Down the pub [d’Verse that is] the form of Ruba’i was introduced to me forthe first time. It looked like a challenge I might try and rise to.
If you know the Beatles song, I am the Walrus and know anything of its origins, then you might understand where I am coming from.
Throw in a question that has often made me sit and ponder for a long time. “Does a crazy man actually know he is crazy”? and you have quite a concoction.
So I dont know, I tried to mix this trio up and come up with something that made sense but didn’t. Is this what its like to be mad? Readers, whoever they may be, will make their own minds up. I know what I set out to do and Ithink I just about got there, but the rubaiyat is most definitely open to debate.
Bullets Blow Minds
In trampoline corner, a breeze softly sighs?
A clock strikes midnight, a new born dies,
Flowerless gardens sat under moons stare,
Long memories scorched into unseeing eyes.
Sleighbells ringing on a midsummers eve?
A cats eye wink as I rise up to leave,
Concrete graveyards hidden from view,
A collage of tricks my mind gaily weaves.
Ears assailed by garage house grunge?
Into the mosh pit skater boys plunge,
Sailing on turbulent ocean crescendos,
Images, lies, only bullets expunge.