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An Angry Dance

April 5, 2016

Could it be from ants

Crawling up my pants

Or an angry dance

With cognitive dissonance


It could be the strain,

Placed upon my brain

To try and refrain

What happens again


It could be the fear

The gray between my ears

For that which is clear

Might not really be here


Part of the frustration

Is my imagination

Seeking clarification

To my damnation


Carlin, who is now gone

Joined the big electron

The laughter lives on

With each awakening dawn


For Hicks it is a ride

What kind, I  can’t decide

Only to deride

Avoid a suicide


That is my drive

Of which I strive

Not to survive

But to be alive


With little finesse

I digress

Hate to confess

I’m a mess


A coin,  two sides. Has to be

Trouble is, I see at least three

From these thoughts to be free

Seem to can’t,  me being me


A strange reality

Seeing the duality

With opaque clarity

Of spirituality


A rage inside,  it does vent

Unfortunately all too frequent

I would buy, or even rent

Anything to be congruent


Cuts like a knife

This life of rife

Inside my head of strife

Must be hell to be my wife


Under a double edge sword

I give you my word

With this you may be floored

I’d be happy being bored


The thoughts that I wreak

Should not pass the cheek

For if I do speak

Exposes the freak


Furtively overt

Asleep or alert

Exposed, yet covert

Remain silent or blurt


How to stop this dichotomy

Without a lobotomy

Don’t try and be me

Or you will not be free


My life it would enhance

If by perhaps or perchance

Just one less dance

With cognitive dissonance

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