Written by Monkey Woods

Friday, 16 February 2018

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The story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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image for Deranged
My brain hurts

This is a poem about going mad. Possibly about having already gone mad.

I thought it up whilst on a bus, stuck in traffic in Bangkok. That city may have been a contributory factor in my downward spiral. Life, like the heat, is intense there, and an extended period of intensity can have an extraordinary effect on someone, particularly someone who spends a long time in isolation, away from anyone who might be called 'a friend'.

The truth about this rather long introduction is, that I have tried to enter enough text so that those horrible advertisements don't in any way interfere with the layout of the poem, as - I have found to my cost- they have with other poems in the past.

However, I have made an error.

After initially having posted this 'work', I realised that my overly-long intro was still not quite long enough, and that the advertisements still interfered with the layout, and, into the bargain, the reader's enjoyment. I have, therefore, made a subsequent change that should alleviate this. Thank you for your patience.

Well, it just remains for me to say that I hope you enjoy the poem, but, to be honest, if you don't, I really couldn't care less.

Deranged

I think that I shall never see,
A thing so lovely as a tree -
On fire

I think that I shall never kiss,
The lips of a bull that's just lick'd piss -
Off a nettle

I think a dream is hard to find,
Why am I going out of my mind?
Truly

I think the time has come to act
Spontaneity, I never lacked
Why now?

I think, therefore, I am - Oh, damn!
But just not what I think I am!
Amen.


Woods 2018

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Topics: Poetry




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