Long Mad as a hatter Poems
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In this Ordinary Swoon
by Michael R. Burch
In this ordinary swoon
as I pass from life to death,
I feel no heat from the cold, pale moon;
I feel no sympathy for breath.
Who I am and why I came,
I do not know; nor does it matter.
The end of every man’s the same
and every god’s as mad as a hatter.
I do not fear the letting go;
I only fear the clinging on
to hope when there’s no hope, although
I lift my face to the blazing sun
and feel the greater intensity
of the wilder inferno within me.
Keywords-Tags-Hashtags: life and death, heat, fire, inferno, passion, cold, coolness, breath, purpose of life, god, religion, hope, sun, moon, winter, sunset, visionary
Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.
When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.
Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.
It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.
Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.
Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.
Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.
Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender.
Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.
Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.
Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve.
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.
Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.
Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones.
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.
Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.
Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs.
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.
You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat.
Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
Am I really that useless?
That may not be the case
I am just another person
Within the human race
Everyone has problems
This i know is fact
Its how i deal with them they say
In other words, how do I react
Some people’s brains work differently
This I know to be true
The problems that some people have
May not affect me and you
To some normal stresses can be hard
They can see their way through
But to others with severe issues
These stresses cannot do
When the mind is struggling so much
You cannot see the way
Ideas bounce around your head
You can’t hear what others say
No one has the answers
The mind is so complex
The smallest things will fester
In the mind’s deepest depths
Low self esteem will set in
Negative thoughts do begin
Try to increase your self-belief
As if you don’t it will cause grief
Some people can see the light
Where others just sit in fright
Others always see positive
Where some just don’t want to live
A friend colleague a partner can listen
So shout out to achieve this mission
It’s not the easiest thing to do
Once it’s done you won’t feel so blue
It’s easy for others to just say
Get a grip be on your way
What you need is a listening ear
Fill your life with positive cheer
So if you’re struggling and cannot see
Your not alone shout out too me
I’m no professional in this matter
As you are not mad as a hatter
I will listen to your worries and woes
Watch your movement from head to toe
As this will help me see what is wrong
Give you the answer that you belong
You deserve to let your mind be free
Give people a chance and you will see
Let them help you through your strife
You can then begin to live your life
Nope reforming hardened criminal donning
scarred face, manacles jailhouse stripe, et cetera
nor taming screwish incorrigible guttersnipe
ain't most difficult enterprises
entailing me to wipe
dripping sweat from my hoary brow,
neither primary tsoris,
(i.e. Yiddish, asper in woeful gripe),
but reading tome thick as stovepipe
hat, I declare constitutes most grueling task
paging thru compendium of words A thru Z
may rank less purposeful than bovine tripe.
not surprisingly causing mine gray matter
(more'n fifty shades), to wanna up and scatter
fist size shot thru unnecessarily subjected
to feel like oversaturated blatter
vehemently aggrieved mad as a hatter
to appease, boost and flatter
ever shrinking fanbase blithely bandying
faux poetic pitter patter
trumpeting expansive vocabulary
enlivened, leavened, seasoned... smatter
ring poem to expressive affinity
how bajillion combinations
twenty six letters one can splatter
casually incorporating multisyllabic
word such as sesquipedalian
less to boast more so to chatter
up food for thought perhaps...
infect reader to accrue fatter
vocabulary than mine
actually rather paltry yoke cant argue
yukon (albeit figuratively) tatter
with little effort hen even
offer as hors d'oeuvres
to this storied scribbling wildcatter.
First off my friend
Let me begin
By saying I ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen
Now with those pleasantries
Out of the way
Let me proceed to say
What I need to say
I've written different poems
On different subjects, different matters
Some soft as a kitten
Others mad as a hatter
Every now and then
I stand on the serious ledge
But more often than not
I fall right off of the edge
Like I said before
I'm just a fool with a pen
Drooling from my smile
Cross eyed in my grin
Separating in rhyme
All the boys from the men
Cackling in crazy
From the beginning to the end
Thanking my lucky stars
Rhyming comes so easy
Like a trip to Venus or Mars
Half baked brain and over queasy
Like I said before
When all of this began
I really ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen
Why yes, I dated Taylor Swift
And no, she didn't write a song on it
I'm not quite sure what that means
Unless it is she still likes me
That might be the explanation why
I catch her out of the corner of my eye
It makes perfect sense now I believe
That Taylor Swift is stalking me
When she found out that I like to rock
She went straight from Country into Pop
Any country bumpkin can plainly see
That Taylor still has eyes for me
When I'm out shopping at the Grocery store
And I catch her sneaking down isle 4
Taylor girl you can't fool me
Your not only here for the Pickled Beets
The other day my car dinged low on fuel
So I pulled in for Petro and to check the oil
You'll never guess who's pumping gas
Do you really even need to ask
And when it is I'm home alone
There's that ring of the late night call
With heavy breathing on the end of the phone
To the tune of Shake It Off
I'm a bit more worried than I am flattered
She seems these days Mad as a Hatter
Who after all this would not believe
That Taylor Swift is stalking me
The mountain looks across a sea gazing
as it crawls beholding living waves move amazing Grace
echoing gull's lament falls upon deaf ears
silence freezes over iced laced as they that breathe out
from salted whispers footprints scream injustice
Nurtured with the twilight covers ebony
dressed in sparkling silver starlight
where perfection has been misplaced
At the gate without hope as seen for it's strong virtues
realities shadows quickly reaches the summit
consumed far fetched mad as a hatter hounds of words
spell disaster smoking guns disadvantaged creation
This planet has lost the plot completely
with dishonest crooks filled with mercury heavy lead
back to front doses evolve helpless beings
small measures begins poisoning the weak minded fools
In those whom use the upside down Bible
for no good cause stumbling at the hurdles chariots on fire
spoken of at the burning bush our ten laws etched on stone
take your heathen temple out of our land
In spite of my advancing years
One thing always remains consistent
My joy for life, love and happiness
The blues are almost nonexistent
Why was I chosen to be this lucky soul
With this devil-may-care attitude
While others can't seem to catch a break
Every day they're screwed and tattooed
Is it just the luck of the draw
Do we really have a say in the matter
You can surely bet your sweet bippy we do
Betcha think I'm mad as a hatter
Where did that silly old saying originate
What is a mad hatter anyway
Must be from the dark ages methinks
Don't hear of those guys nowadays
Okay, seems I've drifted a bit off the track
To get back to my love of life
Guess I'll just let the good times roll
“Jump up and yell, “life's a blast!”
This is the story of Norm and Nate,
And Hank Williams, the great balladeer,
And what was to be their horrible fate
As they spun on this rotating sphere.
Nate the needle played hits on a platter,
Spinning the sad songs Norm had made him.
Norm, as they’d say, was mad as a hatter,
But Nate the needle meekly obeyed him.
In a circle, the platter would revolve
As Nate would sing sad sounds he found there,
While Norm, crying bitter tears, would dissolve,
As Hank’s words and voice, he couldn’t bear.
Hank’s million-dollar voice came from on high,
But the Lord gave him a 10-cent head.
He wrote the song, “So Lonesome I Could Cry”
Lamenting leaves that would soon be dead.
On New Year’s, ‘53, Hank Williams died;
Norm could play only that song and not move.
Hank saw the light, while Norm cried and cried,
And Nate was buried in a watery groove.
“O’ Shepherd, a penny for your thoughts,
What a handsome couplet we would make!
Let’s seize the day and let’s make hay”
“Madam, have we metaphor?
Get thee to a nunnery *
For I am betrothed to a maid most true,
Who goes by the name of Villanelle”
“You mean the maid who lives down by the stream,
“About a meter or so by yon,
I really simply cannot stanza”
“Madam, for your amplification,
You are an anastrophe”
“O’ Shepherd, don’t be an oxymoron,
Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit, *
I am hired to help you with your labours,
Let’s seize the day and let’s make hay”
“Madam, do you consider me an idiom?
Let’s no longer beat about the bush,
For I have bigger fish to fry”
“O’ Shepherd, come and punch above your crooked staff,
And by the way, please call me Consonance,
If music be the food of love, *
Let’s seize the day and let’s play on”
“Madam, you are as mad as a Hatter,
Simply barking up the wrong tree,
And your innuendos bring out my analogy”
“Shepherd,
There's many a man has more hair than wit, *
So, you take out to graze that countless flock,
You seize the day and I’ll be on my way.
Adieu"
6/11/22
*William Shakespeare