top of page
Writer's pictureShirlin

Insanity



who is sane? madness runs us, if i could speak in tongues it’d drive the point home for the hypocrites—they’d make much of it as drunkenness, asserting rationality while logic fails them. there’s a portrait, three year old midget in school uniform with half a smile on tiny lips, even she regarded her reality far from sound mindedness. i still see her in the rear view tailing me, detailing this motion, accounting for recollections of brokenness from the very start; born into insanity—a transposed matrix, making all that is succumb yet encircling it like naught. explain this upside down world?

we are sane-the deceived, chasing stars, tasting little becoming less then, nothing at all-dust, from which man was formed. perishing in the craze of life's maze, panting for phantoms, painting phases of a life drenched in pools of everything—anything, that could tether pieces of ourselves. if only, to keep us buoyant on raging seas but these very ropes break and we hang from them into a damned eternity, Judas’s fate? yes, fated for unforeseen futures, dazed, fazed, falling always, failing to save face as the temple stones you were built with crumble. busy, reading between non existing lines.


plight and agony is as loudness reverberating with cries of a decaying world but not loud enough for deafened ears I guess. there’s rubble, ancient walls bury bloody bodies for some god-moloch. in the Middle East, fuel to fire births plumes of smoke and sometimes, mirrors for final glances before souls turn manic, what terror? kill or be killed, tyranny, naivety, the system is cannibalistic ask Cain+Abel. but wait, aren’t there long meets by high powers in DC and Brussels? “Russia’s advancing, Kim Jong Un is a menace…” oh, you mean the inhuman bastards? hounding, chewing down perks, declaring war on sin and death but doing little to less to nothing at all. well, save for selling out souls for a dollar or less! i thought we were priceless?



i’ve seen glassy eyes break, pleading mercy, the third eye could care less. victims hoaxed in a greater agenda, a global one, unruled, likened as God-undeterred, acclaiming order from chaos and…i’m mental? a conspiracy theorist? do gun me down, heck! shove down pills, cage me in psych, keep me in sane, will you? i know of invisible cuffs, heard survival is for the fittest, some struggle to exist. evolutionary nonsense is for dimwits i say, gagged, my compliance wavered and words slipped, bullet through the skull is as good riddance, one less body overpopulating earth. after all, there’s more troubling matters like sustainable goals. try talk me out of saying these are forces and realms in play, realism is but some theory, much is hidden from naked sight. discern that, maybe it will drive you less koo-koo.


sanity—overrated like the pompous, the base for insanity-a toxicity standardized by those with the agenda: one world! unity! peace! for hive minds and clones-cluelessly entertaining much talk but talk is cheap. let’s stare at the rainbow they defamed and hear make believes of unicorns as everything shatters, i bet you’ll blame YAH. find me in the wildness and hype with crowds eating trash expensively sold to stomach a normalcy which is of course false, like the father of it, the prince of the air, of this world-depraving it, depriving it of hope and repentance. stealing, murdering, destroying as from the beginning, justifying the unjust. making reason and sense in the senseless only for most to be consumed in the pit repudiated as hell. but hey, it feels like it already, this inferno, hailed by governments as sanity, slaughtering Jews wasn’t any dissimilar. ugh! i’d much rather delve on my insanity: of Truth as Peace from The Prince, of a second coming and great a salvation pondered amongst angels, even as assurance of a new body when the present one fades, a new heaven and new earth where both converge. for unto us a Child was born, the son of God, the Word embodied, King of all including what’s deemed as foolishness, insanity.


what’s your madness? i’m insane if that makes sane. i met the three year old, a decade ago and she eerily whispered “death’s been chasing you since birth saying you’ll meet him someday but what if you ate of the tree of life?”


one day, some day sound Sanity will reign but today i stick to my insanity.


23 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page