Bedlam (Edit 1)

[71degrees]

I’ve seen a modern house of bedlam, where
Tom’s in front with chipped
Up teeth and soil heavied clothes
are sodden down by scripts.

I had my day of lunacy
Inside and know the way
that wasted men can feel their lives
that slowly slip away.

You cannot cover up a cell
With smiling murals crafted
On the prison walls and paint away
A single plaguing fact

That all these bonny boys are trapped
If you heard the ticking clock
Inside then maybe you could see
What they can feel, a lock.

It’s true that prisons can be gauged
In degrees, but freedom lost
Is freedom lost and where is he
That sets his cage aloft.

So gather up all bedlam boys
And throw away your shame
To join with me for a moment’s whine
And plaintively exclaim!

The language here reminds me a bit of Ken Kesey (the bedlam boys). Anything "Cuckoo's Nest" is okay in my book…the Chief's fascination w/anything metallic or machine operated (such as your own cell, and lock, and cage, and ticking clock, and "gauged" degrees, and "whine" (a double meaning, for sure). The atmosphere of the poem shows me you know the way around such a place. The continuing shift between "I" and "you" bothered me a bit, as did the repetition of "freedom lost" in such short spacing. The cage "aloft" is weird to me, also. Second floor cell arrangement? Also, that same stanza reads like a question to me (question mark at end?).

Liked this. Fun read.