The Lunatic's Recital

The Lunatic’s Recital

He came spluttering onto the stage, to un-aplause,

To hanging, half-open mouths, this time it was their turn to drool unconsciously.

While under the whispering lights he gave a gap-toothed grin,

And grabbed the microphone with sweaty paws,

The manager, in horror, wondered who had let him in.

But before he could protest the lunatic let fly his poetry,

And words emerged from the dark recesses of his mind,

The opening salvo bursting forth like bubbles,

Bouncing of walls, to finally settle, in profanities wake, on dinner plates.

The audience blanched at his indelicacy, shuffling nervous forks,

No longer sure how to proceed under the lunatic’s spell.

Now he spoke softly, and coloured the air a million different hues,

His inconsistency the very thing that touched upon delight,

And fed embarrassed dreams.

Blinkered it seams they had been, pitifully polite,

Not now, not now they had heard the lunatic recite.