Poem: Of Insanity

I want to cut off my left hand and let you write with it
Its connected to a part of my brain that always wants some ink to spit
But my pen has run dry and now i’m having a fit
The words are piling up in my mind, so here goes my gambit

Take my hand and the connection with the intention of compassion
And passion, don’t ration the outflow, for the stream is never low
It flows like the snow that rolled over Pluto the dog
And turned him into an icicle, and the St. Bernard poured brandy down his throat to clear the fog
Now here i go, my brain hemispheres are headed off, like isotopes they make the same dope but the difference of the neutrons are making me indifferent, and the limits of the limit i cannot stomach, so screw you, i’m the one who flew, you are the cuckoo, with bird flu and cold chicken stew but no hot soup, what does the chicken eat to sooth the fever, oh…..pull the lever back, i’ve gone slightly off track

I cannot go back, the rotary dial on my visual cortex wants to clickitty click forward, don’t need a dial tone to ford its way across the unimaginative, through the muck that is stuck on the general narrative, it is relatively simple like the current pimple that ejects it’s contents in waves of echoes in caves, echoing away but still claiming to be news, to change the echo change the source or i fear all is lost.

The cost of what we lose is an abuse on the future of the pure art of inspiration and to go insane will not be in vain for art remains the breath of life for all those in strife, so why not strive to revive the passion of the child writing lines of what she finds and drawing what she saw when she flew to the seaside, and on a boat ride, caught a glimpse of a whale big and wide, and it smiled big and wide in the tide of her imagination and her dreams she can make true, just give her a piano and she’ll prove it to you

And for that reason through the seasons of gravity and levity I pass my left hand for it is right to write and has the right to write no matter what the teacher says, and the slaps she gave to say only right can write but my insistence on my way forced her far right enclave to cave, but it did pave my misbehaviour and made me the rebel with no credible credibility amongst the authority and society but to repeat an idea once again, for the first time, i am the one in the flow, you are the dodo.

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