sanity is
a canvas lined in checkered folly
a gasoline rainbow running from a well lit match
down a corridor filled with screams and smoke
canaries of all beautiful colors
tirelessly hunting down all the vultures of wounded insight
just to teach them their lessons before dying
looking beneath the great blood sponge of gray matter
and seeing for the first time the crossbeams that support
hindsight's heaviest trussles
to quote Gertrude Stein
THERE IS NO THERE, THERE!
for today shouts too softly for tomorrow to hear
and tomorrow herself lacks the bravery to correct the
oversight of the true embodiment that is this sanity
of reconstructed life
whether its one painful or painless shred at a time
so in this personal effect
its POETRY
that must muscle in to extort
some sense of saneness
from each frame of events
Feb 21,2003(1am)
Ah, so true. Who is sane? What is it real or surreal?
I enjoyed every written word of you pen.
Thanks for being here and sharing. Hope to see you again soon.
Love, peace, freedom. Godspeed,
Linda
www.poeticarts.net
Poetry Muscles In
I was just turning 53 when this was written (02-21-50). I like the action of poetry here. Well said. - slc