Older and wiser people tell us to look on the bright side, but one has to admit, when you're in the thick of it- I mean really in front of the fan- There's no bright side to look toward. Your eyesight is covered in flying shit! What one must do, as I did today, is put yourself in someone else's position, one so horribly off the mark that you instantly repel, "I'm nowhere near that crazy! Geez this one..." I'm telling you it's the best medicine. Better than a laugh! Because then you laugh at the fact that you thought you were that mad in the first place. (Still mad but more lighthearted if you will)Anyway here is a child-style poem of a very grim nature. It's light and dark at the same time and I feel I really must set the tone (I almost always let my work speak for itself) because my writing is so off due to this ridiculous weekend that, sadly, this might not make sense to many. Enjoy?I was angry, you will notice because my poor writing has been affected, and looked up anger poems. My what an instant relief! The first poem I found contained such rage, such unadulterated hatred and passion that I instantly felt relief. It is titled "Anger Fills My Heart and Soul" by Jacob Hill, poor fellow. You can read it here.
Mad is a funny creature.
He knocks very lightly at your door.
Curious fellow; a tiny light preacher.
Coming to teach you to abhor.
Mad walks right in.
He sits himself down.
Caresses your yearning
and ends all sound.
Mad confuses and entangles.
Strokes with velvet and with steel.
He kisses with pure venom.
Finds you an enticing meal.
Mad is a funny little imp.
Which can cause you such great sorrow.
When you see him out your window.
Do your best until tomorrow.
He is a funny little creature.
He will wait outside your door.
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