An Apologia Poem by Richard St. Clair

I make my raw compulsions work for me!
Through thick and thin indulging them I do,
Expressing yea my madness, through and through—
An artist am I: music, poetry!
This madness never leaves me, so I write,
Creating tunes and word-smithings anew,
And if I scare my neighbors (some I do) ,
Nathless I hope to cause someone's delight.
I was born to be an artist, yes I was,
Exulting in the weird and offbeat ways
That stimulate my cortex, not for praise,
For no other reason do I, "just because."
When I think of many dreary ways to live,
I hope my listeners me will forgive.