Crazy

Crazy, crazy, crazy is this life,
You think you have some grasp
But find you are dancing
With a corpse of maggots
So you steel yourself
Become uptight,
Anal,
The clock is ticking,
Time is money
Money is blood –
You need more
To get THERE
You need dough that rises
Need /kneed
It a lot.
Butter!
Spread the butter

So you wake from that nightmare screaming
Spin around 180 and let go;
Become cool stoned grooving but still lame;
Horrible things stop me!
Like who you really are
Without the tendencies
That decide
What we do

Love does not need a reason – love rules
Don’t ask me why –
You will only get because
I will
Set my Sights on God
Not on money, power or pleasure
I know this seems foolish
To search for some abstract idea beyond comprehension
And well…get nothing
Be nobody
Crazy man
So dig it –
dig like there is a bottom to the BS
When you find it
Stand and Look up –
Behold –
We are here!

Wilson Hill

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About Ijagun Poetry Journal

Ijagun Poetry Journal is a quarterly journal that provides a platform from which we can tell our own stories in the authenticity of their multiplicity through the poetic medium. We don’t want to hear these stories from our master “griots” alone; we want to hear from those mastering their art, too. Hence, we aim at publishing new and emerging poets. We also welcome the works of established poets in order to encourage the poetic genius of those mastering poetic art. We prize original works that conform to, break or reinvent conventions. Again, we accept reviews and critical essays on poetry. We also accept powerful art works and photographs that make us appreciate the "poetry" in everything.
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