The Friendly Poem

By Turin Turambar


You can relate to this poem.

Because it is not written in scientific terms or in Elizabethean English.
Because it is not about anger or love or other confusing emotions.
Because it is not about war or other moral problems that would make you think or judge.
Because it is not about beautiful things that are boring to read about save by the poet.
Because it will not sadden you with truths that you have long repressed.
Because it does not try to teach you how to live.


You can relate to this poem,
it can be your friend.
It is moderate and sensible;
doesn't make you think hard or worry.
It just sits in your mind
and the warm words reassure you
that it is your friend.
All it wishes is for you to love
it and accept it, and thus,
it conforms to what you wish it
to be; moderate and sensible.
It is like your other friends
or a glass of water: nice and
refreshing while encountering it,
but not leaving an aftertaste.
Yes, you can really get to like
this sensible, friendly poem.


Rotting minds,
Hearing ghostly chimes,
In the dark, all alone.
Chemicals oozing
From the ears
Of the mad heroes,
Whispering insanity
For you and me.


Oh dear.
The poem,
once your friend,
has failed you.
It may be best now
to put aside the poem,
and try to forget it,
if you can.
All these years,
the poem has wanted only
to be your friend;
has thrust away its own
nature to do so.
But now, it has suddenly
gone mad.
We can detect the twisted
phrases between the lines
of this once sensible poem.


Oh, the poem, no doubt,
still wishes to be your friend.
But can you let it now?
After all, it will only serve
to remind you of your own
repressed self, which may try
to reclaim you soon, driving you