Of Man and Idiot

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is not meant to offend, but it is to say hey...do not judge others. It was intended for people who are not "normal..." Here is my question for you friends of the pen. What is "normal?"

Submitted: July 12, 2012

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Submitted: July 12, 2012

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An idiot is a man once you get to know him

 

with a heart of gold that a man don’t have,

 

raining the grass because no one understands.

 

Man loses the stars.

 

The sparkle.

 

The allure.

 

Through the years and years

 

in the wrinkles beneath his eyes.

 

He don’t see.

 

He can’t see.

 

His vision is blind by mist,

 

but the idiot believes.  And.

 

Streams still flow never drying in drought

 

in scorn still mystified to supernatural worlds.

 

To the magic of fairies.

 

To great visions of children.

 

He knows what love is because he is.

 

A man.

 

While man dries withered like a prune.

 

In sun.

 

 

No longer a man,

 

but an idiot

 

in dust to dust

 

so unhappy.  Man is.

 

When death becomes him.

 

 


© Copyright 2017 jmurch. All rights reserved.

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