A Cautionary Tale – #2
Swatting at the empty air before me
I’m plagued with a fevered imagination
Beset by angry bees.
I have just enough knowledge to be dangerous
And do some considerable damage
If I am set free.
Add to that a passing acquaintance with words
And this becomes a volatile mix.
Excitetable and hair-triggered.
I am not to be trusted.
The pen and the sword and all that …..
Well and truely noted.
But should that sword be wielded,
Evil may ensue
And I am no longer responsible.
This accursed lens,
It is a bedevilling experience.
Sight that stares askance
And stance that sits akimbo.
Both offer perspectives
That I’m driven to express,
Odd though that expression may be.
I’m driven to this extreme by a quiet madness,
An unsubtle mania
That periodically grips me.
I don’t see any clearer
During these episodes,
I simply see different.
Sorry, no moral clarity here,
No revelations,
But I see different things.
I see different things differently,
Things from a different perspective
Things for which I have no name.
And so I’m forced to be creative,
Outlining these shadowy things
In strange terms.
Explaining terms in terms of terms.
I grow exhausted chasing my own tail
To that end I pursue the odd mania.
I develop a love for the pain they inflict.
I feel driven to something I cannot see,
Don’t yet have the words to describe.
But, I’m driven to words like an addict
Getting that first taste of something really good.
Not just wanting more
But needing more,
As driven as any lycanthrope
Thirsting for blood and soil.
That path is well worn
And littered with intentions
That were less than good
And more than bad.
I skipped merrily on my way,
For a time
And have come to a conclusion:
I am no further along
Than I was when I began.
So I throw out these two questions
With with every line I write:
“What do I see that you do not?”
“What do you see that I do not?”
Seeking the answers to those questions
Drives me to write these lines.
Palimpsest 
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