Fear of woman in window
life, Love, poetry

Mad Man

Sorcerer he imagined days of virtuosity

those hours of maniac creativity.

Ladies and only ladies objected to his mighty chicken;

but never a ladies man, he was a bloke

Now as his mind became flat with hay

and ethered breaths as he lay.

Pancing back and forth in strange darkness,

gazed at the sky full of moons in naked starkness.

Mother stood in embellished wedding frock,

a chalky dream, it was never to be a cakewalk.

Midst cat droppings, and shattered dreams

he wished to defile a flower again.

But he was nothing but a Mad Man

15 thoughts on “Mad Man”

    1. Lol, this comment left me cackling 😆
      In my mind I penned a Kafkaesque masterpiece… 🤪🤪

      1. True that, I’m just in a fantasy world every minute penning a novel 🙂
        Like Jane Austin I’m a gonna begin with a philosophy….
        “ It is a truth universally accepted that a middle aged woman and an old man has lot in common than they think… both are bored of their wits and as are hunting for time pass”

    1. To tell you the truth, John I actually had a low grade fever when I premed this was last week🙄🙄 hence the fevered dream.

    1. Hi Drac, I’ve not read H.P Lovecraft, should read his work. I’m glad you liked this, just penned last week. How are things with you? Did you find something?

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