Complaints of the World Pass Away
The often vaunted and much guarded sickness of a thousand times and places
labels the mad what they are doing and saying, no more, no less.
A world that does not have the kind of mind that madness entertains
is a place misshapen and wasted. The new creation of men and women who say otherwise
is ever blooming with us in this nation’s lost but best hope for a desolation totally wasted and consumed.
Through the life of this world and its people, trusting this new absolute
which waters the flowers that govern the graves of the mad, a new world begins.
– Scott McLay Forbes
I wrote this poem in response to Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl.” I felt that his excellent poem needed something more, someone who has known starvation and hysteria, telling his truth.