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Dementia, a poem

Updated on July 12, 2013

The Thief

Great names, riches, rank, laughable,

no lock or key keeps out bedlam...

Moses, Augustus.. Caractacus...

no distinction will be made.

Father Mother, Brother, Friend,

attachment will not save you, or them,

uncare-full rifler upend no more

ignonimous fortune -

smirked at,

the clink of gold and silver

no ward or talisman against this,

this awful forgetfulness,

forgetting the name of the moon,

or earth or sky,

and pisses in corners,

no place is home,

one goes roaming

in circles,


in diapers.

What is left to do?

The puzzle remains unanswered,

yet, for moments on end,

the mind may be beguiled by geranium leaf,

the scent of clover,

the kiss of a dog,

a passing cloud,

smiles and laughter,

and a good meal,

Eclesiastes wrote all is vanity,

so long ago,

in the the end,

all is vanity.



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    • lilyfly profile image

      Lillian K. Staats 4 years ago from Wasilla, Alaska

      Actually Clark, I have a lot of work to do on this poem. I am, as you say, just trying to get the thing said, but I've pretty much just clunked down the charcoal on this one... Mr. Cook, would you like to light the fire?

      I think I want to know how this thief, Dementia , takes down even the most beautiful mind. We have a client here, that has a painting in one of our museums up here in Alaska. I'm going to go see it, first chance.

      these people have souls, hearts, memories, they're just a little hidden.

      much love to all, lily

    • moonfroth profile image

      Clark Cook 4 years ago from Rural BC (Canada) & N of Puerto Vallarta (Mexico)

      Keats's poem declares famously, "beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty/That is all ye know on earth/and all ye need to know". The relationship is thus instantaneously reciprocal, which is logically absurd,,,and that structural absurdity is obfuscated further when the subject matter is dark, insidious, destructive, and evil in its results. One can see such blackness participating in Truth..........but BEAUTY? Last year Edvard Munch's THE SCREAM sold at auction for a few dollars short of $120 million, the largest amount ever for a painting at auction.

      ,,,,,,,,,,,,I'm getting there! I 've only had half a cuppa coffee!....

      How can there be Beauty in a panting that celebrates unspeakable hell and torment ? How can there be Beauty in this poem that celebrates the destruction of a human mind? By discovering a form, a mode that enables poet and reader to SEE the inner core of this evil, and thus understand. Lily's poem is like a casual dramatic monologue--two peple waiting for a cab, sitting down to dinner, chatting. By casting the content in this casual mold, the subject itself becomes a simple fact of if memories are all you have, enjoy them richly. They are your world.....but wait! that's not really a bad thing, a "less than" thing--it simply IS. That insight is carried on the wings of the form of the poem. Lily is fond of saying, "what the hell! i don't do all this stuff....i just write!" Yeah, like a Lamborghini "just" goes down the road.

    • Mhatter99 profile image

      Martin Kloess 4 years ago from San Francisco

      Nice reflection, thank you.

    • AudreyHowitt profile image

      Audrey Howitt 4 years ago from California

      Great write!