Ironically Insane Poet By Gadese

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IRONICALLY INSANE BY GADESE

Ironically Insane

Tattered clothes and bare-feet
Hair dyed to the colours of an untarred street
Most times with no food to eat nor a place to sleep
But the irony of it is that, it’s almost too free
Freedom to throw hands up in the air
To have convos with people that seem not to be there
But that’s your shortfall, and not mine sir
And you’re the one that ends up with the feeling of despair.
You look on as if to say it’s strange
Never wondering what brought about this change
Who I was or could become before all this came
But what does it matter, it’s all but down in the drain
On-lookers looking with looks of not wanting to be looked at as they should
Creating pictures and imagery, spreading blatant cacophony
I may be in a state of brouhaha, but trust me that’s no catastrophe
For in my world everyone understands me, and my language is peace

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I will where I would, sleep when I want, and eat what I feel
Your incessant chat and spite does not bite me
Sometimes I’d run after you with a stick and make you uptight
But it’s all fun and games, you could play if you learnt
Listen to my convos, listen to my speech
Vivid as they are, but you may not see
They tell of my history, and where I’m headed
They also tell of my present, the reason I’m so uncovered.
Naked? you say? But is that not how the world was?
In the garden, way before the coitus
Parts allowed to dangle and roam free
The wind, free to blow around thee
But sometimes in my corner I do feel sad
For those who sit and think I’m mad
In your attempt to find what I have
You do loose yourself, so now, who’s mad?

Gadese™ 


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