A Crazy Case of Cranial Contortion

 Featured art by Wangechi Mutu. Click title image to visit her studio.

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Emancipator “Anthem”

Words swirl within my cranium as though whispers through the atrium
Blooming akin to the very wildest of geranium as they hustle and bustle through the stadium of my mind
This palladium designed to host a whole host of rhythms circadian
Paraded in such a way as to reach into outer space and breach the inner playgrounds of time
Racing their way around the very same grounds harboring the barb of self-doubt
The ones solely responsible for cause of fraught chronicle with proximal aim of the meltdown
Simply paradoxical, these impossible popsicles pop with a logic some way beyond improbable
More than neurological and warned as pathological, they stomp with all the pomp of something deemed as cosmological
This inside job a one stop shop for nonstop thoughts illogical
Endorsing theological advancement
No time or space for disenchantment, too much to impart to start embarking on the marking of such farcical commandment
Hardened are these veterans of heartened, soul-felt betterment
And better yet, the trend they set is hell-bent on the pardoning of every darkened artery through artistry
Remarkably discarded for a length of time regarded as obscene
This bombardment more than bargained for apart from in my very wildest dreams
There I dare to set the scene from mezzanine to gardens of the evergreen
Douse each passing thought I sought to court in pools of kerosene
Lighting up a blaze that spreads like wildfire, yet somehow all the while remains decidedly serene
Keen to reach within and touch the part of me not party to suggestion that I’m any less than seen
The soul bankrolled to roll out the red carpet just to garment every gown of thoughts to number many thousand noughts profound
Deep within the vaults of me, I conjure up the sorcery
And that once deemed as flaunting just for haunting me is shown up for its falsity
So thoughtlessly ignored as I ostensibly implored the very end of me with no sense and relentlessly incautiously
Formerly hoarded, these recordings never seen and only ever heard inaudibly
Suddenly on course to cause a scene without a pause or hesitation as I faced the demon, chased it from the crawl space within which it tucked away
This altered beast, once thought to be the kind inclined to sign the dotted line to the endorsement of me falling into pieces
Now fully fought my corner as I faced up to that taunting me, informing I’d no longer be fraught by luckless fate
Final thoughts now first and thirsting changes
And all the while thoughts swirl about my cranium

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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