
OLIVIA:
WHEN YOU LOOK, HE TURNS AWAY
WHY CAN’T I FEEL THE LIGHT OF DAY?
THERE IS A PROBLEM I CANNOT SEE
WHY DOES HIS HEART MAKE ME WANT TO SCREAM?
[REFRAIN]
TOWNSPEOPLE AND OLIVIA:
HE KNOWS WHEN YOU ARE LOOKING
HE KNOWS WHEN YOU WILL STARE
TRYING TO SOLVE HIS PROBLEMS
GO NEAR HIM IF YE DARE.
[REFRAIN]
WHEN HE COMES FOR YOU, BE SURE TO LOCK YOUR DOOR
THEN RUN THROUGH THE HALLS AND HIDE BENEATH THE FLOOR
HE WILL NOT REST UNTIL HE KNOWS THAT YOU ARE DEAD
AND THERE IS NO WAY TO STOP HIM FROM DISCOVERING
[REFRAIN]
BE PREPARED TO FRET MY DEAR, THERE IS NO WAY THAT HE IS STOPPING NOW
NOW THAT HE IS ON HIS WAY
SOME PEOPLE ARE FLEEING THE STREETS NOW, THERE’S NOWHERE ON EARTH YOU CAN
HIDE
THERE’S NOT A PLACE YOU ARE SAFE, NOT EVEN INSIDE.
[REFRAIN]