SOLILOQUY OF A LUNATIC ....
People call me "Mad", why so?
Why?
Am I not wiser, more prudent, more thinking?
For me the Sun's Dwell in Me,
the Stars as well!
Yet they shout at me:
" There goes the lunatic! ",
" Catch him, put him in an Asylum for the Mad ",
Methinks, and wisely so,
All these Skunks, are these the wise ones, suffering, groaning?
Are they victims of the Defects Of Doubt and Taints of Blood, yes so it seems!
I'm the Child Of God, those who brand me mad,
They are themselves with swollen brains,
Blind Minds, Myopic Visions.
Mistaken notions, fractured wisdom.
Whenever I speak, I speak sense, filtered,
Buttered out of Nonsense, my words form a Froth Of Prudence!
How does it bequeath to me a dose of madness? I ask these Wise Wastrels,
Who often shout: " There goes the Crackpot ".
These incorrigible Skunks,
Are themselves lost,
Lost in a Cacophony of Snarlings,
Akin to those of Mad Dogs,
Heeeheeehee Heigh Ho!
@Kul Bushan Razdan Razdan