Two authentic mosaics I have made already;
Because my brain has been scrambled like eggs or spaghetti.
I am now a lot less stressed;
Because I'm a lot less depressed.
My brain is not weighed down with piles of junk;
That smell as rotten as a skunk.
For, with poetry, I am my own therapist;
I need to be when I feel like making a fist.
That's why, on Deep Underground, most of my poems are full
of rage;
But, as I release them; I am getting more sage.
My mosaics have been a miracle;
When my mind feels very full;
Of my own inspiration; efore I made my dolphin mosaic;
I could see how it would finish before I even broke the
ceramic.
Sometimes, schizophrenia, I've confused with being psychic;
For, I'm a bit of a flaky chick.
I believe, existing in the universe, is magic;
But, there are also so many occurances which are tragic.
I guess it's all part of one big overwhelming picture;
That's why, to deal with it; I sometimes need liquor!