#madman
A mad man laughing crazily outside a hospital,
just a lighter in his bleeding hand.
Smell of burning wood,
screams drowning in fire and blood.
Blue pajamas he wore, red streaks of liquid
all over him,
No.413.
Firetruck and ambulance arrive.
But it was too late, only silence
prevailed, along with crackling noises.
" I never did anything to them. "
he said to a charred corpse.
" You people didn't believe me. "
With an exaggerated smile, he claimed
" It was the truth you people created—
Not me. "
Raziel Vale
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 5:54 AM UTC
There once was a madman
Lost in his own world and
He'd talk to the breeze
And climb up tall trees and
The madman he saw
Ghosts and unseen things
A world of sorrow sharp and keen
Cold and alone and he's
Beneath a sky of grey and gold and
His secrets locked his journey done
The madman sleeps his spirit flown.
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 6:57 PM UTC
The madman watches from the pores of the city
Housed tightly like a life in the confines of chest
Sky howls and lures it outwards, bulbous and beating
The windowsills loosen their grips, hang pitiful
On the precipice, as a blind disquiet looms
Silence yawns, and then chaos sneezes
Opening wide the madman's heart
Then, a big rumble wakes the streets as he prepares for riot
People-pupils jig in their pools
Exuberant at the disturbed show
Almost, it seems, that a thousand past sunsets
Might flip over the world
And walk unleashed as man upon man
As man among men in song has done
Almost, but the moment sags again
And the sordid stillness bars everything-
Oct 17, 2023
Oct 17, 2023 at 12:44 AM UTC
The mad man that we all knew,
Was lost in his own mind,
A tortured soul, misunderstood,
His thoughts, too intricate to find.
But in his madness, he found joy,
A comfort in his pain,
The world outside seemed a blur,
But inside, he was sane.
In his mind, he saw magic,
And colours so alive,
A world that no one else could see,
A place where he could thrive.
He found solace in his delusions,
And strength in his darkest days,
His madness brought him clarity,
In a world of chaotic ways.
Through his madness, he found art,
And wrote his own symphony,
A beautiful piece of music,
That only he could see.
Though we called him a mad man,
He was truly just unique,
A soul that danced to his own beat,
And found joy in his mystique.
So let us not judge the mad man,
For he found his joy in insanity,
And though his mind was perceived as broken,
He truly lived his own reality.
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 6:14 AM UTC
**** the insanity,
Scream without sounds,
The voice of yours already shut down,
Your emotion goes on and off,
You can’t move,
There is mystery hands strain you,
Invisible whisper said,
"Welcome to the world of a madman"
**** the madman
They caress him like he is their only son,
And left him alone in the room of white,
Where he is the only one left,
as red starting to color the room,
Slowly enter his body,
Become one.
The madman of the century,
Sadistic killer,
thirst of blood never enough,
A world without a hero,
Jun 10, 2022
Jun 10, 2022 at 3:40 AM UTC
O God!
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Torture my heart, O God!
If you so desire, leave me a madman, O God!
Have I asked for the moon and stars?
Enlighten my heart and give my eyes sight, O God!
We have all seen this disk called the sun,
Now give us a real dawn, O God!
Either relieve our pains here on this earth
Or make my heart granite, O God!
Hereafter
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since we met and parted, how can we sleep hereafter?
Lost in each others' remembrance, must we not weep hereafter?
Deluges of our tears will keep us awake all night:
Our eyelashes strung with strands of pearls, hereafter!
Thoughts of our separation will sear our grieving hearts
Unless we immerse them in the cooling moonlight, hereafter!
If the storm also deceives us, crying Qateel!,
We will scuttle our boats near forsaken shores, hereafter.
Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, God, heart, eyes, sight, madman, moon, stars, tears, pearls, mrburdu
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 5:02 AM UTC
They speak to the madman,
Suppression, subversion, detraction,
A vocabulary of ‘less than’.
They speak to the madman,
To the loveless and the wounded,
The self-doubting ego.
They speak to the madman,
A consort of shadows,
Recurrent with paradox.
_Until...uncertain as to the integrity of my own thoughts,
Understudied by self-censure and distrust,
I pause to listen in silence to the silence which listens back._
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 3:39 AM UTC
i don't why peoples
today like sugar-dusted lies
than a star-dusted truth
why so?
is that because those are
god's sacred candies,
you can't bribe on
your way to the sky
he will feed your bitter truths
who knows?
even he would be a scammer
or
turns into racist by this time
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 4:30 PM UTC
something isn't nothing
I don't like it when people consider the minute nothing
I don't like it at all
something is wrong with that belief
to consider the small unimportant
the microscopic non-existent
meaningless
purposeless...
a figment of pure imagination
a non sequitur of time
as if size itself is the only factor of what is...
dismissing reality is a fatal flaw
for when that insignificant nothing
infects you
replaces your meaningless parts with rot
turns your own body against you
discards the fabric of your meaningless existence thread by thread into the null--
when your state triggers the process of decay
slowly killing you--
while the residual effects trigger the mechanisms of the minds of those around you to start discarding your future--
while every memory becomes thinner
when you start fading
walking your own path to becoming emptiness
to become the thing you dismiss
to become dismissed
from reality
from life
but slowly enough
to realize you want to live
to have that thing you didn't believe...
existed--
you will beg for something
and receive true nothing
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 7:37 AM UTC
The mad man sat in a tower
Wishing for power
Instead he was chained
And slowly went more and more insane
As he wished for revenge
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 3:46 AM UTC
Tonight I ponder purpose,
a reason for existance,
the force to my resistance,
and food for my superstitions.
What am I, a producer or consumer?
who am I, the savior or the ender?
I live to wonder why and how to compromise these feelings
deep inside this organic device.
Icll pay the price to my destiny lender
while waiting still for my untimely surrender but first a question to the future:
where is your expectation
under examination?
I need some inclination,
a simple indication,
perspiration of inspiration.
The sun could shine through
yet my space is always shaded.
I'll try to block my eyes
to the half that's always jaded;
make tribulations no longer be berated.
Someone give me the weight
I've waited to feel for so long
because my body aches
for a chance to grow strong.
Dec 7, 2019
Dec 7, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
I make no more assertions the world,
as a whole, will ever adequately define its morality.
People fluctuate in their ideal
too much.
We often try to make them concrete
from a spectrum of principles.
We may even reach an agreement;
a certain stalemate to an issue.
Though I know there will always be
opposition, it is an unavoidable constant.
And so, in the end, every debate is
nothing more than a lasso to a cyclone.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
My toes are frozen, my fingers are pale
And my lips are purple and blue, purple and blue
The cold shrouds me in an icy veil
And the sky has no colour, not a single hue
The wind howls with its darkest fury
And the trees are swaying with gaining fervour
The splattering hail makes the windows blurry
And the darkness prevails, no longer obscure
I stand at the heart of this bitter storm
Waiting for it to sweep me away
To wipe my thoughts just as they form
To the Land of Death, this is my gateway
So consume me, within, without
Burn me, with your frigid rage
I am a madman without a doubt
Who's been left too long inside a cage
With one last laugh, I look at the sky
Up and away, I watch my soul fly
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 10:53 AM UTC
"He's either a madman or a poet."
"Can't I be both?"
"You already are."
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 8:39 AM UTC
Circles of chalk mend thy breakage
Follow the whisper to know end
Propose a query that might find no answer
Choose to follow that path of the madman send
Silent they wake with their ears tipped slight
Shake the feathers off your shoulders
Wrap tight in hand the skeletal kite
Flight is not with a heavy heart;
But with those who choose to jump first
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton/episodes/Quest-ionic--a-reading-aloud-e2hncq
that links begins at the oldest of my poems here, which are nearing
the point of no return, maybe only because people cant tell me that hate them here, but more likely,
because some of of ya'll liked 'em writ, ye might like 'em said.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
Wander into my mind.
I dare you.
You can go left into the north where the pool of mayhem swims.
Or up into the undergrowth known for the drawings of the mad man.
Choose to drift sideways and discover you will the drips of knowledge from the domain of hell.
Or take a chance over that way in my very own misfit lane.
If you are lucky to locate the memory tree knock six times and she will welcome you if only I deem you worthy.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:47 PM UTC
The scrawlings of a madman
Stuck in my head
They aren't meant to be seen
And certainly not read
Insanity through carvings
The life that I led
For the period of time
That I lived my life dead
Black rivers of nonsense
Like the blood that I shed
The words on the paper
Hang by a thread
The scrawlings of a madman
Slain in my bed
Poisonous ink
My appetite fed
Just ****** and repeated
My limp body spread
Crystal white sheets
Now dripping with red
Ripped open too wide
From the places I bled
The logical lunacy
Fills me with dread
The scrawlings of a madman
All wisdom has fled
Turn the next page
And forget what I said
It seems I forgot
The demons I wed
The scrawlings of a madman
Came from my head.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
Dripping
from the neck
to your collarbones
the sweat on your skin
meets your musky perfume
and leaves a scent
which makes my heart
run like a mad man.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Attentive, attentive, I was,
wrapped in your insanity
and hypnotically agreed
to ****** your parents
out of passion and love
for the menacing you.
we escaped chases
like true madmen,
and for a moment you
felt like my forever after.
I wondered why I still love you,
even when I figured that
you sold me out to the cops
and ended up questing for
another partner-in-crime
by yourself.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
Gonzo
Is often called a barroom poet slash outlaw .
Who's work has been featured in some mags that clearly do not care about good taste or morals .
When not living as a total recluse drinking his liver silly and watching **** He often enjoys long drives by himself picking up hookers but enough bout his ex wife.
His short stories usually revolve around some demented ******* much like himself .
He currently resides in hell or as others call it North Carolina .
Where him and his dog share drinks and take turns being the designated drunk driver .
His work will probably give you a contact high or at least the clap.
Enjoy .
And stay crazy .
Gonzo
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC