Schizophrenic Poem

….

This poem has multiple
personalities, a couple
of voices you might want to
(fear)
hear. It can converse
in verse
and tone
and tongues,
say one thing
or no thing
or some
thing else entirely.

It’s
(banana)
split
with lots to say, some
choices held at bay
and others worn loud
on tattered sleeve. It will
leave you
(and stay)
with a bad taste in your
mouth. A route to
(un)
(mis)
take. A thirst to slake.
A shrike to steal your
shine. And a wary need
for more.

It’s got at least four
different sisters
at its center: two evil,
one good, one un
-decided. They shout
over each other
(shhhhhh)
(hush, now)
(come hither)
(ain’t that fine?)
all the live long day
saying whatever they
please. Tease.
(Bee’s knees.)

(Are we there yet?)
I forget
the path of least
(unleashed)
resistance. Renaissance.
Rebellion. Hellion. Saint.
might be
(ain’t)
what it used to be.
…………(Breathe.)

Believe
in something,
any
thing. We are here.
(We are legion.)
We are tiny but
mighty. We are small.
We are all you’ve ever
dreamed of, on the
head of a pin. Spin
us round and parachute
us loose. With a wish. And
a prayer.

There. See? No place
we’d rather be
…than
………….here.

 

..
Prompted by Miz Q, day 20.