The Boy Was Simple But Never Sane

The words of birds are forever planted
We drift back into the territory of Menagerie
Tearing up the shreds of the tickets
The boy was simple but never sane
The terrorist never rests from his campaign
The heat outside is never for you
Overload of the beast, charring smoke
Come dance, come dance! the beast is come!
Not knowing how is not no excuse
Topping the gasoline before lighting the fuse
Searing the pain from the flesh with a flame
Seeking the manager of life-forms
The beasts are not to be trifled with
Detangling marks to the fore
Needling the oceans for their toxins
Ripping a portal into their floors
Broken by solids, torn by the room
Identifying marks all mixed and stirred
Observations collecting inside of your head
Robbing lions of their tea
Sifting through oxygen and the weather
Alack and arrack, the dirty boy’s home
Eaten by reptiles over by the river
Tipped to the waste by alert citizens
Trembling from the fear of the harpies
Trembling from dread of the night ethereal
Steps on the way to your doom
Some gasp and some sing, while some dance in rings
Denying the power will do you no good
‘Ribbit’ the frog goes ‘Cthulhu’ say beasts
No way out and no way around
Some will go with it, some be destroyed

This is an example of what I call a non-linear poem, where the lines are written all out of order although there is sometimes coordination, not pure stream of consciousness. I actually wrote down the order they came in on this one if people get very interested I could type it up. Enjoy!

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