I have forgotten my folly and I think of myself as a poet...
-------------------------------------------------
I 'm a classic style
But I make it a bit eccentric.
A circuit that's gone rogue .
I didn't choose to be a neuro-wanderer
due to a synesthetic artistic gift
trapped in a blog ...
I post poems in the form of a morning jihad,
a duty without blessing on life's weariness...
Inspired nutcase !
Mantra to exorcise marble .
I think in gibberish that no one understands .
My life made in melodreams .
an old piano tells me incredible stories
which I pretend to believe ...
I also love that faithful out-of tune -violin
that was part of every melancholic scores
and the eternal feedback, too ...
I've always gotten lost on familiar paths ,
where I was waiting for a missed dating ...
So ,I robbed the social bank that did not give
my genius any credit ...
Born to be out with the metric of the system .
I learned to glide on atmospheric fantasy...
And to say politely '' Hello good bye ! ''
To the lady object of my desire...
Some idiots think that happiness
is being alone together .
To be both victim and persecutor...
I don't bother attending the christening
of still born loves ...
I didn't choose to be a neuro- drifter .
Thing of an ambivalent abstraction ,
no one escape the sign of the zodiac .
I don't laugh at harlequin's antics .
My place reserved in the human comedy .
Without really knowing wether Iam
an actor or a spectator ?
Maybe a gladiator ...
I turn away from Punch puppet's compulsions .
Wild intellect running along the ceiling
like an acrobat on a spider's threat ...
I didn't choose to be a neurodivergent...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 17th, 2026 10:34
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments3
We are all divergent from the mean with a small standard deviation, the standard error is at p is less than point zero zero one. Significance is established statistics don't lie but liars use statistics
The worst thing is to end up a poet without realizing it !
They call that a c section
I trust the specialist !
Lorenz, this resonated with me. Many creative people eventually discover they spend part of their lives feeling slightly out of step with the systems around them. The challenge then becomes learning not merely to tolerate that difference, but to create from it. This poem brought that thought to mind immediately. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
I remember a time where gifted children were seen as mentally disabled. So I acted like a prat !
This is a complex, painful, yet incredibly beautiful lens, translating the static of a broken circuit into pure poetry.
To fix the circuit is condemn oneself to banality ...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.