Paper Mache Hats

A weird poem that would not get out my head,so I wrote it out. A poem about ideas as hats

-Paper Mache Hats- by Keaton Foster


This head,
Oh, the brain
It contains,
A wondrous world
Between these two ears.

Imagination always aflame,
Burning down a forest
Of stick figures that have
Long since yielded
All expendable fuel.

What a terrifying place
Of epic creatures
And relentless bastards
That force my hands
And my maladjusted mind.

In this head, a
Toxic stew of chemicals,
Woefully out of balance.
Those closest to me
Try to distance themselves;
Those far away are intrigued.

They shout and scream,
"Mystify us with the absurd,
Show us the depths of our kind,"
As long as, when we wish,
We can easily turn away.

To their needs I cater—
I have no choice,
Not one I can see.
It is the will of my mind,
Unyielding, unrefused.

I slave, I ponder,
I wonder, then consider,
Jamming thoughts into a blender
With water and glue,
Darkness and truth.

I set it to the highest speed,
Swirling my thoughts go,
Obliteration about to become
Creation—
A masterful contradiction.

When the motor stops,
When the machine can take no more,
I begin.
Carefully, I craft the slop and slew
Into reality and absolutes.

A physical representation,
An idea ready to be expressed,
In the form of a paper mache hat
I wear as I slave away.

Writing, expressing,
Feeling each emotion,
Laying it all out,
Holding nothing close—
Freedom for an idea.

Once done,
When the words
Are unhinged,
And the meaning I strive to convey
Is expressed,
I remove the paper mache hat.

Never again will I wear
That particular hat.
I place it on a shelf
With hundreds of others,
Certain they will always remain…



-Paper Mache Hats- Written by Keaton Foster
Copyright © 2012