Startled by Existence

Note:  this is a poem to hear.  It is in fact, a phat bad rap.

 

I be whirling

like a dervish of tornadic hue,

feeding a brain storm

flinging the blue.

I be spinning like a turnip

Turnin'in my grave ..

 

a blithering basket,

taking a catnap,

burying hatchets,

catching the catnip,

crying in my soup ..

 

cutt’n the rug

 

I be

barking at the sunset

croonin’ at the moon

yapping like a lapdog

singing in tune.

 

I be zoomin

my zoom lens

shout’n down mimes

paint’n the town

with turpentine and wine

 

I be

mad as a hornet

playing his cornet

dancing in the torrents

of fire and hail.

I be

happy as lark park

singing in the grey dark

outside a Wal-Mat,

holding a pierced heart…

oddly in love with who knows who…

 

I be jubilant with twitter,

half-baked and fritter,

flinging and singing and loosening screws,

I be ….

hopeless and haunted and dancin’ in the pain

 

I be

riding the manic swing.