(A found poem)
I’ve been mad for fucking years;
been over the edge working me buns off…
I know, I’ve been mad like most of us
(even if you’re not mad…)
All you touch and all you see,
a race toward an early grave
is all your life will ever be.
Waiting for someone
or something to show you the way.
You are young; life is long.
There is time to kill today,
plans that either come to naught,
or are half a page of scribbled lines.
Hanging on in quiet desperation,
it came as a heavy blow,
yelling and screaming and telling him
“Grab that cash with both hands”.
It is the root of all evil,
but we sorted the matter out.
I was really drunk at the time!
“Listen son, don’t give me that do goody good
bullshit”, said the man with the gun,
God only knows it’s not what we choose,
but which is which and who is who?
There’s room for you inside;
only a difference of opinion.
Good manners don’t cost nothin, eh?
Got to keep the loonies on the path
And if with dark forebodings
your head explodes, raise the blade.
Make the change. Lock the door and
throw away the key. The old man died.
All you hate,
all you distrust,
all that you deal
beg, borrow or steal…
There is no dark side of the moon!
It’s really a matter of fact it’s all dark.
***The poem was culled from the lyrics of the songs on the Pink Floyd album by the same name.