...just simply crazy:  me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMIV)


Be modern art.  Don't merely wear a sense
Of twisted souls in anguish, that detail
Seen only on the runway to avail
Is't buyers of the tortured folk which thence
Are writhing whilst they trot amongst us? whence
Designers new upon the scene cull frail
Half notions of it in their wildness' scale
Of "clothing," music pumping out that hence.
Thus Yamamoto's girls looked pained in tour;
Ike Seungik Lee's um, clowns which played all through
Their catwalk, to effect.  Chanel as twere
Conserv'tive was't?  I can't see how but to
Be stylish is pure madness, though tis poor
To call it that.  Just laugh at me, won't you?

10Mar18c

I compose
right cheek on pillow
cool eye towards the morning
the greatest poem
ever
but
the words vanish
and I cannot not bring them back

so

I pick up my phone
TAP TAP the vilest thing I can imagine
send it out to the world
where
O
so many
throw their
***
against it.

Lady said
"Shut up about the storm
else you'll be in one"
Charming, I thought

The  leaves  now  saying
a  sad  farewell.

To  the  trees  they
have  adorned  so  well.

Yes,  autumn  glory  is  here.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.