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Mind Over Madness (Free verse) by drnick
My place in life, A familiar couch cushion, I sit and I slouch. Watch the lights smear, Laugh histerically, At the same old nothing. My good friend, His eyes shiver in his head, I think he may be dead, Start to think I am too. I have something to tell, With more words to spill, Than ashes in my ashtray. A moment of brilliance, Soft light throbs through, The old curtains can filter, But an epiphany shines askew. My mind is furious with thought, One million answers for you, Not one of them profound. And I've been here, Beyond all time it seems, Declared the meaning of life, Upon deaf ears and thought, "This must be what it's like To be crazy."

Down the ladder: don't touch me 2

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Arithmetic Mean: 6.2
Weighted score: 5.1430435
Overall Rank: 5388
Posted: July 20, 2006 7:50 AM PDT; Last modified: July 20, 2006 7:50 AM PDT
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Comments:
[n/a] drnick @ 24.176.22.254 | 20-Jul-06/7:51 AM | Reply
This is about drugs, and being on them.
[8] amanda_dcosta @ 202.164.136.176 | 20-Jul-06/8:02 AM | Reply
I see that you sum it up in your last lines. What I can't understand is why you guys take drugs.

That aside,it gives me something new to think about.
[7] Dovina @ 12.72.43.6 | 20-Jul-06/10:05 AM | Reply
It's great to sit around with a friend an get crazy, talk ceazy and laugh over a beer or a glass iof wine. I guess, having never done more, it seems unnecessary, but who am I to know. Not a bad description, I'd say.
[8] Ranger @ 86.131.60.174 | 20-Jul-06/1:19 PM | Reply
Good lines. I'm not yet certain which way your attitudes towards it are going, but I'll keep reading and work it out.
[8] ecargo @ 167.219.88.140 | 25-Jul-06/10:03 AM | Reply
You've got some interesting lines ("more words to spill than ashes . . . "; the old curtains filtering, etc.). You keep it simple and don't overexplain things and let the details carry the meaning rather than pointing everything out (which never fails to bore the crap out of me when people do it--either we get it or we don't; if you have to endlessly explain, the poem isn't getting it done. This gets it done.)

Good ending. Good poem.
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