Madness Define - A Declaration of the World to the World - A Scene in two parts

Madness Define

A Declaration of the World to the World

 - A Scene in two parts -

BY

Samuel Stiggens III

There, somewhere, trapped in time and space, a place inside his mind, the poet sits, drinking his wine, twirling his hair around his finger as his other hand writes, madness really, stuff, thrown like pasta to the wall, to see if it sticks!

Anger stripped, mindless banter, into the wind, to be carried forth from his witless wit, his pondering of life's events, from the smoke filled bars of Chapeltown, to that romance that was not to be, to his life currently, among the natives, that he observes so carefully.

Measurements of time, in increments, spaced perfectly on heart filled pages, memories, distant, flying through a space filled with madness, dreams, cancelled checks from strip clubs where women named Jewels and Kandy twirl upon silver polished poles to the songs of the ages.

"She's my cherry pie!!"

The madness seeps into that world, of the dark sheep in wolves' clothing, dancing through the broken glass of broken dreams, spread his wings into the sky, to see, it all, above this world.

Freedom to think without bounds, binding him to nothing, except that vision he sees when he dares sleep, to not dare to widen his eyes, to awake, to wander far away from that land of dreams.

He stood, feeling the ground beneath his feet.

The wind blew around him, trying to pull him away, to some distant shore.

The ocean's waves hit the shore, tempting him into their watery embrace.

July 12th, 1989.

Was it sooner?

He didn't know.

His mind was glancing through pages; whispers of time, events, dates?

Who knew.

Standing in a circus of broken fleas;
I have seen,
With these two eyes,
Open wide shut,
Children crying,
From hunger,
From sickness,
Sweating,
From the diseases,
Mothers crying,
Hopeless,
No hope,
Their children dying,
They weep,
For lack of not trying,
Vying for opportunities,
Raising their arms,
To Heaven's grace,
Praying to Unseen gods,
'Spare us, oh Lord, feed us, we shall honor your name!'
And the words go unheard,
The tears turn to rain,

The child dies,
More tears,
No relief,
From these times,
There is no sign,
No ways,
What is this freedom that they speak?
Slavery to time,
Slavery to feats,
Uncompleted.

Reach,
Ready themselves,

For the breaks do not come,
The waves pound them into ground,
Dust to dust,
They are lifted,
Into the wind,

Madness,
Dreams,
Heated delirium of words spoken,
Sung,
Heaved!

Wait!

The lies begin,
I shall be,
Forever,
Hell, the merriment of wisdom,
Lost in translation,

To color outside the lines,
Give me strength o'lord!

Weep!

Trailer on broken wheels, 

Sinking ground,

Water polluted,

Sulfer tasting,

Too poor for the man to care,

Throwing their back to the wheel,

In hope to make themselves better,

But pushed farther into unending black pit,
Forever spiraling down,

Hoping to hit bottom,

But giving up,

Falling,

Ever down,

And the man does not care,

He has his,

And that is all that matters!!

"They make enough on minimum wage! If they want, they can better themselves like I did!" the man says, wandering away to let the poor drown in that pit.

The end is only the beginning, the adventure only the first step of the journey.  The answers, my friends, are blowing in the wind!