What could possess a man so intense,
Slumped over scratching at a paper fence?
No walls can lock inside the free!
For each hold the key to insanity.
Scribbles and rips and salted lips!
There are no fingers that can firmly grip,
A hold of a thought and set it astray.
Gone is the warmth of kinder days.
Where in this pit of greed and faith,
Can a side dish of sweets linger bad taste?
Spelled out laughter hide what’s fake,
Only can a feeling make the wishbone break.
With pen and ink can sheets express,
Cutting through butter cluttered oily fresh.
Exorcise that what one cannot beseech!
Document clearly upon helpless, blank sheets.
~Chris Darroch Biggs
**Poem originally published via Facebook on Sunday, August 22, 2010 here.
**Mad Poet artwork by Michael Whelan