Poem: The Mad Ones

Poem: The Mad Ones

The Mad Ones

This is for the mad ones

The ones who find themselves in the night sky

The stars flickering like flashing cameras

While they howl, nakedly, at the moon.

The mad ones who dance their mad dance

Flailing arms and slapping hands

Toothy smiles that stretch cheeks

And turn eyes into crows feet


The mad ones


Who feel without touching and

Walk without rushing, who

Listen intently to the whispers of the wind, who

Acknowledge the divine that’s within, who

Don’t define, categorize, or judge

Reminding us of our humanity

Who don’t budge when faced with calamity

Eternally grateful for the gifts they’ve been handed




The Few

Who stay in the flow

Who grow

Who shape

Who slow

Down and pay attention


The mad ones


Who hug longer than necessary, who

Hold and squeeze

Who talk to trees, birds, and bees because . . .

They listen, who

Seize the moment, who

Gaze into eyes unabashedly



The mad ones


So misunderstood

Too this

Too that

Too human

Too free

Too us

Too we to see imaginary lines that cut and crop

Distorting the big picture


The mad ones


Who refuse to be blinded by scripture, who

Acknowledge that quote unquote reality is really some fucked up mixture—

A crooked cocktail of half-truths and lies

Who needs proof when skies are filled with man-made clouds

Such man-made shrouds of human like things we’ve become

Drab machines running outdated software living in a lab unseen—


A hologram


A hallow


Scam of a place . . .

Where’s the life

Where’s the love

What is this

Why is this


Stop it, you sound mad.


Well . . .

I am mad

We’re all mad

Mad with a lust for experience

Adventure, for

Connection, for

Infinite possibilities

Maybe . . .

You should be mad too.