Here is where.....
Madmen write verse for their amputated lovers
with blue fountain pens and quills of clotted ink
Scribbling morbid memories yellow with old malaria
running like diseased rats through cellar thoughts
They cut themselves to see if their subjects will bleed
for their extremities are filled with a royal great pain
Morphine pumps hang from a weathered weather vain
spinning in the wind like some Blowhard's narcotic sonnet
Critics wither in their own flatulent and fowl wind
inhaling the breath of Artisans
Here is where..... language is a lost vagrant
Here is where..... everything and nothing rhymes
Here is where.....
Madmen dissect the bloated toad Shakespeare
inching closer to his truth with every stroke of genius
Verse is stolen from the cesspool of moronic poems
and published on whiskey soaked bar napkins
One in a million will find a star on which to ride
while all others will sink below the bog of verbosity
Disappearing into the darkness of obscurity
left to rot with extrapolated numbers of lifeless limbs
Here is where.....
Madmen guzzle pint by bloody pint of premium Ale
yet to render only another quart of stinking bloody piss
Where cockroach squatters count the missing legs
on the stools where hookers and whores sit eating prose
And Syphilis has been spoon feeding poor Yorick's scribe
a double dose of gambles and song to make a table roar
Horatio counts his money into a Barmaid's cum filled hand
hoping to yet land her to her lady chambers if he can___
Alas........
Here is where.....
Madmen reside within the realm of sanity......
©2007 Ted Sheridan
Well Dude, if you're not published already, you really should be! This is fresh and imaginative language, for sure!
yes, people write poetry to express themselves, their ideas, feelings, whatever..that keeps them sane. not everybody is looking for fame ted.
Oh yes fellow word smith I now know, How wonderful. Ophelia I am madness is my game poetry my game. Thank you, Ophelia
Putting paragraphs into screed from a right-wing blog does not poetry make.
I just read all your poems that begin with an asterisk assuming that these are your latest work. This one is my favorite. I feel I could have written this, well, maybe only if I were you. The point is...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! ! ! ! This one is very powerful! For once...I think I'm actually speechless! Hugs, Dee