Real Work (The Brilliant Fool) Poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson

He
was a piece
of work,

His life a
work of art

He was
a brilliant fool
masquerading as genius

Or, perhaps,
a stellar genius
just acting
the fool

He wore his success
like a stagnant, rotting albatross
around his neck,

its stench his constant
companion and
splendid cologne

His Life Portrait was
surreal,
abstract, askew

Each and every
moment of his moments

engorged with
gleeful rage and
upcoming root-canal apprehension


He
was a proverbial
mess

Who constantly,
addictively,
helplessly

sought the problem,
the flaw,
the not-quite-right –

even in Summer’s pale roses

He just
took for granted
that,

even in Heaven

there’s something
terribly off,

The angels’ harps just
a wee bit out of tune

Like I said,
this man
was a colossal mess –

Picasso gone wrong