I Am Insane. Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

I Am Insane.

Rating: 5.0


Yea.I am insane.

My dewy-eyes get bloodshot
in flimsy pretexts.

Not Spartan but stoic
often like a big wooden block.

Pig-headed will rushes to the shadow
of a mythical red flag
and buffalo hard horns gorge
into the shadow cast soil
with the force of a paranoid ox.

And the illiterate mood
strays like a herd of mad elephants
to wreck a havoc in a calm habitation.

And the sentiment like a deadly iceberg
hidden in the mind sea
is quick to ambush once dashed into it.

And the samurai sword tongue
is too ready to chop and mince
an opposite wind and missile boulders.

Like a psychosis beaten taunted heart
the psychopath hands grope for something in a dark room
and rummage the regular things and vandalize the dear things.

And bottled up footling things
in overly alert memory attic
blast often like a block-bluster
ripping apart the peace palace.

The fragile fuse wires in the main transformer
give in soon to a minimum hostile power
and then a sulky black out spreads everywhere
in all rooms and houses in the mad block.

The anorexic patience is a badly sick patient

who looks like a famish perished lean.

Simply put the diagnosis
a sort of versatility
has bred and grown
in the lap of split personalty.

Friday, February 27, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: psychological
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