Drawn from the mire of conclusion,
I witness my own mind turn,
as in reality my discerning left wanting,
having the truth absconding
as I tell myself those lies.
So flippant my judgement,
so addled my redundant knowing,
put to test in manifest of all I think I acknowledge
as some measured truth,
the ruse I so often create, my undoing.
‘I know’ a phrase of arrogance,
so often used by the clueless,
thinking knowledge is gleaned from cereal boxes,
and I in the past attest such impropriety,
a mistaken leap of sobriety.
Perhaps a drunken view would solve my woes,
a sideways skewed perspective
that breaches my ardent elective,
hammering home what I disapprove,
and truth blaring out in supposition.
Or maybe madness has already taken
what my mind has so easily mistaken,
for a reality my life should well have shown,
and I in stubborn reactive pose,
just refuse to know what’s shaking.
We are only as good as our last words,
and ‘Argh!’ hardly commends a medal,
and in the ire of a bad joke,
I throw around my venting smoke
to discover how human I am.
I have good days and bad,
some when a mind is glad to be productive,
others when the bottom of a garbage bin,
is a nest I would prefer,
until these thoughts that stir, deter my actions.
Struggle is just a word, not my last,
but one I have known, intimately,
and my subjugation from a weary self,
is often too much to bear, so
I write until a fair and abiding equilibrium is found.
This is my madness,
I think too much, feel too much, give too much,
and when I face myself, forgiveness is deterred,
for I expect too much as well,
and that is my cross to bear.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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