HA! A night without rain again
Leaving me without gain
Outcast thought without pain
As he strolled on the lane
Been ages passing in stages
Living out on life’s fringes
So long it no longer itches
That he can’t always get his wishes
Sun or moon may not shine today
People may stay or stray
Outcast will still sing and pray
Even when it’s Trouble’s day of play
Don’t you hiss and hate
He has enough on his plate
You envy his undisturbed state
But don’t see when he’s desperate
Take another look please
See what ruffles his peace
See how he became this
What made him a nutpiece
BACKGROUND: Times I deliberately choose to stroll back from work. This night, I just felt like screaming out and audio-recording my next poem to later find ways of putting the words into writing. I can’t exactly make a song of it because of my scary voice. I found myself talking out loud about this character of my next poem -the Outcast. Need I say passers-by may have thought me mad!
The Outcast doesn’t quite give much care for some of our norms and values. He lives as though he were dead and not part of us. He is somewhat detached from the world we know. We are slightly pissed when he doesn’t show the aggression or passion we expect in some everyday issues. We can’t always expect him to take sides with us. He doesn’t hurt or insult us, and he is mostly calm and composed -maybe a little TOO peaceful/happy, and so we see him as impractical, odd or loose-nutted.
We never realise he has huge issues he is battling with. His concerns for some other thing completely absorb him. His obsession with another life has affected the way he treats this one.
Well then, we do well to call him mad, yes?
As you may have guessed, I didn’t say exactly he was obsessed with because that’s out of my pen, but I know HOW EASY IT IS TO BECOME SOMETHING/ONE ELSE AND YOU ARE NOT EVEN AWARE OF IT!)