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Craziness
by Michael FarrisDancing
with the demons, the misfits, the neglected, the naughty children
the parts of me
pushed into closets
contained in straight jackets
shamed and denied.
It is a delicate art
running a group therapy session
with the neurotics
I have enabled.
Then again
without their craziness
I chase losses and shames
beat up good intentions
and punish the wild one in me.
They are
the wide eyed
the running to the edge ones
spontaneous tears
sudden amusements
the whirlwind of our large soul
attempting to gather the mystery.
Then again
they embarrass me often. 07/12/2011 Posted on 07/12/2011
Copyright © 2026 Michael Farris
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Scott Utley on 07/13/11 at 03:41 AM Bravo! We must be related. |
| Posted by Jennifer Truesdale on 03/21/12 at 01:03 AM then maybe we are triplets because this is me |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 05/31/15 at 01:13 PM it is the crazy impulse that writes odes and not the sane. where would our poesie be sans. the inanity in us? it would proceed in a linear fashion and be flat as the earth was once perceived. |
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