Those Made Mad

I don't usually, explain myself. The idea for this poem came of recent events, press with fake news, hyperbole. Of course, they, the news, would call themselves 'unintentioned'. But, I think, they are lying devils, straight out, and have so done, since 'the ooze'. Just 'make it up', and, the public take the hindmost. I think it creates 'madness', in a society, an instability...an 'unreality'. We suffer 'their' damnation! I liken it to Lewis Carroll's, 'Alice In Wonderland', the sort of surreal, dreamlike scape of that poor young girls adventure. I mention 'the devil', Jesus, and 'every day's damned madness', and liken it to 'sipping absinthe', as the thinkers and poet dreamer's, were wont to do, during the Victorian era, or just prior, of Lewis Carroll's time. We need not drink 'the green faery', absinthe, in these times. We have 'the news', to twist us into madness, but there is 'the green movement'...

If I were to define approbation, in your case, ye players on the stage...esteem, applause, acclaim, admiration, commendation, condemnation...I would, for this: 'the biggest pack of liar's', in the multiverse, convincing every soul, up to...now? 

Am I a 'watershed'? Thou pricks! Did Jesus kick at thou, or laugh prodigiously, there...rolling on the floor, his devil, daint'ly double stepping, horse shit, having stirred, his mouth eschew? You've kept us all amazed, entranced, enamored  of such stunts, as you've performed...over thousands of years. 

How long hast thou been here, bored to tits, by YOU? So, how do we get out of here? You take a dump, and flush us down 'the rabbit hole', or 'whack away the heads'? Croquet? Kick our balls across the green? How psychotically perfidious of thou! Did Lewis Carroll know? Well, of course he did! He played a good game!

He was there with you, a line or two, a day...to keep the wolf at bay, 'djinn' in the green bottle, some opiate of sanity, in every day's damned madness? He, a prelate of the cloth, knowing such, as devils hold for joy, had taken shelter there, or gat thou then, behind, for fear...of gas release, the press du jour!

I think, you doubly did, and kept your mouths shut, valor seeming best, for being silent, snorting like two hogs in the dust, milking every one you had, and on we went...making news of the day's event, forever and on, any which way...you choose! You can't be blamed, for there's nothing real in that, but the pain you caused...in those made mad!

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Absinthe, google pic