Mad, All Mad

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Madness, the say
Of people and animals
Men, women, children
Even dogs, yes dogs
They roam the streets
Day after day
Night after night
Time after time
Murmuring, sniggering
Sometimes yelling
Then whimpering
Mad, yes! Mad.

Insanity, they say
Of things living, breathing
Breathing? Not sure
But yes, it has to be
They look around
Eyes bloodshot
Bodies half-clad, walking
Paced not , staggering
Hands over genitals
Chuckling, pointing
People dodging
Insane, yes! Insane.

Psychosis, they say
Of everything, everything
Objects, people, nothing left
Voices, yes voices
Whispering, calling
Sometimes singing, beautiful
Other times mocking, unpleasing
Low giggle bursting, cracking
Dirt everywhere
They eat everything
Hand to mouth, hand to mouth
Psychosis, yes! Psychosis.

Lunacy, they say
Of us, yes us
Human voices, itching
They run and hide
Buried under leaves
Canceled under shrubs
Peeping, watching
Waiting for a signal
Attack, all they hear
Assault, all they understand
In the end nothing, emptiness
Lunatic, yes! Lunatic.

Please don’t ask what inspired this poem haha. I’ll tell you anyway. I once spent a year in a town where a lot of mad people reside. Okay, not the way you are probably imagining it, but yeah, insane people. The roam the streets and walk the markets. Madness here isn’t the type you put in a psychiatric hospital and await the recovery. No. This one is beyond recovery. Nothing can be done for them anymore. They even have a kind of superstition attached to it. Ok, don’t ask what I was doing there. My time there was necessary.

Away from that, we have always portrayed madness in a certain way, which is exactly the way I painted the above poem. But come to think of it. Could it mean more? Is there a possibility that something is hidden underneath the acts we see? No, I’m not mad. Just thinking. Lol.

Tell me your thoughts.