The Other Poems

A hundred years from now they will find them
and wonder at the madness in each verse,
the desires, the wild stumbling
of a heart unregulated, a heart too full
to make sense or peace with the world around it,
a heart that spill on these dark pages
the other truths that plague me at all hours.

They will understand I am nothing they know,
neither the demon or saint they imagine,
but something uncommonly common,
blood and flesh and a mind so unsure of himself
that he seeks and seeks and at times,
discovers something like wisdom, mixed in the madness
like some cosmic stew, God’s own Jambalia,
spicy and exotic and full of mystery,
heaven on the tongue with a touch of hell
just to remind you
it is there.

About this poem

I am amazed when I hear others talk about me. I rarely recognize myself. I am neither as bad or as good as they say. I am so ordinary. But it does leave me wondering sometimes, who’s right – them or me?

Tom