Cathartic Head-Banging

Okay, thank you, feeble minded misanthrope,
you’ve saved the day for me, I won’t have to look
through lists of esoteric thoughts to find a subject
rich with music wrought for my creative energy.

Trawl the sorry seas my friend, abuse the stately
ships which glide less small-mindedness and petty
innuendo, cast your crude aspersions in a calumny
of rancid, leach-like wit – to me it matters not a bit.

Bottom-dwellers see another World who’s light
fills weak & wretched eyes with stars too bright
to contemplate as sane and rational ideologies,
frame instead deranged and blighted surreality.

To live well cure your sickness with shades that
filter bright lights you think you see; you dwell in
a diseased and falling-down hovel of bad belief
where your rhymes clash like broken cymbals.

But hey, thank you man, you saved the day for me,
you’re a therapeutic grand offering, fanfare with
ribbons and bunting and whistles – a metaphoric
train of mind-freeing, cathartic head-banging.
© 19 October 2007, I. D. Carswell