I've not been in a poetry mood recently, but in 2013 I wrote the following in response to a poetry prompt. If it shows anything, it shows how easy it is for me to unhinge my mind! The prompt: Write a poem about someone's last day in a mental hospital after they are deemed "well" enough to reenter society, try and put yourself in their shoes.
Two words of note:
antiscians: The inhabitants of the earth, living on different sides of the equator, whose shadows at noon are cast in opposite directions.
serpent: is also a musical instrument also called a contrabass anaconda
Insanely Free
It's batty uppity
time.
Everyone is strange.
I am a turnip.
The walls talk to me.
I churn no answer:
I scream with Ginger.
You are all against me
tenors
an aria
that I'm somebody special.
We're antiscians
whispers my lustful lover computer,
Betsy.
The voices tell me
I will be released:
"We have patiently
the examined
and will sanely release
the lever arm chair
into the wall."
I am myself.
Where is freedom?
I leave normal school
serpent tootelage
and enter
defiled mild child wild.
I blame the tame lame game.
I build hotels on Park Place Mat
planting a jail free exit bush.
Tomorrow the trees
will be friendly money lenders.
I'll spy huggable
waggle-taled poems
on the superb highway.
But those
saber-toothed orange versus
want me for munch.
Soon Dawn
will break my hart.
My destruction
will be en pointe.
Time to set sail
in my bed
to the old new world
in rocket's angry red glare
tomorrow good night.
