Waking up is hard to do,
I'm in my own empire.
Like birdie I escaped, I flew
away from inner fire.
The voices told me to be certain
to hide the window pane
by putting up the iron curtain,
or they would go insane.
My brother's blood
is in the printer,
I wear bandanas on my head,
my name is Elo-esius Ginter,
I hail from Eastern Europe, hear.
I have a knife, well hidden,
to cut my hair,
please do not fear.
And noises are forbidden.
I get precise instructions now
from inside my elusive brain
and if they plan destruction - WOW,
I'll go insane, I am insane.
You talkin' funny,
all of you.
And have you bugged my room?
And slipped a gadget in my shoe?
A camera with zoom?
I know your tricks
and Bush is King.
Him and the CIA.
He said I was a Dingeling,
that I was not okay..
He wants to test the masses, all
for mental clarity.
That mother - F*****
has the gall
to fake so much sincerety.
My eyes are slanted, I dance a bit,
and chant and hum while shaving.
My former boss, that pompous twit,
he sacked me for my raving.
In school it started when a teacher
had called me to the front.
And said 'Are you a fruity preacher',
and laughed
I didn't. Called him 'cunt'.
It seems that all my nights
are different from my days.
At night I fly my kites,
my days are one big haze.
I may be schizophrenic,
hear voices from above,
but just like the Titanic
my bunks are full of love.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/voices-8/
