This poem is kind of a reflection of what's going on in the world right now. From Covid-19 to black rights to gay rights. Politics too. It's all chaos. I'm beginning to dread checking the internet on the daily


Madness, the say
Of people and animals
Men, women, children
Even dogs, yes dogs
They roam the streets
Day after day
Night after night
Time after time
Murmuring, sniggering
Sometimes yelling
Then whimpering
Mad, yes! Mad.

Insanity, they say
Of things living, breathing
Breathing? Not sure
But yes, it has to be
They look around
Eyes bloodshot
Bodies half-clad, walking
Paced not , staggering
Hands over genitals
Chuckling, pointing
People dodging
Insane, yes! Insane.

Psychosis, they say
Of everything, everything
Objects, people, nothing left
Voices, yes voices
Whispering, calling
Sometimes singing, beautiful
Other times mocking, unpleasing
Low giggle bursting, cracking
Dirt everywhere
They eat everything
Hand to mouth, hand to mouth
Psychosis, yes! Psychosis.

Lunacy, they say
Of us, yes us
Human voices, itching
They run and hide
Buried under leaves
Canceled under shrubs
Peeping, watching
Waiting for a signal
Attack, all they hear
Assault, all they understand
In the end nothing, emptiness
Lunatic, yes! Lunatic.

Away from all I said above, we have always portrayed madness in a certain way, which is exactly why I painted the above poem. But come to think of it. Could it mean more? Is there a possibility that something is hidden underneath the acts we see?

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