# My God! You Lunatic!

**Published by:** [Compossible - that which can live together](https://paragraph.com/@compossible/)
**Published on:** 2025-04-14
**Categories:** poetry, god, madness, illness, fascism
**URL:** https://paragraph.com/@compossible/my-god-you-lunatic

## Content

Each morning I awakeAnd shake my tired headAnother day...I heat the old cold coffeeThen the panic hits me'My God!, you lunatic!What have you done?Look what you wrote!Do you remember what you said?You imagined it all!'Dreadful waking fever dreamsCursed amygdalan frenzies...Then it starts againA sinking seeping sadnessCreeping inThat feeling of this worldBreakingLike waves of the seaCrashing on us, on meSuffering swellingHate virus spreadingUntil empathy is madnessAnd if you're not insaneIn this way, in this worldYou too must be crazy(And again the wordsOr my skills fail me)These days I often fall out of bed(Stupefied by senseless times)I stand to attentionReady again to wrestle 1That dark angel2A never-ending warAt best, to drawUnspeakable soundsFrom out of thin airIsn’t so much pain-earned artJust a richer descriptionOf the ‘self’ in fall?The craft keeping aliveA feeling of complete controlYet, it is only masteryOf the strokes we use to traceThe destruction of that placeWe thought our homeThe song of a soulThat must suffer to growCrying out, in a kind of praiseFor God's most awfulGifts of grace3The unwanted loved lamentResonatingEach reverberatingBreaking heartAnd though we poets knowOur universe ensuresAll fools who singThe Truth must failYet, still we vowTo speak that truth(The part we are blessed to hear)UntilThe endFootnotes:Read my 'translation' of Rilke's 'The Watcher'“...Because you do not wrestle with your angel. Because you dare to live without God. Because your cowardice has led you to believe that the victor does not limp.“ (Leonard Cohen, 'Book of Mercy')"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God" (Aeschylus c.525–456 bc, from 'Agamemnon')AI generated image

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