Monday, October 17, 2005

The Poetic Mind of a Madman - Volume 2

Opened to the world, the man sleeps in dreams

Closed to his mind, the man walks in darkness

Each step towards the goal mindless, anxious

The boy, unto the man with less than ideal intentions

Again it is the speech that binds him, blind, cold

Away from the clatter, the fists clenched, whole

The dark stare of his burned up mind, vacant

The man, unto the boy with less than realistic dreams

With sinister glow, of the madness within him

It touches him deeply, to know that others share

To see again, with the eyes that know to point sorrow

The father, unto the son with less than understood hype

Being of passive state, the world flies, harsh, empty

Invoked with visions, the mind lies, angry, cruel

The voice enters, so sweet, so angelic, so un-phased

The son, unto the father with more than blessed hope ;8o)