Puno tamnih opisa. Jezivih priča. Tko je tu lud? Ja, ili ja koji želi biti lud? Jesu li te priče priče? Ili ne želim vjerovati da su tu i sada kao ja i ja.

M’lud
I stand before you
Contained within this dock
The night I was arrested
I can tell you
Was a shock!

Because? … I do NOT write in metaphors
Because?… I say it as it IS

This is the crime
I’m guilty of
By the …

Poetry Police

Another one that irks them so
Is because I write in rhyme
They think that they are clever
That extended is

Divine

I would like to

                        exercise

                                     my

                                           freedom

                        Wield

                                   my

                                           pen
                              
                          Just

                                  as

                                        I

                                            please


M’lud
Take pity
On this soul
Who pleads
On bended knees

For … there is much room in the pantry
For us all to get along
For … there is much room in the pantry
To sing our different songs

Songs of different cultures
Songs of unrequited love
Songs of just plain nonsense
Songs yet to be dreamed of

M’lud
I now beseech you
Appeal for your support
Pay credence to my musings
Throw this case
Straight out of court
For the greater man
Will walk alone
When his backs against the wall
The greater man
Will stand alone
In any port of call

For he has the inner knowledge
He has free rein of his mind
He understands complexities

Eyes       are       no       longer       blind

Blind to prepaid formulas
Rules they set in stone
Please protect poetic liberty

For … I will never be a clone



CASE WAS DISMISSED AND THE JUDGE SANCTIONED THAT ALL POETS FROM NOW ON WILL BE PROTECTED BY THE POETIC LIBERTY ACT 2010

I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty,
And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe.
Carole whan my corage blissieth,
And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth.

Druerie shal be his a-brune billets.
A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles.
A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche.
A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde.

Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres.
Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes.
Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge.
Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte!

Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant
Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand?
Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child?
Hire misty doter who berne and bilde?

The hoom is not where the herte is.
The herte is the hoom bote motif
The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture.
A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.

All the min-u-ets you played danced in my head
Cut-ting through all my brain's synapses
Now I find myself staying up at night
Fruit flies dip-and-diving on my
Porch light

All the con-***-sions I suf-fered in the dark
Helped in the day when I re-invented art
Keep-ing up with all the verbal trends
Words I say in private are all
Open ends
Open ends
(There's nothing living, don't know
Why,
I don't know why,
My brain is numbing and it's weird)

All the mas-ter-pieces kept on hanging up
When the doctors said they "had to pull the plug"
Awake enough to hear those daylight words
My night-light eyes ate the bugs like
Little birds
Just like little birds
(No longer buzzing in my head)

All the con-vo-lud-ed pains at
Midnight!

All the bugs in-side me ate
My light!

All the dead have died in
Sick-ly fa-shion
Dropping like flies with blinks of God's eye
Never forgetting it all

All the things you said were dead had really died
All the things you said were dead had really died
All the times I thought you had, you never lied

How Duth thou
Go forth
Wence from ere
Thou did came
Thence thy sallied by
Twixst the lullaby
''Twas to blame.

Skulls on the skyline
and they're saying prayers
on the hill,
I'm reading the 'Rabbi of Lud',
absurd,
but good.

The jealousy hook will take them away,
green with envy and many would say
it's an illness.

The ants are in motion,
spirals and warships make
trace on the ocean
pounding away,
it's an illness they say.

And Mr's Muir and the ghost
who loved her the most any
ghost
could ever do,
though she may have been dreaming
and never really knew
if her ghost was true or not,
they say it's an illness that she's got
and such a shame.

In the moving picture show
at Medicine creek where
I often go to get a dose
of reality,
it comes to me
that it's all a fantasy and
nothing real was ever there
except for the
skulls on the skyline.

Its for getting that way so its you
Looked ******* kiss me bebe go
You so matching well it you a lud
Well so good for me it very blood
Go it you a need for get a way
So you much in very joy
Go you look for well its you so lone
My to friend it will my go it you
Very so much well is your
You so much a needed get o way
Say fo me will so its you congress
*** well so my interest
I no go ill well so you congress
*** wall so me *** it very good
******* need will so me blood
Very job well i to no go you
Go in you to go me **** in ju
**** i look ha ih lebede
******* ****** hi well my ***** go it
Well so you so good **** in the lud
Get for you will six a node
So it well be back in go
Go it you a very so
Go the will is very ****
Ice to bebe good it job
Go it well is you a need
They way so to be a led
I to go to go to go

Tic Toc Tic Toc my clock
Rhythmically flows
Lud Thud Lud Thud
My heart beats
As I lay in bed wondering
In this pandemic
Will.I stay wakeful
In Kronos Time
Or breathe with another
Chance to change
Whatever time it is
I need to value the
Time I have
Appreciate all that
Has been given me
And thank the Lord

.