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The Madicated Crowd
It now seems the medicine man writes,
Or fills out a form for all panacea,
To fit any form of strife in life,
Like a general anaesthesia.
I remember days before where the dour,
Fellow sufferers of my illness, in vain,
Had stood aloft on darkened towers,
Whilst the world looked on in disadain.
We forged a path where few wanted to go,
As those sane and erect were left to carry,
With a shoulder that they cannot show,
The chaotic beauty that we did sally.
But alas now it is a drop for temperance, and trial,
Into a loss of self that we did prove,
That the longer the race remains in denial,
The cleave in life is left for many to do.
But please do not hold to these words of remorse,
Just acknowledge the bite my bretheren see,
And set your self right by your own course,
Lo' one day the mind be dead, but the soul set free.
©Richard.H.Elliott 2003
