I’m dedicating this piece to a good friend Archangel. Please check out his work on YouTube and support the debt of poetry expressed beyond paper. He’s not demented though, he’s just an amazing poet.
Encourage the Spoken Word!!! 🙂
THE DEMENTED POET: PART TWO
I am staring at a well,
Clear with a soft chiming… like a bell
I know it’s impossible to hear,
But I’m well aware, of the powers this well can bear
I’m waiting at the well,
Diane should be out anytime soon.
I helped her down the well,
But she’s not been out since the last full moon.
The moon reflects in the well,
Red like the image of hell
I suddenly see my dear Diane in the well
And that was when I tripped and fell
I’m falling down the well
Flames instead of water entrap me in this cell.
I hear the soft chiming— like a bell,
And Diane’s screams, I sure can tell.
I wake up, and there’s no well,
And Diane is alive and well.
I never killed her, we were never dead,
So I guess it was all in my head.