Yes, even madmen sometimes write rhymes. In fact, throughout history, it has been madmen who have contributed volumes of poetry to the libraries of the world. They were viewed as madmen at the time of their existence by those humans surrounding them. All in the midst of war, rape, chaos, power abuse, tyranny, child abuse, theft, murder, pillaging and book burnings. Oh, they were quite mad, indeed, to have sat down with pen and paper, quill and parchment or stone and chalk to leave their thoughts for the gleaning of others. One would think they would have been much too busy, with all the actions taking place about them. Nevertheless, they ridiculed the ridiculous and the sublime with riddles and rhymes; seeking some solution, respite, or solace. Or, perhaps, they really were mad. Oblivious to the recurrent madness all around them and in all our history books, content to live vicariously through their respective mediums. Hmmm...that makes me think of another time, another place, where unseen millions portray themselves as whatever or whomever they choose or fancy. Elves, faeries, goblins, skaters, sexual predators, con artists, artists and flim flam scammers all seem to have found a home, of late. Men posing as little girls and women portraying themselves as svelte, buxom beauties. Yes, poets, as well. Wherein lies the madness, the truth, the ridiculous or the sublime in this world? Well, while I will not say that my madness reveals anything other than my own particular madness, there is a wide range of subjects covered in my poetry which may or may not be my attempt to come to terms with the madness which I see around me. In truth, it seems that I am one madman in a world of madmen. If I choose to seek or propose answers through my words on a screen, it is because I have exhausted my wit and patience through all other channels. I am mad, not crazy. The difference may at first seem a minor one, especially to one outside the sphere of madness. A crazed person has not the wit to know, or be aware, that he or she is crazed or has lost any bit of intellectual faculty. The mad person knows quite well that his realm is of madness, and revels in the fact. Or not, depending on time of day and circumstances.

It is not my intent to bore you to madness, only to show you some poetry I have scribbled on the walls and floors here, in my realm. My miniscule piece of this huge world is covered in rhymes and fantasies, truths and fallacies, all related in only one aspect. They all deal with emotions. Love is not the only emotion which we humans are capable of feeling, so the poems I write are not only about love or heartbreak. I write about everything which captures my attention, for however small a time it takes for me to feel and want to explore the feeling with words on paper or screen. My poetry has been my truest friend, in every sense of the word. It has shown me things which no human being ever could, all the while allowing release for the emotions which a shy person might not otherwise find release for. So, it is my madness.

Where I have displayed the work of artists whose work I admired, there are links to them at the bottom of all pages, respectively. This page is of my own design and hard work. On pages with a blue heart, I used the work of my very dear friend, Molly, as backgrounds. Molly is a faux finisher, which means that she can make your walls look like the backgrounds shown. She is very talented. Please take the time to sign my ledger or post a wail, especially if you break something or find something broken. Most of all, let me know if you enjoyed your vist and please feel free to drop in anytime. My world is always changing.