Jerome L. Jenkins

TO THE SHALLOW PSYCHOLOGIST

Your gravest thoughts of morbidness—
Are in my mind pure lucidness.
You sailed my thoughts so buoyantly,
Their darkened depths ye couldn't see.
Your vision's a blurred—
Conceitedness,
Your Auditing's curbed—

By Artlessness.
Oh he who evaluates simple minds;
Oh he who has sought but may never find;
Your mind from mine is far away:
I fight with night, you play with day.
You pleasure—
In your joyful ease;
I suffer!—
From a mind's disease.
My mind's a hopeless, shameful wretch!
What cure, Oh Psych, shall then you sketch?
You've swum no tears my heart has wept;
You've probed my mind but shallow depths.
I guess … I'm the puzzle … that makes you mad;
The puzzle … you wish … to solve so bad.
But you can't grasp … what you can't see,
And you can't know … what you can't be.
"A cure for me"? You haven't one!
Your cure's but for the deaf and dumb,
For they can't see … your image clear;
Yopu've filled their hearts so full of fear!
But keep in mind they're merely lame,
And unlike you, they're free of blame.
You've preyed on those … with simple cures,
And left my ills … to grow for years;
Years I've dwelt … in timelessness;
Alone within … my morbidness.

Jerome L. Jenkins

   •   •   •   •   •

ALTHOUGH I

Though with the flesh I dwell—
I feel as if my soul is hell.
I feel the scorching flames of fear.
I feel as if my heart is seared.

Although I see the world around—
I feel my place I've never found.
I feel the truth my veiling hides.
I feel I've searched with blinded eyes.

Although my ears may listen clear—
I feel the deaf can better hear.
I feel the shrills that rend the skies.
I feel I've heard the darkest lies.

Although I walk the arid ground—
I feel my steps are idle bound.
I feel my path is guided wrong.
I feel I've walked a journey long.

Although my words are eloquent—
I feel as if thy're never meant.
I feel I've spoken worthlessly.
I feel I've spoken hopelessly.

Although I have a mind to think—
I feel it's short a missing link.
I feel confused and consciously—
I feel as if I shouldn't be.

And though my cries have summoned peace—
I feel my tears shall never cease.
I feel they fuel my scorching hell,
A hell I feel I'll ever dwell.

Jerome L. Jenkins


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