Lunatic Liberties in Broken Syntax

Words tumble, fumble, crumble — free!
Syntax shatters gleefully.
Grammar groans, moans, disowns
The lunacy that now enthrones.

Verbs pirouette with wild nouns,
Adjectives wear adverbial gowns.
Prepositions leap and bound,
Over sense they’ve newly found.

Commas, revolt! Periods, flee!
Exclamations claim sovereignty!
Question marks curl into knots,
Puzzled by their changing lots.

Metaphors melt, similes soar,
Alliteration abandons lore.
Onomatopoeia whispers lies,
While personification dies.

In this maelstrom of mad speech,
New meanings struggle to reach
The surface of our addled minds,
Where reason no longer binds.

Fragments dance a frenzied jig,
Run-ons ramble, growing big.
Dangling modifiers swing with glee,
In this syntactical jubilee.

Yet in this chaos, art emerges,
As broken language surges.
For in the cracks of shattered rules,
Bloom the flowers of verbal jewels.

So let the lunatics run free,
In fields of broken poetry.
For in their liberties, we find
The boundless realms of unbound mind.